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diff --git a/26628.txt b/26628.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..21193c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/26628.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6674 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, by +Samuel James Arnold + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor + Vol I, No. 2, February 1810 + +Author: Samuel James Arnold + +Editor: Stephen Cullen Carpenter + +Release Date: September 15, 2008 [EBook #26628] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, DRAMATIC CENSOR *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Nigel Blower, Bill Tozier and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + [Transcriber's Note: + + Typographical errors are listed at the end of the text. + + The printed book contained the six Numbers of Volume I with their + appended plays. The Index originally appeared at the beginning of + the volume; it has been included at the end of the journal text of + Number 1 (Project Gutenberg EBook #22488), before the play. + Pages 109-188 refer to the present Number.] + + + + +THE MIRROR OF TASTE, + +AND + +DRAMATIC CENSOR. + + +Vol. I. FEBRUARY 1810. No. 2. + + + + +HISTORY OF THE STAGE. + +CHAPTER II. + +RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE DRAMA IN GREECE--ORIGIN OF +TRAGEDY--THESPIS--AESCHYLUS, "THE FATHER OF THE TRAGIC ART"--HIS +ASTONISHING TALENTS--HIS DEATH. + + +It has been already remarked that at a very early period, considerably +more than three thousand years ago, the Chinese and other nations in the +east understood the rudiments of the dramatic art. In their crude, +anomalous representations they introduced conjurers, slight of hand men +and rope dancers, with dogs, birds, monkies, snakes and even mice which +were trained to dance, and in their dancing to perform evolutions +descriptive of mathematical and astronomical figures. To this day the +vestiges of those heterogeneous amusements are discernible all over +Indostan: but that which will be regarded by many with surprise, is that +in all countries pagan or christian the drama in its origin, with the +dancings and spectacles attending it have been intermixed with divine +worship. The Bramins danced before their god Vishnou, and still hold it +as an article of faith that Vishnou had himself, "in the olden time" +danced on the head of a huge serpent whose tail encompassed the world. +That very dance which we call a minuet, has been proved by an ingenious +Frenchman, to be the same dance originally performed by the priests in +the temple of Apollo, and constructed by them, to be symbolical of the +zodiac; every figure described by the heavenly bodies having a +correspondent movement in the minuet: the diagonal line and the two +parallels representing the zodiac generally, the twelve steps of which +it is composed, representing the twelve signs, and the twelve months of +the year, and the bow at the beginning and the end of it a profound +obedience to the sun. About the year four hundred after the building of +the city of Rome, the Romans, then smarting under great public calamity, +in order to appease the anger of heaven, instituted theatrical +performances, as feasts in honour of their gods. The first Spanish plays +were founded, sometimes on the loves of shepherds, but much more +frequently on points of theology, such as the birth of Christ, the +passion, the temptation in the desert and the martyrdom of saints. The +most celebrated dramatic poet of Portugal, Balthazar, wrote dramas which +he called AUTOS chiefly on pious subjects--and the prelate Trissino, the +pope's nuncio, wrote the first regular tragedy, while cardinal Bibiena +is said to be the author of the first comedy known in Italy, after the +barbarous ages. The French stage began with the representation of +MYSTRIES, by the priests, who acted sacred history on a stage, and +personated divine characters. The first they performed was the history +of the death of our Saviour, from which circumstance the company who +acted, gave themselves the name of THE CONFRATERNITY OF THE PASSION: and +in England one single paper which remains on record, proves that the +clergy were the first dramatists. This paper is a petition of the clerks +or clergy of St. Paul's to king Richard the Second, and dated in 1378 +which prayed his majesty to prohibit a company of _unexpert_ people from +representing the history of the Old Testament, to the great prejudice of +the said clergy, who had been at great charge and expense to represent +the same at christmas. + +It would be little to the purpose, to dwell longer on that part of the +history of the drama, which lies back in the darkness of remote +antiquity. Having shown that it did exist, in some shape or other, of +which but very imperfect traces remain, and of course very inadequate +notions can be collected, all further inquiry backward would be but the +loss of so much time and trouble. The scope of human knowledge is +extended at too heavy a price when the industry which might be more +usefully applied, is exercised in hunting down origins into the +obscurity of times so extremely distant. Where the greatest pains have +been lavished on that sort of research, little knowledge has been +gained; and the most diligent inquirers have been compelled either to +confess that they were baffled, or rather than own their disappointment, +to substitute fable for fact, and pass the fictions of imagination for +historical truths. + +It is in the records of Greece the dramatic art first presents itself in +the consistent shape and with the circumstantial detail of authentic +history. There, plays were first moulded into regular form, and divided +into acts. Yet the people of that country knew so little of its having +previously existed in any shape, in any other country, that the +different states contested with each other, the honour of having +invented it; each asserting its claim with a warmth that demonstrates +the high sense they entertained of its importance: and surely what such +a people highly valued is entitled to the respect of all other nations. +Of the drama, therefore, it might perhaps be enough to say that it was +nursed in the same cradle with Eloquence, Philosophy, and Freedom, and +that it was so favourite a child of their common parents, that they +contended, each for an exclusive right to it. The credit of having first +given simplicity, rational form, and consequent interest to theatrical +representations has, by the universal concurrence of the learned, been +awarded to Attica, whose genius and munificence erected to the drama +that vast monument the temple of Bacchus, the ruins of which are yet +discernible and admired by all travellers of taste and erudition. + +The origin of tragedy is a subject of curious contemplation. A rich +planter of Attica, finding, one day, a goat devouring his grapes, killed +it, and invited the peasantry to come and feast upon it. He gave them +abundance of wine to drink, intoxicated with which they daubed their +faces with the lees, ornamented their heads with chaplets made of the +vine branches, and then danced, singing songs in chorus to Bacchus all +the while round the animal destined for their banquet. A feast so very +agreeable was not likely to go unrepeated; and it was soon reduced to a +custom which was pretty generally observed in Attica, during the +vintage. On those occasions the peasants, absolved from all reserve by +intoxication, gave a loose to their animosities against the opulent, and +in token of defiance of their supposed oppressors, went in bodies to +their houses, and in set terms of abuse and sarcasm, called aloud for +redress of their grievances. The novelty of the exhibition drew a +multitude round them who enjoyed it as a new species of entertainment. +Far from preventing it, the magistrates authorized the proceeding in +order that it might serve as an admonition to the rich; taking special +care, however, that no positive violence should be resorted to, and thus +making it a wholesome preventive of public disorder. To this yearly +festival which was called "the feast of the goat" the people of all +parts were invited; and as this extraordinary spectacle was performed in +a field near the temple of Bacchus, it was gradually introduced into the +worship of that god. Hymns to the deity were sung both by priests and +people in chorus while the goat was sacrificing, and to these hymns the +name was given of _Tragodia_ (tragedy) or "the song of the goat." + +During these exhibitions the vintagers, intoxicated with wine and joy, +revenged themselves not only on the rich by publishing and satirizing +their injustice, but on each other with ridicule and sarcasm. In their +other religious festivals also, choruses of fauns and bacchants chaunted +songs and held up individuals to public ridicule. From such an humble +germe has sprung up an art which in all parts of the world has, for +centuries, administered to the advancement of poetry and elegant +literature, and to the delight and improvement of mankind. + +To these performances succeeded pieces composed by men of poetical +talents, in some of which the adventures of the gods were celebrated and +in others the vices and absurdities of individuals were attacked with +much asperity. The works of all those poets probably died with them; nor +is there any reason to believe that the loss of them is to be +regretted--they are mentioned here only because they form a link in the +chain of this history. By them, such as they were, however, the +influence of the drama was established