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more favour than we could earn; but when the prologue came to touch upon the Major, and told his countrymen in the galleries, that

"His heart can never trip-"

there were certain points of humour, where he thought it likely he might fail, and in this case his failure, like his name, would be more conspicuous than Moody's. In short, Moody would take pains; it might make him, it might mar the other; so Moody had it, and succeeded to our utmost wishes. Mr. King, ever justly a favourite with the public, took the part of Belcour, and Mrs. Abingdon, with some few salvos on the score of condescension, played Charlotte Rusport, Of the subsequent success of this lucky coand though she would not allow it to be any thingmedy there is no occasion for me to speak; eight but a sketch, yet she made a character of it by and twenty successive nights it went without the her inimitable acting.

The production of a new play was in those days an event of much greater attraction than from its frequency it is now become, so that the house was taken to the back rows of the front boxes for several nights in succession before that of its representation; yet in this interval I of fered to give its produce to Garrick for a picture, that hung over his chimney-piece in Southampton-street, and was only a copy from a Holy Family of Andreo del Sarto: he would have closed with me upon the bargain, but that the picture had been a present to him from Lord Baltimore. My expectations did not run very high when I made this offer.

A rumour had gone about, that the character, which gave its title to the comedy, was satirical; || of course the gentlemen, who came under that description, went down to the theatre in great strength, very naturally disposed to chastise the author for his malignity, and their phalanx was not a little formidable. Mrs. Cumberland and I sate with Mr. and Mrs. Garrick in their private box. When the prologue-speaker had gone the length of the four first lines the tumult was exIcessive, and the interruption held so long, that it seemed doubtful, if the prologue would be suffered to proceed. Garrick was much agitated; || he observed to me that the appearance of the house, particularly in the pit, was more hostile than he had ever seen it. It so happened that 1 did not at the moment feel the danger, which he seemel to apprehend, and remarked to him, that the very first word, which discovered Belcour's character to be friendly, would turn the clamour for us, and so far I regarded the impetuosity of the audience as a symptom in our favour. Whilst this was passing between us, order was loudly issued for the prologue to begin again, and in the delivery of a few lines more than they had already heard, they seemed reconciled to wait the developement of a character, from which they were told to expect

"Some emanations of a noble mind." Their acquiescence, however, was not set off with much applause; it was a suspicious truce, a sullen kind of civility, that did not promise

they, honest souls, who had hitherto been treated with little else but stage tricks and cuffs for their entertainment, sent up such a hearty crack, as plainly told us we had not indeed little cherubs, but lusty champions, who sate up aloft.

buttress of an afterpiece, which was not then the practice of attaching to a new play. Such was the good fortune of an author, who happened to strike upon a popular and taking plan, for certainly the moral of the West Indian is not quite unexceptionable, neither is the dialogue above the level of others of the same author, which have been much less favoured.— The snarlers snapped at it, but they never set their teeth in the right place; I don't think I am very vain when I say that I could have taught them better. Garrick was extremely kind, and threw his shield before me more than once, as the St. James's evening paper could have witnessed. My property in the piece was reserved for me with the greatest exactness; the charge of the house upon the author's nights was then only sixty pounds, and when Mr. Evans the Treasurer came to my house in Queen Annstreet, in a hackney coach, with a huge bag of money, he spread it all in gold upon my table, and seemed to contemplate it with a kind of ecstacy, that was extremely droll; and when I tendered him his customary fee, he peremptorily refused it, saying he had never paid an author so much before, I had fairly earnt it, and he would not lessen it a single shilling, not even his coach-hire, and in that humour he departed. He had no sooner left the room than one entered it, who was not quite so scrupulous, but quite as welcome; my beloved wife took twenty guineas from the heap, and instantly bestowed them on the faithful servant who had attended on our children; a tribute justly due to her unwearied diligence and exemplary conduct.

I sold the copy-right to Griffin, in Catherinestreet, for 150l. and if he told the truth, when he boasted of having vended 12,000 copies, he did not make a bad bargain; and if he made a good one, which it is pretty clear he did, it is not quite so clear that he deserved it: he was a sorry fellow.

