into the successive traps laid for him by the women as much from sensuality as avarice.

The bill at Covent Garden on the 2d of June, for Leoni's benefit, operated as an epistle to the Hebrews, and they crowded to assist a singer whom they so justly admired. Among them was to be numbered the aid of Master Braham, who on that night acted, or rather sang, for him in Poor Vulcan. Leoni had little himself as a singer below his falsetto, but that was almost as sweetly toned as the voice of Rubinelli. Its effect resembled the flute part of the organ, with the tremor stop upon it.

Mr. Smith had taken his farewell benefit, but still, as Shakspeare says, "there was some further compliment of leavetaking" between him and the audience. This occurred on the 9th of June, his last performance for the house. His address to the audience should be preserved, if merely for the purpose of ascertaining the variations of which such things are susceptible.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,

"AFTER having devoted five and thirty years to your service, I now beg leave to retire.

"You have received me with candour, indulgence, and generosity. You believe, I hope, your kindness is not lost on me.

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Actors you have had-you will have-with better powers to please you. But this I must be bold to say, none can be found more properly ambitious of your favour-more studious at getting it-more grateful when it was got.

This is the last time I am to appear before you in my public character.-May I hope the patronage and protection you have vouchsafed me on the stage, will be followed by some small esteem when I am off?

"Ladies and Gentlemen--farewell."

There were no tears shed most certainly on either side. To use a happy line, which some way or other Kelly hit upon, when treating of Smith's expression-"there was nothing

"To warm the sterile muscles into soul."

The address itself, too, though perfectly right as to its topics, was much too rigid and pointed in its expression: "You have had-you will have"-" on the stage-and when off."

The taste of Garrick led him to desert the art of composition, and the trim and balance of a sentence, when ac

knowledgment was intended to be affecting. Hear him in the paragraph imitated by Smith.

"I will very readily agree to my successors' having more skill and ability for their station than I have; but I defy them all to take more sincere and more uninterrupted pains for your favour, or to be more truly sensible of it than is your humble servant.”

The acclamations of the audience were mingled with their The imitation here is unquestionable; and it will be as little questioned that he who so altered the language conceived that he improved it. The reader of true taste will, however, decide in favour of the unaffected phraseology of Mr. Garrick.

During the summer recess, Mr. Sheridan the elder died at Margate, at an advanced age. He had intended, if he recovered strength at all, to proceed to Lisbon; but he was soon proved to be past recovery, and died with the satisfaction of leaving a son to carry the reputation of his family higher than either his father, himself. or his wife, all distinguished for their genius, had been able to carry it. Of his acting I cannot speak. His reading, though harsh, was remarkably accurate, and exemplified his theory in emphasis and pronunciation. The greatest compliment that he ever received was the attention of the late minister, Mr. Pitt. That most admirable orator had in his youth adopted the system of Sheridan, and followed him where many others left him. Mr. Pitt pronounced the word negotiation as Mr. Sheridan directs, ne-go-sha-shun. Like most theorists, Mr. Sheridan laid too much stress upon the art which he professed. He might add something of grace or beauty to speech; but the moral efficacy of language is independent of either accent, emphasis, or pronunciation.

After repeated perusal, I am of opinion that his Life of Swift is a composition of great merit; but though it may be feared he rates his virtues somewhat too high, and that, upon the whole, the estimate of Dr. Johnson may be the truer, yet I think he establishes the high consideration in which he was held by the political chieftains in Queen Anne's reign; and in fact proves an ascendancy, which, unaccompanied as it certainly was, by either rank or station, was one of the noblest evidences of mental power, in the history of our species. Bishop Hurd was of opinion, that Addison was a more correct writer than Swift: I think he has himself shown abundant evidence to the contrary. Mr. Sheridan has noted the slips in construction and grammar through his many volumes; but they are not numerous, and of the latter kind, Ff

some were the actual grammar of his day. But he is cer tainly the best model of pure idiomatical English, and his style is strong without epithets, as the athletic are muscular without flesh.

Mr. Sheridan may, I think, be now and then suspected of depreciating his contemporaries to exalt his hero. The days of little men he thought had arrived. Such pigmies, I presume, as Dr. Johnson, Burke, Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon. One must here pity, assuredly, either his blindness or his petulance. Old Mr. Sheridan was the adviser of Mrs. Siddons in the brilliant course of her first town seasons. I have already noticed his kindness as to Mr. Kemble.

I can afford but little space to Colman this summer; but it would be inexcusable to omit all mention of the younger Colman's Ways and Means. The scene is laid in the Ship Inn at Dover, and pleasanter people never were there assembled. Sir David Dunder, acted by the younger Bannister, was a very delightful sketch of a class of beings, who talk incessantly, and about every thing, and are impatient of interruption, which they can only cut down by affecting to know what others are desirous to say. The critics of the time censured the bare allusions in one scene, which they praised in another. The author took his revenge, for what he called malice and misrepresentation,' in his preface, but he might have let the town remain in ignorance that he had enemies; unless they might be presumed to exist from his merits.