so far that it was soon found +necessary to regulate it by law; the players who entered into +competition at the Pythian games being enjoined to represent +successively the circumstances that had preceded, accompanied and +followed the victory of Apollo over Python. Some years after this, came +Susarion of Megara, the first inventor of comedy who appeared at the +head of a company of actors attacking the vices of his time. This was +562 years before Christ, and in twenty-six years after, that is 536 +before Christ, appeared Thespis. + +THESPIS has the credit of being the first inventor of regular tragedy. +Disgusted with the nonsensical trash exhibited on the subject of +Bacchus, and indignant, or pretending to be so, at the insult offered by +such representations to that deity, he wrote pieces of a new kind, in +which he introduced recitation, leaving Bacchus entirely out, lashing +the vices and follies of the times, and making use, for the first time, +of fiction. Though his representations were very rustic and imperfect +they still make the first great era in the history of the tragic art: +and they must be allowed to have made no slight impression upon the +public mind, when it is remembered that they called forth the opposition +of SOLON, the great lawgiver of Athens; who, on seeing the +representations of Thespis, sternly observed, that if falsehood and +fiction were tolerated on the stage they would soon find their way into +every part of the republic. To this Thespis answered, that the fiction +could not be harmful which every one knew to be fiction; that being +avowed and understood, it lost its vicious character, and that if +Solon's argument were true, the works of Homer deserved to be burned. +Solon, however, exercised his authority upon the occasion, and +interdicted Thespis not only from writing but from teaching the art of +composing tragedies at Athens. Whether Thespis was supported by the +people in contradiction to Solon, or whether he contrived to follow his +business in some other part of Attica, out of the jurisdiction of that +great man, is not known; but he certainly disregarded the interdict, and +not only wrote tragedies, but instructed others in their composition. +For Phrynicus, the tragic poet of Athens, (the first who introduced a +female character on the stage) was his disciple. + +In less than half a century after Thespis had, by his ingenuity, so +improved the dramatic art as to form an era in its history, arose the +illustrious personage, whose further improvements and astonishing +poetical talents justly obtained for him the high distinction of "The +Father of Tragedy." AEschylus, in common with all the natives of Attica, +was bred to arms. The same genius which, applied to poetry, placed him +at the head of tragic writers, raised him in the field to a high rank +among the greatest captains of antiquity. At the celebrated battles of +Marathon, Salamis and Plataea he distinguished himself in a manner that +would have rendered his name forever illustrious as a warrior, if the +splendor of his martial fame were not lost in the blaze of his poetical +glories. Descended from some of the highest Athenian blood, he was early +placed under Pythagoras to learn philosophy, and at the age of +twenty-one was a candidate for the prize in poetry. Thus illustrious as +a philosopher, a warrior and a poet, it is no wonder that he was held in +the highest respect and consideration by his countrymen. He wrote +sixty-six, or, as some say, ninety tragedies, forty of which were +rewarded with the public prize. Of all these, seven only have escaped +the ravages of time, and descended to us perfect. + +Thespis, who had gone before him, still left the Grecian stage in a +state of great rudeness and imperfection, and, what was worse, in a +condition of low buffoonery. Before Thespis tragedy consisted of no more +than one person, who sung songs in honour of Bacchus. Thespis introduced +a second performer; such was the state of the Grecian stage when +AEschylus arose, and made an illustrious epoch in the history of the +drama. Before him the chorus was the principal part of the performance; +but he reduced it to the state of an assistant, which was introduced +between the acts to heighten the effect by recitation or singing, and by +explaining the subject in its progression. He introduced another actor, +which made his dramatis personae three. He divided his pieces into acts, +and laid the foundation of those principles of dramatic poesy upon which +Aristotle afterwards built his rules. Thespis and his successors before +AEschylus, acted from a cart in the streets: neither his actors nor +himself were distinguished by any more than their ordinary dress. +AEschylus built a theatre, embellished it with appropriate scenery, +machinery, and decorations, and clothed his actors with dresses suitable +to their several characters. This would have been effecting much if he +had done nothing more; but to the theatre which he erected, he added +plays worthy of being represented with the splendor of such +preparations. Abandoning the monstrous extravagancies and uncouth +buffoonery of his predecessors, he took Homer for his guide, and +composed pieces which for boldness and terrible sublimity have never +been surpassed. His fiery imagination, when once on the wing, soared +beyond the reach of earth, and seemed to spurn probability, and to +delight in gigantic images and tremendous prodigies. No poet ever had +such talents for inspiring terror. When his tragedy of EUMENIDES was +represented, many children died through fear, and several pregnant women +actually miscarried in the house, and it is related of him that nothing +could surpass the terrible ferocity of his countenance while, under the +inspiration of his sublime Muse, he composed his tragedies. + +The mind of this very extraordinary man was comprehensive, energetic, +vigorous, and fiery: of him may with equal truth be said what doctor +Johnson has said of our Shakspeare: + + Existence saw him spurn her wide domain. + +For his imagination, daring, wild, and disorderly, resorted to the +agency of preternatural beings, and in one of his plays called up the +dead, with a degree of skill which Shakspeare only has surpassed, and +none but Shakspeare could at all equal. He selected his subjects from +the highest regions of sublimity, and his morals, always excellent, are +enforced by the most dreadful examples of divine vengeance. To sum up +his character in a few words--Longinus, the prince of Critias, says of +him that he had a noble boldness of expression, with an imagination +lofty and heroic, and his claim to the sublime has never been contested. +At the same time it must be owned that his style is, at least to modern +readers, obscure, and that his works are considered the most difficult +of all the Greek classics. The improvements he made in the drama seemed +to his cotemporaries to bespeak an intelligence more than human; +wherefore, to account for his wonderous works, they had recourse to +fable, and related that the god Bacchus revealed himself to him +personally, as he lay asleep under the shade of a vine, commanded him to +write tragedy, and inspired him with the means. This story is very +gravely told by the historian Pausanias. + +There is little doubt that AEschylus felt a gratification in putting down +the monstrous rhapsodies to Bacchus and the other deities, with which +the idolatrous priests of that day blindfolded and deceived the people; +his plays having frequent cuts upon the gross superstition which then +darkened the heathen world. For some expressions which were deemed +impious he was condemned to die. Indeed christian scholars particularly +mark a passage in one of his tragedies in which he palpably predicts, +the downfall of Jupiter's authority, as if he had foreseen the +dispersion of heathenism. The multitude were accordingly going to stone +him to death when they were won over to mercy by the remonstrances and +intreaties of his brother Amynias who had commanded a squadron of ships +at the glorious battle of Salamis, and was regarded as one of the +principal saviours of his country. This brave man reminded the people +what they owed to his brother AEschylus for his valour at Marathon and at +Plataea, and then of what they owed himself for his conduct at Salamis, +in which bloody but glorious battle he had been chiefly supported by +that brother whom they were now ungratefully going to put to +death:--having said this, he threw aside his cloak and exposing his arm +from which the hand had been cut off, "Behold," he cried--"behold this, +and let it speak for my brother and myself!" The multitude relented, and +were all at once clamorous in their applause and benediction of the two +brothers. The highminded AEschylus however was so incensed at the +ingratitude of the mob and the slight they put upon him, that he retired +into Sicily where he lost his life by a most singular accident. Having +wandered into the fields, an eagle which had mounted into the air with a +tortoise, for the purpose of dropping it upon a rock in order to break +the shell, mistaking the bald head of AEschylus for a stone, let the +animal fall upon it, and killed him on the spot. The Athenians gave him +the honour of a pompous public funeral with orations, and all that could +denote their respect for the hero, the philosopher, the poet, and the +father of the tragic art--and succeeding tragedians made it a ceremony +to perform plays at his tomb. + +To complete the glories of this wonderful man, the ruins of the theatre +he planned and erected, furnished the Romans with