I paid respectful attention to all the floating criticisms that came within my reach, but I found no opportunities of profiting by their remarks, and very little cause to complain of their personalities; in short I had more praise

than I merited, and less cavilling than I expected. One morning when I called upon Mr. Garrick, found him with the St. James's evening paper in his hand, which he began to read with a voice and action of surprise, most admirably counterfeited, as if he had discovered a mine under my feet, and a train to blow me up to destruction"Here, here," he cried, "if your skin is less thick than a rhinoceros's hide, egad, here is that will cut you to the bone. This is a terrible fellow; I wonder who it can be."-He began to sing out his libel in a high declamatory tone, with a most comic countenance, and pausing at the end of the first sentence, which seemed to favour his contrivance for a little ingenious tormenting, when he found he had hooked me, he laid down the paper, and began to comment on the cruelty of newspapers, and moan over me with a deal of malicious fun and good humour."Confound these fellows, they spare nobody. I dare say this is Bickerstaff again; but you don't mind him; no, no, I see you don't mind him; a little galled, but not much hurt; you may stop his mouth with a golden gag, but we'll see how he goes on."-He then resumed his reading, cheering me all the way as it began to soften, till winding up in the most profest panegyric, of which he was himself the writer, I found my friend had had his joke, and I had enjoyed his praise, seasoned and set off, in his inimitable manner, which to be comprehended must have been seen.

It was the remark of Lord Lyttelton upon this comedy, when speaking of it to me one evening at Mrs. Montagu's, that had it not been for the incident of O'Flaherty's hiding himself behind the screen, when he overhears the lawyer's soliloquy, he should have pronounced it a faultless composition. This flattery his lordship surely added against the conviction of his better judgment, merely as a sweetener to qualify his criticism, and by so doing convinced me that he suspected ine of being less amenable to fair correction than I really am and ever have been. But be this as it may, a criticism from Lord Lyttelton must always be worth recording, and this especially, as it not only applies to my comedy in particular, but is general to all.

"I consider listening," said he, "as a resource never to be allowed in any pure drama, nor ought any good author to make use of it." This position being laid down by authority so high, and audibly delivered, drew the attention of the company assembled for conversation, and all were silent. "It is, in fact," he added, a violation of those rules which original authorities have established for the constitution of the comic drama." After all due acknowledgments for the favour of his remark, I replied that if I had trespassed against

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any rule laid down by classical authority in the case alluded to, I had done it inadvertently, for I really did not know where any such rule was to be found.

"What did Aristotle say?-Were there no rules laid down by him for comedy?" None that I knew; Aristotle referred to the Margites and Ilias Minor as models, but that was no rule, and the models being lost, we had neither precept nor example to instruct us. "Were there any precedents in the Greek or Roman drama, which could justify the measure?"-To this I replied that no precedent could justify the measure in my opinion, which his Lordship's better judgment had condemned; being possessed of that I should offend no more, but as my error was committed when I had no such advice to guide me, I did recollect that Aristophanes did not scruple to resort to listening, and drawing conclusions from what was overheard, when a man rambled and talked broken sentences in his bed asleep and dreaming; and as for the Roman stage, if any thing could apologise for the Major's screen, I conceived there were screens in plenty upon that, which formned separate streets and entrances, which concealed the actors from each other, and gave occasion to a great deal of listening and over-hearing in their comedy.

"But this occurs," said Lord Lyttelton, "from the construction of the scene, not from the contrivance and intent of the character, as in your case; and when such an expedient is resorted to by an officer, like your Major, it is discreditable and unbecoming of him as a man of honour." This was decisive, and I made no longer any struggle. What my predecessors in the drama, who had been dealers in screens, closets and keyholes, for a century past, would have said to this doctrine of the noble critic, I don't pretend to guess it would have made sad havoc with many of them, and cut deep into their property; as for me, I had so weak a cause, and so strong a majority against me, (for every lady in the room denounced listeners,) that all I could do was to insert, without loss of time, a few words of palliation into the Major's part, by making him say, upon resorting to his hiding placeI'll step behind the screen and listen; a good soldier must sometimes fight in ambush as well as in the open field.