"Envy will merit, as its shade pursue;

But, like a shadow, proves the substance true."

The father of Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, notwithstanding the march of time upon him, still retained sufficient force to act for the benefit of his son Stephen's wife. He performed the Miller of Mansfield with very superior effect, and needed nothing of his children's merit to give curreney to his own. The house seemed to gaze upon him with reverence.

Miss Farren, although obliged to borrow the aid of King for the purpose, got up the School for Scandal, at the Summer Theatre, on the night of her benefit. The cast did not fluctuate much. Mrs. Inchbald, however, stumbled upon Lady Sneerwell; and John Bannister did his best in Charles Surface. The Richmonds, Damers, Conways, and so on, showed their admiration by their presence. As to her friends, this delightful actress might very early indeed apply the Derby motto, Sans changer.

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BOOK THE SECOND.

FROM MR. KEMBLE'S BECOMING MANAGER OF DRURY LANE TO HIS RETIREMENT FROM THAT THEATRE.

CHAP. I.

Season of 1788-9.-No arrangements settled at D. L.-Mr. King, his nondescript situation, discontent and flight.-Addresses the public.-The Proprietors conclude with Mr. Kemble.-Short address also from him.-Mr. Sheridan.-Warren Hastings.—Alarming indisposition of the King.Mr. Kemble's views.-How supported.-Acts Lord Townley.-Improvements in Macbeth examined.-The Witches. -Mrs. Crouch censured, perhaps idly.-Mr. Kemble's great display of his art.-His Leon-Sciolto-Mirabel-Romeo -Revives Henry Eighth.-Dr. Johnson.-Siddons.-Takes Cromwell, leaving Wolsey to Mr. Bensley.-Hastings.The Pannel.-Mrs. Jordan.-Zanga.-Produces Coriola

nus.

I AM now arrived at the season of 1788-9, on which, fortunately for the interests of the drama, Mr. Kemble accepted the management of Drury Lane Theatre. During the last season it might have occasionally appeared, even to the audience, that there was a want of steady systematic control. Mr. King was rather uneasy at the impression of actual responsibility, where he enjoyed scarcely more than the shadow of power. He had insisted upon quitting his irksome situation, and had been amused by entreaties, and treaties, to remain with more extensive authority. But as Mr. Sheridan so truly taught us in the Critic, "they are always late at that house;" and they literally opened the season without a manager. As the case was peculiar, it may be worth while, from the statement of Mr. King himself. to leave a standing memorial, how a playhouse should not be ma

naged. I must abridge his most valuable paper, although in all respects worthy of so able a man. It exhibits a curious picture how tenacious men will sometimes be on the subject of power, which they will neither delegate nor exercise. It is true, that occasionally even during the last season, when there were expectations from a new play, in which Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons were to perform, something in the way of decoration and dress was at last wrung from the proprietors, but there was difficulty in bringing them to the decision; and the unfortunate stage-manager, compelled to ask his instructions at every step, stood like a cypher in the place of an unit, and did nothing of his own motion.

Mr. King, on the 30th of September, at more than two hundred miles distance from London, notices the language of the London newspapers on the subject of his retreat from Drury Lane Theatre." One of them allows. that my loss as a performer will be severely felt; but says that neither the public nor proprietors will have cause to regret my absence as a manager. This paragraph I cannot but consider as highly complimentary; for it gives me positive commendation in the line I undertook to fill, and only obliquely censures me for not making the most of a character with which I have never been entrusted."

Mr. King denies that he ever demanded a thousand pounds a year, for seven years, in addition to his usual salary as an actor; and handsomely adds, "I have a pleasure in asserting that the quantum of money has never been an object of dispute." What he complains of, is the undefined nature of his situation, which led him to be called to account by authors for the non-performance of pieces which he never heard of,— to be censured for the non-engagement of actors, with whom he had no power to treat,--and for the paucity of novel entertainment, which it was no part of his province to provide. "Should any one upon hearing this," says Mr. King, "ask me, what was my post at Drury Lane? and if I was not manager, who was?' I should be forced to answer like my friend Atall in the comedy;-to the first, I don't know--and to the last, I can't tell. I can only once more positively assert, that I was not manager; for I had not the power, by any agreement, nor indeed had I the wish, to approve, or reject, any new dramatic work; the liberty of engaging. encouraging, or discharging any one performer,-nor sufficient authority to command the cleaning of a coat, or adding, by way of decoration, a yard of copper lace; both of which, it must be allowed, were often much wanted."

6

According to his own idea, he was retained by the proprie