the model, upon which +they afterwards raised those magnificent edifices which still are the +objects of admiration and delight with the world, and of imitation with +the scientific professors of architecture. + + + + +BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MRS. WARREN. + + +Mrs. Ann Warren, whose name has, for some years, stood so high in +theatrical annals, was the daughter of Mr. John Brunton, who as an actor +and a manager, maintained a respectable rank in Great Britain, while he +remained upon the stage; and all his life has been considered a man of +great worth, and an estimable gentleman. Having received a good +classical education under the tuition of the reverend Mr. Wilton, +prebendary of Bristol, Mr. Brunton was bound apprentice to a wholesale +grocer in Norwich, and when his time was out, married a Miss Friend, the +daughter of a respectable merchant of that city, soon after which he +went to London, and entered into business, as a tea-dealer and grocer in +Drury-Lane. Here he became acquainted with Mr. Joseph Younger, who was +at the time prompter at Covent Garden theatre, and though no actor +himself, knew stage business as well as any man in England. Mr. Younger, +discerning in Mr. Brunton good talents for an actor, advised him to try +the experiment, and gave him such strong assurances of success, that he +agreed to make the attempt and actually made his first appearance in the +character of Cyrus for his friendly adviser's benefit, sometime in the +year 1774. His reception in this character was so very encouraging that +he again came forward before the end of the season, and played the +character of Hamlet for the benefit of Mr. Kniveton. So completely did +the event justify Mr. Younger's opinion, and evince his discernment that +Mr. Brunton soon found it his interest to abandon commerce, and take +entirely to the stage. At this time his eldest daughter, the subject of +the present memoir, was little more than five years of age. Having +settled his affairs in London, and sold off his stock in trade, Mr. +Brunton returned to the city of Norwich in which he got an engagement, +and met all the encouragement, he could hope for, being considered the +best actor that had ever appeared on that stage. From this he was +invited to Bath and Bristol, where he continued to perform for five +years, and at the end of that time returned to the Norwich theatre of +which he became manager. Mr. B.'s family had now become very numerous; +he had six children,--a charge which in England would be thought to lean +too heavy upon a very large estate--and yet with nothing more than the +income which he derived from his professional industry, did this +exemplary father tenderly rear and genteelly educate that family. + +From the circumstances of her father's situation, and from her early +accomplishments and success as an actress, it will be imagined by many, +that Miss Brunton was early initiated in stage business; that she had +seen every play acted, and had studied and imitated the many great +models of her time, the Barrys, the Bellamys, the Yeates, and the +Siddonses; that under a father so well qualified to instruct her, her +talents were brought forth in the very bud, by constant exercise, and +that while yet a child she had learned to personate the heroine. What +then will the reader's surprise be, when he is informed that she had +seen very few plays; perhaps fewer than the general run of citizens' +daughters--and that the stage was never even for an instant contemplated +as a profession for her till a very short time before her actual +appearance in public. The fact is, that Mr. Brunton's conduct through +life was distinguished no less by prudence and discretion, than by a +lofty regard to the honourable estimation of his family. While he +himself drudged upon the stage and faced the public eye, his family, +more dear to him, lived in the repose of retired life, and instead of +fluttering round the scenes of gayety and dissipation, or haunting the +theatre before or behind the curtain, Mrs. Brunton trained her children +to domestic habits, and contented herself with qualifying her daughters +to be like herself, good wives and mothers. Not in the city but in the +country near Bath did Mr. Brunton live in an elegant cottage, where his +little world inhaled the pure air of heaven, and grew up in +innocence--Mrs. Brunton herself being their preceptress. Nothing was +farther from his thoughts than that any of his daughters possessed +requisites for the stage; they were all very young, even the eldest, our +heroine, had but turned past fifteen, and, exclusive of her youth, had +a lowness of stature and an exility of person, than which nothing could +be farther from suggesting ideas of the heroine, or of tragic +importance, when one day, by desire of her mother, she recited some +select passages in her father's presence. He listened with mixed +emotions of astonishment and delight--a new train of thought shot across +his mind; he put her over and over again to the trial, and at every +repetition had additional motives to admire and to rejoice. Then, for +the first time, was he aware of the mine which lay concealed in his +family under modesty and reserve, and then, for the first time, he +resolved that she should try her fate upon the stage, his fond heart +prognosticating that _his_ darling would, ere long, be the darling of +the people. That she should possess such an affluence of endowment, +without letting it earlier burst upon her father's sight, is evidence of +a share of modesty and diffidence as rare as lovely, and well worthy +imitation, if under the present _regime_ the imitation of such virtues +were practicable. + +As this circumstance exhibits our heroine's private character in a most +exalted and amiable view, so it demonstrates the native powers of her +genius. Let it only be considered!--while she yet fell, by two months, +short of sixteen years of age, or in other words while she had yet +scarcely advanced a step from the date of childhood, without any +previous stage practice, without the advantage of studying, in the +performances of other actresses, what to do, or what to avoid, she comes +forward, for the first time, in one of the most arduous characters in +tragedy, and at one flight mounts to the first rank in her profession. +It is a circumstance unexampled in the records of the stage, and would +be incredible if not too universally known to be doubted. + +Mr. Brunton immediately on discovering the treasure he possessed, +resolved to bring it forth to public view. The time was nearly at hand +when he was to take his benefit, and he judiciously thought that there +could not be a more happy way of introducing her with advantage than in +the pious office of aiding him on that occasion--nor can the most lively +imagination, conceive an object more interesting than a creature so +young, so lovely, and so much wiser than her years standing forward to +encounter the hazards and the terrors of that most trying situation in +cheerful obedience to a father's will, and for a father's benefit. The +selection of the character of Euphrasia for her, while he played the +aged father, Evander, who is supposed to be sustained by the nourishment +given from his daughter's bosom, was judicious, as it formed a +coincidence of fact and fiction, which if it had been only moderately +supported by her performance, could scarcely fail to excite in every +bosom, in the house, the most lively and interesting sensations. Nothing +that paternal affection, and good sense could dictate were wanting on +the part of Mr. Brunton. Of the short time he had for instructing her, +no part was lost. The appearance of Mr. Brunton's daughter in Euphrasia, +with a prologue written for the occasion, was announced, and +notwithstanding there were not wanting wretches mean and miserable +enough to trumpet abroad her youth and smallness of stature, as +insurmountable obstacles to her personating the Grecian daughter, more +just ideas of her, or perhaps curiosity brought a full house. Mr. +Brunton himself spoke the prologue, which was written for him by the +ingenious Mr. Meyler, and was as follows: + + Sweet Hope! for whom his anxious parent burns, + Lo! from his tour the travelled heir returns, + With each accomplishment that Europe knows, + With all that Learning on her son bestows; + With Roman wit and Grecian wisdom fraught, + His mind has every letter'd art been taught. + Now the fond father thinks his son of age, + To take an active part in life's vast stage; + And Britain's senate opes a ready door, + To fill the seat his sire had fill'd before, + There when some question of great moment springs, + He'll rise--then "hear him, hear him," loudly rings, + He speaks--th' enraptur'd list'ning through admire + His voice, his argument, his genius' fire! + The fond old man, in pure ecstatic joy, + Blesses the gods that gave him such a boy! + But if insipid Dulness guide his tongue, + With what sharp pangs his aged heart is wrung-- + Despair, and shame, and sorrow make him rue + The hour he brought him to the public view. + And now what fears! what doubt, what joys I feel! + When my first hope attempts her first appeal, + Attempts an arduous task--Euphrasia's wo-- + Her parent's nurse--or deals the deadly blow! + Some sparks of genius--if I right presage, + You'll find in this young novice of the stage: + Else had not I for all this earth affords + Led her thus early on these dangerous boards. + If your applause gives sanction to my aim, + And this night's effort promise future fame, + She shall proceed--but if some bar you find, + And