I now leave this criticism to the consideration of those ingenious men, who may in future cultivate the stage; I could name one now living, who has made such happy use of his screen in a comedy of the very first merit, that if Aristotle himself had written a whole chapter professedly against screens, and Jerry Collier had edited it with notes and illustrations, I would not have placed Lady Teazle out of ear-shot to have saved E 2

their ears from the pillory: but if either of these worthies could have pointed out an expedient to have Joseph Surface off the stage, pending that scene, with any reasonable conformity to nature, they would have done more good to the drama than either of them have done harm; and that is saying a great deal.

However, before I quite bid farewell to The West Indian, I must mention a criticism, which I picked up in Rotten row, from Nugent, Lord Clare, not ex cathedrù, but from the saddle on an easy trot. His Lordship was contented with the plea in general, but he could not relish the five wives of O'Flaherty; they were four too many for an honest man, and the over-abundance of them hurt his Lordship's feelings; I

convey no fame, and do not elevate him one inch above the keeper of the beasts in the Tower, who puts his pole between the bars, to make the lion roar. In short, it is much better, more justifiable, and infinitely more charitable, to write nonsense, and set it to good music, than to write ribaldry, and impose it on good actors. There never have been any statute-laws for But of this, more fully and explicitly hereafter, comedy; there never can be any it is only re- when committing myself and my works to the ferable to the unwritten law of the heart, and judgment of posterity, I shall take leave of my that is nature; now, though the natural child is contemporaries, and with every parting wish for illegitimate, the natural comedy is, according to their posterity, shall bequeath to them honestly, my conception of it, what in other words we and without reserve, all that my observation and denominate the legitimate comedy. If it repre-long experience can suggest for their edification sents men and women as they are, it pictures and advantage. nature; if it makes monsters, it goes out of nature. It has a right to command the aid of spectacles, as far as spectacles is properly incidental to it, but if it makes its serving maid its mistress, it becomes a puppet show, and its actors ought to speak through a comb behind the scenes, and never shew their foolish faces on the stage. If the author conceive himself at liberty to send his characters on and off the stage exactly as he pleases, and thrusts them into gen-thought I could not have a better criterion for tlemen's houses and private chambers, as if they could walk into them as easily as they can walk through the side scenes, he does not know his business; if he gives you the interior of a man of fashion's family, and does not speak the language, or reflect the manners of a well-bred person, he undertakes to describe company he has never been admitted to, and is an impostor: if he cannot exhibit a distressed gentleman on the scene without a bailiff at his heels to arrest him, nor reform a dissipated lady without a spunginghouse to read his lectures in, I am sorry for his dearth of fancy, and lament his want of taste: if he cannot get his Pegasus past Newgate, without restively stopping like a post horse at the end of his stage, it is a pity he has taught him such unhandsome customs; if he permits the actor, whom he deputes to personate the rake of the day, to copy the dress, air, attitude, straddle and outrageous indecorum of those caricatures in our print-shops, which keep no terms with nature, he courts the galleries at the expence of decency, and degrades himself, his actor, and the stage, to catch those plaudits that

the feelings of other people, and desired Moody to manage the matter as well as he could; he put in the qualifier of en militaire, and his five wives brought him into no further trouble; all but one were left-handed, and he had German practice for his plea. Upon the whole, I must take the world's word for the merit of The West Indian, and thankfully suppose, that what they best liked, was in fact best to be liked.

A little straw will serve to light a great fire, and after the acting of The West Indian, I would say, if the comparison was not too presumptuous, I was almost the Master Betty of the time; but as I dare say that young gentleman is even now too old and too wise to be spoilt by popularity, so was I then not quite boy enough to be tickled by it, and not quite fool enough to confide in it. In short, I took the same course then which he is taking now; as he keeps on acting part after part, so did I persist in writing play after play; and this, if I am not mistaken, is the surest course we either of us could take of running through our period of popularity, and of finding our true level at the conclusion of it.