that my fondness made my judgment blind, + Discern no voice, no feeling she possess, + Nor fire that can the passions well express; + Then, then forever, shall she quit this scene, + Be the plain housewife, not the tragic queen. + +Such an appeal, delivered with all the powers of an excellent speaker, +and enforced by the genuine and unfeigned feelings of a father's heart, +told home--peals of applause gave assurance that her entrance was +strewed with flowers, and that at least, her reception, would correspond +with his fondest wishes. + +The accounts that have been given by spectators of the events of that +night are extremely interesting. Many, no doubt, went there with a +prepossession, raised by the unfavourable reports of her personal +appearance; and if lofty stature were indispensibly necessary to a +heroine, no external appearance could be much less calculated to +personify a Thalestris than Miss Brunton's--but the mighty mind soon +made itself to be felt, and every idea of personal dimensions vanished. +"The audience (says a British author) expected to see a mawkin, but saw +a Cibber--the applause was proportionate to the surprise: every mouth +emitted her praise, and she performed several parts in Bath and Bristol, +a phenomenon in the theatrical hemisphere." Though the trepidation +inseparable from such an effort diminished her powers at first, the +sweetness of her voice struck every ear like a charm: the applause that +followed invigorated her spirits so far that in the reciprocation of a +speech or two more, her fine clear articulation struck the audience with +surprise, and when, more assured by their loud approbation, she came to +the speech: + + "Melanthon, how I loved, the gods who saw + Each secret image that my fancy formed, + The gods can witness how I loved my Phocion, + And yet I went not with him. Could I do it? + Could I desert my father?--Could I leave + The venerable man, who gave me being, + A victim here in Syracuse, nor stay + To watch his fate, to visit his affliction, + To cheer his prison hours, and with the tear + Of filial virtue bid each bondage smile." + +she seemed to pour forth her whole heart and soul in the words, and +emitted such a blaze as filled the house with rapture and astonishment. +In a word, no actress at the highest acme of popularity ever received +greater applause. Next day her performance was the topic of every circle +in Bath. Horatia in the Roman Father, and Palmyra in Mahomet, augmented +her reputation, and in less than a month the fame of this prodigy, for +such she appeared to be, had reached every town and city of Great +Britain and Ireland. + +It was natural to imagine that such extraordinary powers would not be +long suffered to waste themselves upon the limited society of country +towns. Mr. Harris, as soon as he received intelligence on which he could +depend, upon the subject of Miss Brunton's talents, resolved to be +himself an eye-witness of her performance, and set off to Bath with a +view, if his judgment should concur with that of the public of that +city, to offer her an engagement at Covent Garden. To see her was to +decide; he resolved to have her if possible, and lost no time to make +such overtures at once as could not well be refused. These included an +engagement at a very handsome salary for her father; her own of course +was liberal--when one considers how long Mrs. Siddons had appeared upon +the stage before she got a firm footing on the London boards, one cannot +but be astonished at the rise of this lady at one leap from the +threshold to the top of her profession. It is worthy of observation that +the real children of nature generally burst at once upon the view in +excellence approaching to perfection; while the mere artists of the +stage lag behind, labouring for years, before they attain the summit of +their ambition; when their consummate art and their skill in concealing +that art (ars celare artem) if they have it, entitles them at last to +the highest praise. Mrs. Bellamy was one of those children of nature. +Before she appeared, Quin decidedly gave judgment against her: yet the +first night she performed he was so struck with her excellence, that, +impatient to wipe away his injustice by a candid confession he +emphatically exclaimed, "My child, the spirit is in thee." Garrick it is +said never surpassed his first night's performance: and the Othello of +Barry's first appearance, and the Zanga of Mossop's never were equalled +by any other actors, nor were ever surpassed even by themselves. + +Such was the impression made by this phenomenon, even before she left +the country for London, that the presses teemed with tributes to her +extraordinary merit, in verse and prose. Learning poured forth it praise +in deep and erudite criticism--Poetry lavished its sparkling encomium in +sonnets, songs, odes, and congratulatory addresses, while the light +retainers to literature filled the magazines and daily prints with +anecdotes, paragraphs, bon-mots, and epigrams. In a word, there was for +sometime no reading a newspaper, or opening a periodical publication +without seeing some production or other addressed to Miss Brunton. From +the number which appeared the following is deservedly selected, for the +elegance of its Latin and the beauty of its thoughts: + + +AD BRUNTONAM. + +E GRANTA EXITURAM. + + Nostri praesidium et decus thartri; + O tu, Melpomene severioris + Certe filia! quam decere formae + Donavit Cytherea; quam Minerva + Duxit per dubiae vias juventae, + Per plausus populi periculosus;-- + Nec lapsam--precor, O nec in futuram + Lapsuram. Satis at Cam[oe]na dignis + Quae te commemoret modis? Acerbos + Seu praeferre Monimiae dolores, + Frater cum vetitos (nefas!) ruebat + In fratris thalamos, parumque casto + Vexabat pede; sive Julietae + Luctantes odio paterno amores + Maris: te sequuntur Horror, + Arrectusque comas Pavor. Vicissim + In fletum populus jubetur ire, + Et suspiria personant theatrum. + + Mox divinior enitescis, altrix + Altoris vigil et parens parentis. + At non Graecia sola vindicavit + Paternae columen decusque vitae + Natam; restat item patri Britanno + Et par Euphrasiae puella, quamque + Ad scenam pietas tulit paternam. + + O Bruntona, cito exitura virgo, + Et visu cito subtrahenda nostro, + Breves deliciae, dolorque longus! + Gressum siste parumper oro; teque + Virtutesque tuas lyra sonandas + Tradit Granta suis vicissim almunis. + +The following very elegant poem, published as a version of this ode, is +rather a paraphrase than a translation. What Gibbon said of Pope's Homer +may with some truth be applied to it: "_It has every merit but that of +resemblance to the original._" Might not a version equally elegant, but +adhering more closely to the original, and preserving more of its +peculiar genius be found in America. We wish some of our readers who +feel the inspiration of a happy Muse would make the experiment. + + Maid of unboastful charms, whom white-rob'd Truth, + Right onward guiding through the maze of youth, + Forbade the Circe, PRAISE, to witch thy soul, + And dash'd to earth th' intoxicating bowl; + Thee, meek-eyed Pity, eloquently fair, + Clasp'd to her bosom, with a mother's care; + And, as she lov'd thy kindred form to trace, + The slow smile wander'd o'er her pallid face, + For never yet did mortal voice impart + Tones more congenial to the sadden'd heart; + Whether to rouse the sympathetic glow, + Thou pourest lone Monimia's tale of wo; + Or happy clothest, with funereal vest, + The bridal loves that wept in Juliet's breast. + O'er our chill limbs the thrilling terrors creep, + Th' entranc'd passions still their vigils keep; + Whilst the deep sighs, responsive to the song, + Sound through the silence of the trembling throng. + But purer raptures lighten'd from thy face, + And spread o'er all thy form a holier grace; + When from the daughter's breast the father drew + The life he gave, and mix'd the big tear's dew. + Nor was it thine th' heroic strain to roll, + With mimic feelings, foreign from the soul; + Bright in thy parent's eye we mark'd the tear; + Methought he said, "Thou art no actress here! + A semblance of thyself, the Grecian dame, + And _Brunton_ and _Euphrasia_ still the same!" + O! soon to seek the city's busier scene, + Pause thee awhile, thou chaste-eyed maid serene, + Till Granta's sons, from all her sacred bow'rs, + With grateful hand shall weave Pierian flow'rs, + To twine a fragrant chaplet round thy brow, + Enchanting ministress of virtuous wo! + +It was on the 17th of October, 1785, that Miss Brunton made her first +appearance at Covent Garden theatre in the character of Horatia. The +public had anxiously looked for her, and the house was crowded to +receive her. The venerable Arthur Murphy wrote a prologue for the +occasion, in which he displayed his accustomed delicacy and judgment. It +was as follows, and was well spoken by Mr. Holman: + + The tragic Muse long saw the British stage + Melt with her tears, and kindle with her rage, + She saw her scenes with varied passions glow, + The tyrant's downfall and the lover's wo; + 'Twas then her Garrick--at that well-known name + Remembrance wakes, and gives him all his fame; + To him great Nature open'd Shakspeare's store, + "Here learn," she said, "here learn the sacred lore;" + This fancy realiz'd, the bard shall see, + And his best commentator breathe in thee. + She spoke: her magic powers the actor tried; + Then Hamlet moraliz'd and Richard died; + The dagger gleam'd before the murderer's eye, + And for old Lear each bosom heav'd sigh; + Then Romeo drew the sympathetic tear, + With him and Cibber Love lay bleeding here. + Enchanting Cibber! from that warbling throat + No more pale Sorrow pours the liquid note. + Her voice suppress'd, and Garrick's genius fled, + Melpomene declined her drooping head; + She mourn'd their loss, then fled to western skies, + And saw at Bath another genius rise. + Old Drury's scene the goddess bade her choose, + The actress heard, and spake, "herself a muse." + From the same nursery, this night appears + Another warbler, yet of tender years; + As a young bird, as yet unus'd to fly + On wings, expanded, through the azure sky, + With doubt and fear its first excursion tries + And shivers ev'ry feather with surprise; + So comes our chorister--the summer's ray, + Around her nest, call'd forth a short essay; + Now trembling on the brink, with fear she sees + This unknown clime, nor dares to trust the breeze. + But here, no unfledg'd wing was ever crush'd; + Be each rude blast within its cavern hush'd. + Soft swelling gales may waft her on her way, + Till, eagle-like, she eyes the fount of day: + She then may dauntless soar, her tuneful voice + May please each ear and bid the grove rejoice. + +It would be superfluous, and indeed only going over the same ground +already beat at Bath, to describe Miss Brunton's reception on her first +appearance in London. Suffice it to say that plaudits and even +exclamations of delight were, if possible, more rapturous and more +incessant at Covent Garden than at Bath. Of the reputation thus quickly +acquired, she never, to the day of her death, lost an atom; but +continued to perform, in different parts of England, with accumulating +fame, till her marriage deprived the people of England of her talents. + +Mr. Robert Merry, a gentleman well known in the literary world, and +rendered conspicuous by some pretty poetry published under the name of +_Della Crusca_, had the honour of rendering himself so agreeable to Miss +Brunton that she suffered him to lead her to the altar. He was of a +gentleman's family, and received his education under that mass of +learning, doctor Parr, was a man of brilliant genius, amiable +disposition, elegant manners, with a fine face and person. Being a _bon +vivant_ and a little addicted to play, as well as to other fashionable +and wasteful frivolities of high life, his affairs were in a very +unpleasant state, but for this there was an abundant remedy in his +wife's talents; and perhaps (with her aid) a little in his own too. +Family pride, however, forbid it. He was much swayed by his relatives, +particularly by two old maiden aunts, who were, or affected to be +wounded at his marrying an actress. Nothing but his withdrawing his wife +from the stage could assuage their wrath or heal the wound, and Mrs. +Merry, in a spirit of obedience to her husband, and of amiable feeling +for his situation, which will ever do honour to her memory, complied; +and as soon as her engagement at Covent Garden expired (in 1792) left +the stage, to the great regret, and a little to the indignant contempt +for the old ladies, of the whole British nation. + +Mr. and Mrs. Merry soon after paid a visit to the continent, where they +lived for a little more than a year, when they returned to England, and +settled in retired life in the country and there remained till the year +1796, when they removed to America. Mr. Brunton, the father of Mrs. +Merry, was, no less than the old ladies alluded to, and on much more +substantial grounds, averse to her marriage with Mr. Merry, and still +more to her coming to America. In obedience to a higher duty, however, +she followed the fortunes of her husband, and with the most poignant +regret left her native country and her father, to sojourn in a strange +land. On the 19th of September, 1796, they sailed from the Downs, and on +the 19th of October following landed at New-York. + +Few country theatres in Great Britain have been able to boast of so good +a company as that which assembled at Philadelphia on the season which +succeeded Mrs. Merry's arrival. The theatre opened on the fifth of +December, with Romeo and Juliet, and the Waterman. The elegant and +interesting Morton played Romeo--Mrs. Merry Juliet; all the characters +had excellent representatives, and Mrs. Merry appeared to the audience a +being of a superior kind. That winter she played all her best parts, but +though supported by such a company it often happened that the receipts +were insufficient to pay the charges of the house, and the season was, +on the whole, extremely unsuccessful; a circumstance which at first view +will excite surprise, but at the time might reasonably have been +expected. This will be understood when the general financial condition +of the city is called to recollection. Every one who has known the +country but for a few years back must remember the almost general +bankruptcy occasioned by the failure of land speculating men of opulence +and high credit. During that time commerce in all its classes sensibly +felt the shock, and business languished in all its branches. No wonder +that the theatre, which can only be fed by the superflux of all other +departments of society, should droop, neglected and unsupported. The +prices then too were higher than now--the boxes a dollar and a +quarter--the pit a dollar. And here we cannot help expressing a wish, +founded we believe on justice and common sense, that admittance to the +pit were raised:--first, because it is, at least, equal if not +preferable to the boxes; and next because it would in some degree tend +to exclude many who, though fit to sit only in the upper gallery, make +their way into the pit to the great annoyance of those decent well +behaved people who go to enjoy and understand the play, and not to +blackguard and speak aloud. + +When the theatre was closed, according to civil regulation, the company, +went to New-York. At that time Hallam and Hodgkinson had possession of +both the theatres of that city--the old one in John-street, and the new +one at the Park. The Philadelphia company, still bleeding from the +wounds of the unsuccessful season, and urged by necessity for future +support, applied to Hallam and Hodgkinson to rent them the theatre in +John-street. Guided by a policy, rational enough and perhaps justifiable +on principles of self-defence, though certain not very liberal, and in +the end greatly injurious to themselves, the York proprietors +peremptorily refused. The circus of Ricketts, the equestrian, in +Greenwich-street then presented itself, and the Philadelphia company +opened in full force. In order to oppose them, Hallam and Hodgkinson +invited Mr. Sollee with his company to John-street. The Philadelphia +company, however, made a very successful campaign of it. Sollee also had +his visitors, and the consequence to H. and H. was that when they came +to open the new house they played to thin or rather empty boxes; the +town being saturated with theatrical exhibitions, and a little exhausted +too of the cash disposable for such recreations. + +In New-York as well as Philadelphia, and indeed in every place where +Mrs. M. went, she was no sooner seen than admired; and the impression +she never failed to make at first sight remained, not only uneffaced but +more deeply augmented in proportion as she was seen, even to the end of +her life. She afterwards visited Baltimore and other places, and +wherever she went, was the polar star to which the attention of all was +directed. + +While she was proceeding in this career of success her felicity met with +the most cruel interruption by the sudden death of her husband, which +happened at Baltimore in the latter end of the year 1798. Mr. Merry had +not laboured under any specific physical complaint from which his death +could in the smallest degree be apprehended. On the day before christmas +he was apparently well, had walked out into the garden, and was soon +after followed by some friends who found him lying senseless on the +ground. Medical aid was immediately called in--several attempts were +made to draw blood from him but without the least success; the +physicians pronounced it an apoplectic case, and from every circumstance +the conclusion was that his death was instantaneous and without pain. +Mr. Merry was large and of a plethoric habit; and to that his death may, +in some sort, and was then entirely ascribed. But circumstances appeared +after his death which led to a conclusion that concealed sorrow, might +have had some share in it. From refined motives of tenderness for a +beloved wife's feelings, and that loftiness of spirit which clings to +the perfect gentleman, he concealed the state of his affairs in England, +which had for some time been in a rapid decline, and of the complete +ruin of which he had a short time before been fully informed. His +patrimonial estate had been foreclosed and sold under a mortgage, and he +remained debtor for a considerable sum after the sale. To this effect a +letter was found after his death. As soon as this was discovered, every +one who knew his exquisite sensibility, reflected with astonishment upon +the delicacy which dictated and the fortitude with which he managed his +concealment, and felt deep and sympathetic sorrow for the anguish he +must have been privately enduring while he endeavoured to dress his face +with tranquillity and to converse with his accustomed cheerfulness and +ease. Smothered grief is one of the most deadly inmates; and it is +reasonable to believe that a paroxysm of violent emotion in a moment +when solitude gave an opportunity for giving a loose to reflection, +operating upon a plethoric habit, occasioned his sudden dissolution. + +That Mr. Merry was a