MRS. BENNETS "VICISSITUDES ABROAD."

The following Extract is from a Nove! published last month, by Mrs. Bennet, the celebrated Authoress of the Beggar Girl, the Welsh Heiress, &c. &c. This Extract forms a part of the History of a Young Lady of great rank and expectations, who has been seduced from her family, and married by an adventurer who assumes the name of St. Herman. Our Readers are introduced into the middle of the story, but it will be found sufficiently intelligible and connected. After relating the circumstances of her marriage, the maledictions of her father, and her own compunctions, she proceeds as follows.

ONE morning, after a week's absence, when I was preparing for my confinement, St. Herman entered my apartment in the utmost disorder, and insisted on my writing to my friends at Paris, to solicit a remittance.

This was a measure I declared the deepest misfortune should not force me to adopt.

while my eyes, though scorched with anguish, were dry.

Necessaries were wanting in my little family. With visible reluctance she asked me for money. My purse was empty.

When my husband's absence had continued several days, the good creature, having expendHe persisted to urge, declaring, without this ed all her own little stock, asked what was to resource, he was undone.

I doubted not his embarrassments; they were concomitant to his avocations; but sparing re

proaches, which I had reasons enough to know would irritate without reforming, I merely hinted at the sentiments of the family.

be done.

I had pondered over misery in almost all

shapes; but actual poverty was so new, so unexpected an evil, that it not only left my mind without resource, but covered me with confusion. I clasped my boy in my arms." Oh, my faHow was I acquainted with them? Had 1 ther!" I cried" is the malediction already falldared to correspond with them clandestinely, as ing on the head of this innocent!"

I had with him?

So cruel a reproach dispensed with all delicacy: I mentioned Julia's letter.

He insisted on seeing it. I repented going so far, and wished to avoid further vexing an angry spirit; but in vain; he would read the letter himself.

When finished, he laid it down before me. He saw nothing to prevent my asking assistance for myself.

I firmly refused; but if indeed his affairs were so very desperate, the jewels

"It is vain to deceive you, Henrietta," said he; they are irretrievably gone; and unless I can raise a sum of money within this month, I must not appear but where only I shall meet better fortune. You may have a return before that period; therefore," putting the inkstand before me, "write!"

The scene that ensued beggars description. As I was not to be moved, my remonstrances provoked invectives. The mask dropped; it was not the anger and disappointment of a gentleman; it was the horrid expletives of a ruffian that assailed me. But that spirit which mighti have been subdued by tenderness, rose superior to brutality. He swore to leave me and my brai|| to starve, and flung out with this menace.

The tears of my son's nurse, whom I had re tained after he was weaned, dropped on his face;

St. Herman at that moment entered. His salutation was polite, but cold. He expressed some concern at my altered looks; and taking his son in his arms, almost smothered him with kisses. A mother cly can conceive what I felt. We neither of us spoke.

He sent for our landlord, and in the insinuating way he well could assume, paid all arrears, with an apology for not doing it sooner; then, laying a pocket-book on the table before me, said it contained sufficient for every thing I could at present want.

He had still the child in his arms. The nurse waited with her eyes fixed on him), fearing, as she afterwards said, all this was a prelude to something very bad.

He soon after gave the child to her, and saying he would request some serious conversation with me after dinner, walked out.

I thought I perceived a smothered sigh; and, affected by his caresses of our child, I endeavoured to be collected against the serious conversa. tion I was bid to expect.

After fortifying himself with more wine than he was in the habit of drinking at home, he asked if I were desirous of knowing his real history, and without waiting a reply, began.

"I am an Irishman by birth; my father is a man of some rank and fortune, to which I should have

been heir; but he has disinherited me, and per- in possession of the large fortune there was little haps he did right."

I gasped for breath. He proceeded.