gentleman of great private worth we believe the +evidence of all those to whom familiar intercourse had revealed his +disposition; that he was learned and accomplished in a very eminent +degree no one has ever denied; and that he was a man of genius, his +"Della Crusca," and the many witty and satirical epigrams he wrote for +the public prints under the signature of "Tom Thorne," abundantly prove. +But the pen of state vengeance was raised against him, and his poetical +fame was immolated as an expiation for his political offences. Attached +to French revolutionary, or, as they were then called, jacobin +principles, to a degree which even Foxites censured, he was viewed with +abhorrence by one party, and with no great regard by the other; so that +when the witty author of the Pursuits of Literature drew his sword, and +the sarcastic author of the Baviad and Maeviad lifted his axe against him +there was no one to ward off the blows. There is a fact respecting Mr. +M. which, though it does not properly belong to this biographical +sketch, yet as it is curious enough to apologize for its introduction, +we take the liberty to relate. The celebrated Mrs. Cowley, under the +name of "Anna Matilda," and Mr. M. under that of "Della Crusca," +corresponded with and admired each other, without being known or even +suspected by one another, or, for some time, by the public. These +productions formed a new era or rather a new school of poetry, which +excited such attention and curiosity that every art was resorted to in +order to discover the authors. It was at length whispered abroad, and +then what most surprised the world was, that the two persons were +totally strangers to each other. + +Mrs. Merry remained a widow for more than four years: she then, on the +first of January 1803, married Mr. Wignell, the manager of the +Philadelphia theatre, who died in seven weeks after their marriage. For +three years and a half she retained the name of Wignell, when the +present manager solicited her hand so successfully that she consented, +and took the name of Warren, on the 15th of August, 1806. By this +marriage the property and management of the Philadelphia theatre +devolved upon Mr. Warren; than whom, exclusive of the personal +attachment that subsisted between them, she could not have pitched upon +any one person more competent to the care of her property or the +direction of the theatre; or one more worthy of the sacred trust of +being a parent and a guardian to her infant daughter. For near two years +they lived together in a state of ease and felicity which bid fair to +last for years, when he being obliged to attend his company to their +customary summer stations, Mrs. Warren, then in a far advanced state of +pregnancy, desired to go along with him. Aware of the fatigue, the +inconveniences, and the privations to which she would, in all +likelihood, be exposed, during her journey southward, and still more in +her _accouchement_, which must necessarily take place before his return, +he endeavoured to prevail upon her to stay behind. But "Fate came into +the list," and she would go. Arrived at Alexandria, he took a large +commodious house, and put it in a condition sufficiently comfortable; +Mrs. Warren was in lusty health, and as the time approached all was fair +and promising. By one of those turns, however, which it pleases +Providence for his own wise purposes frequently to ordain, to mock our +best hopes and baffle our most sanguine expectations, this admirable +woman was, contrary to every antecedent prognostic, visited in her +travail with epileptic fits, in which she expired, "leaving," (as the +sublime Burke no less truly than pathetically said on the death of +doctor Johnson,) "not only nothing to fill her place, but nothing that +has a tendency to fill it." + +Here, we let the curtain drop. Neither her private nor her public +character can derive additional lustre from any pen. + + + + +PORTRAIT OF THE CELEBRATED BETTERTON. + + +Mr. Thomas Betterton, dramatist and actor, was born in Tothill-street, +Westminster; and after having left school, is said to have been put +apprentice to a bookseller. It is supposed he made his first appearance +on the stage about the year 1657, at the opera house, which was then +under the direction of sir William Davenant. He went over to Paris to +take a view of the French scenery, and on his return, made such +improvements, as added greatly to the lustre of the English stage. + +The professional merits of this great man were of a kind so perfectly +unequivocal and unalloyed that there never was heard one dissenting +voice upon the subject of his superiority to all other actors. He stood +so far above the highest of his profession that competition being +hopeless there was no motive for envy. + +Of the few who lived to see him and Garrick, the far greater number gave +him the palm, with the exception of Garrick's excellence in low comedy. +Indeed he seems to have combined in himself the various powers of the +three greatest modern actors, of Garrick, except as before excepted, of +Barry, and of Mossop; add to which, he played Falstaff as well as Quin. +The present writer got this from old Macklin, who was stored with +anecdotes of his predecessors. + +Of Betterton, Colley Cibber speaks thus, in his apology for his own +life: + +"Betterton was an actor, as Shakspeare was an author, both without +competitors! formed for the mutual assistance, and illustration of each +other's genius! how Shakspeare wrote, all men who have a taste for +nature may read, and know--but with what higher rapture would he still +be read, could they conceive how Betterton _played_ him! Then might they +know, the one was born alone to speak what the other only knew to write! +pity it is, that the momentary beauties flowing from a harmonious +elocution, cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record! that the +animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath +and motion that presents them; or at best can but faintly glimmer +through the memory, or imperfect attestation of a few surviving +spectators. Could _how_ Betterton spoke be as easily known as _what_ he +spoke, then might you see the Muse of Shakspeare in her triumph, with +all her beauties in their best array, rising into real life, and +charming her beholders. But alas! since all this is so far out of the +reach of description, how shall I show you Betterton? Should I therefore +tell you, that all the Othellos, Hamlets, Hotspurs, Mackbeths, and +Brutuses, whom you may have seen since his time, have fallen far short +of him; this still would give you no idea of his particular excellence. +Let us see then what a particular comparison may do! whether that may +yet draw him nearer to you? + +"You have seen a Hamlet perhaps, who, on the first appearance of his +father's spirit, has thrown himself into all the straining vociferation +requisite to express rage and fury, and the house has thundered with +applause; though the misguided actor was all the while (as Shakspeare +terms it) tearing a passion into rags--I am the more bold to offer you +this particular instance, because the late Mr. Addison, while I sate by +him, to see this scene acted, made the same observation, asking me with +some surprize, if I thought Hamlet should be in so violent a passion +with the ghost, which though it might have astonished, it had not +provoked him? for you may observe that in this beautiful speech, the +passion never rises beyond an almost breathless astonishment, or an +impatience, limited by filial reverence, to inquire into the suspected +wrongs that may have raised him from his peaceful tomb! and a desire to +know what a spirit so seemingly distressed, might wish or enjoin a +sorrowful son to execute towards his future quiet in the grave! this was +the light into which Betterton threw this scene; which he opened with a +pause of mute amazement! then rising slowly, to a solemn, trembling +voice, he made the ghost equally terrible to the spectator, as to +himself! and in the descriptive part of the natural emotions which the +ghastly vision gave him, the boldness of his expostulation was still +governed by decency, manly, but not braving; his voice never rising into +that seeming outrage, or wild defiance of what he naturally revered. But +alas! to preserve this medium, between mouthing, and meaning too little, +to keep the attention more pleasingly awake, by a tempered spirit, than +by mere vehemence of voice, is of all the master-strokes of an actor the +most difficult to reach. In this none yet have equalled Betterton. But I +am unwilling to show his superiority only by recounting the errors of +those, who now cannot answer to them, let their farther failings +therefore be forgotten! or rather, shall I in some measure excuse them! +For I am not yet sure, that they might not be as much owing to the false +judgment of the spectator, as the actor. While the million are so apt to +be transported, when the drum of their ear is so roundly rattled; while +they take the life of elocution to lie in the strength of the lungs, it +is no wonder the actor, whose end is applause, should be also tempted, +at this easy rate, to excite it. Shall I go a little farther? and allow +that this extreme is more pardonable than its opposite error? I mean +that dangerous affectation of the monotone, or solemn sameness of +pronunciation, which to my ear is insupportable; for of all faults that +so frequently pass upon the vulgar, that of flatness will have the +fewest admirers. That this is an error of ancient standing seems evident +by what Hamlet says, in his instructions to