"I found it necessary to leave my country, and change my name."

"Gracious God! St. Herman then-
"Is not my real name."

My soul was in tumults. "Monster!" I cried in a voice half choked with astonishment and indignation," then I am not a wife, and my child is "

"As you please yourself to consider it," he answered with a still unmoved countenance"You remember we were twice married. You are so much a child of nature yourself, that it would not be easy to make you comprehend how it could be managed without your participation; but this, note down for your own and your son's sake; there are a gister and certificate, that, when necessary, will prove our marriage in my legal name."

Never was astonishment equal to mine; well might he triumph over my childish inexperience. I knew not so much as the church where the ceremony was performed. I now recollected he had on some pretence, kept the blinds of the carriage drawn up, and that we rode a long way; but it was in vain that I implored and adjured him to put it in my own immediate power to prove the legitimacy of his son. He sternly bade me not interrupt him; and while I sat drowned in tears, and suffocated with resentment, proceeded

"I repaired to Paris. There are two ways before a man who enters life-perseverance in what they call virtue, which is troublesome-and plunging into pleasure, which is agreeable. I chose the latter."

"Ah, my poor husband!" I exclaimed. He regarded me not.

"The women spoiled me; and I was fortunate at the gaming-table. The scoundrel Du B. drain ed his sister-in-law for the benefit of a set of us, among whom, in spite of ill fortune, he would assort. My plan was a deeper one than simply to win his money. I challenged a fellow who affronted him, and who I knew would not fight, and he introduced me to the favourite as his relation. I happened to possess agrémens rather more creditable than the Countess had usually found in her husband's family.

"She patronized and procured me a commission in the Guarde du Corps; but I had enemies, whose impertinent whispers threatened to make certain discoveries. I was besides deeply in debt. My good fortune at the gaming-table forsook me; and I was on the point of marrying old Madame Burzet, and her half a million, when I was struck with the project of returning to my own country,

doubt of your inheriting on a petition to the English Government, backed by the interest of my quondam cousin; and this I learned from two Scotch Noblemen, one of whom seemed struck too, who said there was not a doubt but, though your father could not prevail for himself, if his heiress had interest, the estates would be restored to her. My cousin, who I am afraid grew a little tired of her relation, preferred this project to that of old Burzet. She furnished the needful, and here we are."

Every sentiment of tenderness and esteem thus outraged, you will not wonder that I sat petrified. He drank a bumper of wine, and

went on.

"I brought credentials that would have given me, with such claims, any other forfeited estates. in the kingdom; but although it would have been a foolish business to object asking what your father was refused for himself, and would not resign to me, I suspected you would be that fool; it was therefore wise to prevent your exposing yourself. There is a stubborn, selfish fellow, your father's brother, whom the English Minsters like; but my cousin dare not give me upso the estate will be mine, or rather perhaps your's."

"Ah, my dear father!" I exclaimed.

"He deserves nothing from me," said he, with a provoking nonchalance.

"From thee!" cried I with agony.

"Don't be in heroics, child," he continued. "I have very little more to say; I have given you the worst of myself, to save your friends a great deal of trouble. You are a good sort of quiet little body, too good for me; and there may be those who think me a fine handsonie fellow, too good for you. I shall take all the care of you I can, till you have your estate, when, as it is but right, I shall take care of myself. It has been a cursed long while about; but my agent is so sure of success, that instead of asking for money, as usual, from me, he is anxious to be my banker; and as this," laying his hand on the pocket-book, "is partly your own, I heartily wish you joy." 1

It would be in vain, were I to attempt an exact description of St. Herman's manner through the whole of this long torture of my feelings and patience. He proposed remaining with me; but as I peremptorily declined occupying the same apartment, he sent for a coach, and again de parted.

The moment he was gone, my high spirit evaporated. I was seized with successive faintings, and continued several days in the most dangerous state of nervous debility; nor can I to this moment account for that renovated strength that at last restored me to a comparative degree of health.

St. Herman's interest in my heart certainly de

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