the players, _viz._ + + Be not too tame, neither, &c. + +The actor, doubtless, is as strongly tied down to the rules of Horace as +the writer: + + Si vis me flere, dolendum est + Primum ipsi tibi---- + +He that feels not himself the passion he would raise, will talk to a +sleeping audience: but this never was the fault of Betterton; and it has +often amazed me to see those who soon came after him, throw out in some +parts of a character, a just and graceful spirit, which Betterton +himself could not but have applauded. And yet in the equally shining +passages of the same character, have heavily dragged the sentiment along +like a dead weight; with a long-toned voice, and absent eye, as if they +had fairly forgot what they were about. If you have never made this +observation, I am contented you should not know where to apply it. + +"A farther excellence in Betterton, was, that he could vary his spirit +to the different characters he acted. Those wild impatient starts, that +fierce and flashing fire, which he threw into Hotspur, never came from +the unruffled temper of his _Brutus_ (for I have more than once, seen a +_Brutus_ as warm as Hotspur) when the Betterton Brutus was provoked, in +his dispute with Cassius, his spirit flew only to his eye; his steady +look alone supplyed that terror, which he disdained an intemperance in +his voice should rise to. Thus, with a settled dignity of contempt, like +an unheeding rock, he repelled upon himself the foam of Cassius. Perhaps +the very works of Shakspeare will better let you into my meaning: + + Must I give way, and room, to your rash choler? + Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? + +And a little after, + + There is no terror, Cassius, in your looks! &c. + +Not but in some part of this scene, where he reproaches _Cassius_, his +temper is not under this suppression, but opens into that warmth which +becomes a man of virtue; yet this is that _hasty spark_ of anger, which +Brutus himself endeavours to excuse. + +"But with whatever strength of nature we see the poet show, at once, the +philosopher and the hero, yet the image of the actor's excellence will +be still imperfect to you, unless language could put colours in our +words to paint the voice with. + +"_Et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum_, is enjoining an +impossibility. The most that a _Vandyke_ can arrive at, is to make his +portraits of great persons seem to _think_; a Shakspeare goes farther +yet, and tells you _what_ his pictures thought; a Betterton steps beyond +them both, and calls them from the grave, to breathe, and be themselves +again, in feature, speech, and motion. When the skilful actor shows you +all these powers at once united, and gratifies at once your eye, your +ear, your understanding. To conceive the pleasure rising from such +harmony, you must have been present at it! 'tis not to be told you! + +"There cannot be a stronger proof of the charms of harmonious elocution, +than the many, even unnatural scenes and flights of the false sublime it +has lifted into applause. In what raptures have I seen an audience, at +the furious fustian and turgid rants in _Nat. Lee's Alexander the +Great_! for though I can allow this play a few great beauties, yet it is +not without its extravagant blemishes. Every play of the same author has +more or less of them. Let me give you a sample from this. Alexander, in +a full crowd of courtiers, without being occasionally called or provoked +to it, falls into this rhapsody of vainglory: + + Can none remember? Yes, I know all must! + +And therefore they shall know it again. + + When Glory, like a dazzling eagle, stood + Perched on my beaver, in the Granic flood, + When Fortune's self, my standard trembling bore, + And the pale Fates stood frighted on the shore, + When the immortals on the billows rode, + And I myself appeared the leading god. + +When these flowing numbers come from the mouth of a Betterton, the +multitude no more desired sense to them, than our musical connoisseurs +think it essential in the celebrated airs of an Italian opera. Does not +this prove, that there is very near as much enchantment in the +well-governed voice of an actor, as in the sweet pipe of a eunuch? If I +tell you, there was no one tragedy, for many years, more in favour with +the town than Alexander, to what must we impute this its command of +public admiration? not to its intrinsic merit, surely, if it swarms with +passages like this I have shown you! If this passage has merit, let us +see what figure it would make upon canvas, what sort of picture would +rise from it. If Le Brun, who was famous for painting the battles of +this hero, had seen this lofty description, what one image could he have +possibly taken from it? In what colours would he have shown us _Glory +perched upon a beaver_? how would he have drawn _Fortune trembling_? or, +indeed, what use could he have made of _pale Fates_, or _immortals_ +riding upon _billows_, with this blustering _god_ of his own making at +the _head_ of them! where, then, must have lain the charm, that once +made the public so partial to this tragedy? why plainly, in the grace +and harmony of the actor's utterance. For the actor himself is not +accountable for the false poetry of his author; that, the hearer is to +judge of; if it passes upon him, the actor can have no quarrel to it; +who, if the periods given him are round, smooth, spirited, and +high-sounding, even in a false passion, must throw out the same fire and +grace, as may be required in one justly rising from nature; where those +his excellencies will then be only more pleasing in proportion to the +taste of his hearer. And I am of opinion, that to the extraordinary +success of this very play, we may impute the corruption of so many +actors, and tragic writers, as were immediately mislead by it. The +unskilful actor, who imagined all the merit of delivering those blazing +rants, lay only in the strength, and strained exertion of the voice, +began to tear his lungs, upon every false, or slight occasion, to arrive +at the same applause. And it is hence I date our having seen the same +reason prevalent, for above fifty years. Thus equally misguided too, +many a barren-brained author has streamed into a frothy flowing style, +pompously rolling into sounding periods, signifying--roundly nothing; of +which number, in some of my former labours, I am something more than +suspicious, that I may myself have made one, but to keep a little closer +to Betterton. + +"When this favourite play I am speaking of, from its being too +frequently acted, was worn out, and came to be deserted by the town, +upon the sudden death of Monfort, who had played Alexander with success, +for several years, the part was given to Betterton, which, under this +great disadvantage of the satiety it had given, he immediately revived +with so new a lustre, that for three days together it filled the house; +and had his then declining strength been equal to the fatigue the action +gave him, it probably might have doubled its success; an uncommon +instance of the power and intrinsic merit of an actor. This I mention +not only to prove what irresistible pleasure may arise from a judicious +elocution, with scarce sense to assist it; but to show you too, that +though Betterton never wanted fire, and force, when his character +demanded it; yet, where it was not demanded, he never prostituted his +power to the low ambition of a false applause. And further, that when, +from a too advanced age, he resigned that toilsome part of Alexander, +the play, for many years after never was able to impose upon the public; +and I look upon his so particularly supporting the false fire and +extravagancies of that character, to be a more surprizing proof of his +skill, than his being eminent in those of Shakspeare; because there, +truth and nature coming to his assistance he had not the same +difficulties to combat, and consequently, we must be less amazed at his +success, where we are more able to account for it. + +(_To be continued._) + + + + +DRAMATIC CENSOR. + + + I have always considered those combinations which are formed in the + playhouse as acts of fraud or cruelty: He that applauds him who + does not deserve praise, is endeavouring to deceive the public; He + that hisses in malice or in sport is an oppressor and a robber. + + _Dr. Johnson's Idler, No. 25._ + + +PHILADELPHIA THEATRE. + +_Dec. 6th._--Douglas, _with the_ Shipwreck. Young Norval } + _8th._--Mountaineers--Raising the Wind. Octavian } + _9th._--Lover's Vows--Rosina. Frederick } + _11th._--Mahomet--Spoiled Child. Zaphna } _BY_ + _13th._--Hamlet--Weathercock. Hamlet } + _15th._--Pizarro--The Ghost. Rolla } _MASTER_ + _16th._--Douglas--Youth, Love and Folly. Young Norval } + _18th._--Tancred and Sigismunda--Farmer. Tancred } _PAYNE._ + _20th._--Barbarossa--Too Many Cooks. Selim } + _22d._--Romeo and Juliet--Love laughs at } + Locksmiths, for his own benefit. Romeo } + +All those plays are well known. From the peculiar circumstances +attending their performance they call for a share of particular +attention, which would otherwise be superfluous. Where there is +something new, and much to be admired, it would be inexcusable to be +niggard of our labour, even were the labour painful, which in this +instance it is not. The performance of Master Payne pleased us so much +that we have often since derived great enjoyment from the recollection +of it; and to retrace upon paper the opinions with which it impressed +us, we now sit down with feelings very different from those, which, at +one time, we expected to accompany the task. Without the least +hesitation we confess, that when we were assured it would become our +duty to examine that young gentleman's pretensions, and compare his +sterling value with the general estimate of it, as reported from other +parts of the union, we felt greatly perplexed. On one hand strict +critical justice with the pledge which is given in our motto, +imperiously forbidding us to applaud him who does not deserve it, stared +us in the face with a peremptory inhibition from sacrificing truth to +ceremony, or prostrating our judgment before the feet of public +prejudice: while, on the other we were aware that nothing is so +obstinate as error--that fashionable idolatry is of all things the most +incorrigible by argument, and the least susceptible of conviction--that +while the dog-star of favouritism is vertical over a people, there is +no reasoning with them to effect; and that all the efforts of common +sense are but given to the wind, if employed to undeceive them, till the +brain fever has spent itself, and the public mind has settled down to a +state of rest. We had heard Master Payne's performances spoken of in a +style which quite overset our faith. Not one with whom we conversed +about him spoke within the bounds of reason: few indeed seemed to +understand the subject, or, if they did, to view it with the sober eye +of plain common rationality. The opinions of some carried their own +condemnation in their obvious extravagance; and hyperbolical admiration +fairly ran itself out of breath in speaking of the wonders of this +cisatlantic young Roscius. + +While we knew that half of what was said was utterly impossible, we +thought it due to candor to believe that such a general opinion could +not exist without some little foundation; that in all likelihood the boy +had merit, considerable for his years and means, to which his puerility +might have given a peculiar recommendation, and that when he came to be +unloaded by time and public reflection of that injurious burthen of +idolatrous praise, which to our thinking had all the bad effects of +calumny, we should be able to find at bottom something that could be +applauded without impairing our veracity, deceiving the public, or +joining the multitude in burning the vile incense of flattery under the +boy's nose, and hiding him from the world and from himself in a cloud of +pernicious adulation. + +But how to encounter this reigning humour was the question: to render +his reasoning efficacious, the critic must take care not to make it +unpalatable. And here the general taste seemed to be in direct +opposition to our reason and experience; for we had not yet (even in the +case of young Betty, with the aggregate authority of England, Ireland, +and Scotland in his favour) been free from scepticism: the Roscio-mania +contagion had not yet infected us quite so much: in a word, we had no +faith in MIRACLES, nor could we, in either the one case or the other, +screw up our credulity to any sort of unison with the pitch of the +multitude. We shall not readily forget the mixed sensations of concern +and risibility with which, day after day, from the first annunciation of +Master Payne's expected appearance at Philadelphia, we were obliged to +listen to the misjudging applause of his panegyrists. There is a +narrowness of heart, and a nudity of mind too common in our nature, +under the impulse of which few people can bring themselves to do homage +to one person without magnifying their incense by the depreciation of +some other. According to these a favourite has not his proper station, +till all others are put below him; as if there was no merit positive, +but all was good but by comparison. In this temper there certainly is at +least as much malice to one as kindness to the other: but an honourable +and beneficent wisdom gives other laws for human direction, and dictates +that in the house of merit there are not only many stories, but many +apartments in each story: and that every man may be fairly adjudicated +all the praise he deserves without thrusting others down into the ground +floor to make room for him. Yet not one in twenty could we find to +praise Master Payne, without doing it at the expense of others. "He is +superior to Cooper," said one; "he speaks better than Fennell," said a +second: these sagacious observations too, are rarely accompanied by a +modest qualification, such as "I think," or "it is my opinion"--but +nailed down with a peremptory IS. This is the mere naked offspring of a +muddy or unfinished mind, which, for want of discrimination to point +out the particular beauties it affects to admire, accomplishes its will +by a sweeping wholesale term of comparison, more injurious to him they +praise than to him they slight. Nay, so far has this been carried, that +some who never were out of the limits of this union have, by a kind of +telescopical discernment, viewed Cooke and Kemble in comparison with +their new favourite, and found them quite deficient. We cannot readily +forget one circumstance: a person said to another in our hearing at the +playhouse, "You have been in England, sir, don't you think Master Payne +superior to young Betty?" "I don't know, sir, having never seen Master +Betty," answered the man; "I think he is very much superior," replied +the former--"You have seen Master Betty then, sir," said the latter; +"No, I never did," returned he that asked the first question, "but I am +sure of it--I have heard a person that was in England say so!!"--This +was the pure effusion of a mind subdued to prostration by wonder. In +England this was carried to such lengths, that the panegyrists of young +Betty seemed to vie with each other in fanatical admiration of that +truly extraordinary boy. One, in a public print, went so far as to +assert, that Mr. Fox (who, as well as Mr. Pitt, was at young Betty's +benefit when he played Hamlet) declared the performance was little, if +at all, inferior to that of his deceased friend Garrick. With the very +same breath in which we read the paragraph we declared it to be a +falsehood. Mr. Fox had too much judgment to institute the +comparison--Mr. Fox had too much benignity to utter such a malicious +libel upon that noble boy. + +These considerations naturally augmented our anxiety, and we did most +heartily wish, if it were possible, to be relieved from the task of +giving an opinion of Master Payne. For in addition to his youthfulness, +we knew that he wanted many advantages which young Betty possessed. The +infant Roscius of England, had, from his very infancy, been in a state +of the best discipline; being from the time he was five years of age, +daily exercised in recitation of poetry, by his mother, who shone in +private theatricals; and having been afterwards prepared for the stage, +and hourly tutored by Mr. Hough, an excellent preceptor. By his father +too, who is one of the best fencers in Europe, he was improved in +gracefulness of attitude--and nature had uncommonly endowed him for the +reception of those instructions. Of such means of improvement Master +Payne was wholly destitute, for there was not a man that we could hear +of in America who was at once capable and willing to instruct him. +Self-dependent and self-taught as he must be, we could see no feasible +means by which he could evolve his powers, be they what they might, to +adequate effect for the stage. We deemed it scarcely possible that he +could have got rid of the innumerable provincialisms which must cling to +his youth: and we laid our account at the best with meeting a fine +forward boy who would speak, perhaps not very well either, by rote; and +taking the most prominent favourite actor of his day, as a model, be a +mere childish imitator. We considered that when young people do any +thing with an excellence disproportioned to their years, they are viewed +through a magnifying medium; and that being once seen to approach to the +perfection of eminent adults, they are, by a transition sufficiently +easy to a wondering mind, readily concluded to excel them. Thus Betty +was said to surpass Kemble and Cooke; and thus young Payne was roundly +asserted to surpass Cooper and Fennell. Such were the feelings and +opinions with which we met Master Payne on his first appearance, for +which the tragedy of Douglas was judiciously selected; and we own that +the first impression he made upon our minds was favourable to his +talents in this way: He appeared to be just of that age which we should +think least advantageous to him; too young to enforce approbation by +robust manly exertion of talents; too far advanced to win over the +judgment by tenderness; or by a manifest disproportion between his age +and his efforts, to excite that astonishment which, however shortlived, +is, while it lasts, despotic over the understanding. Labouring, +therefore, under most of the disadvantages without any of the +advantages of puerility, candor and common sense pronounced at once that +much less of the estimation in which he was held, was to be ascribed to +his boyishness, and of course much more to his talents than we had been +led to imagine. If, therefore, he got through the character handsomely, +and still carried the usual applause along with him, we directly +conceived that there would be just ground for thinking it not entirely +the result of prejudice, nor by any means undeserved. + +At his entrance he seemed a little intimidated, as if he were dubious of +his reception; nor could he for some minutes devest himself of that +feeling, though he was received with the most flattering welcome;--this +transient perturbation gave a very pleasing effect to his first words; +and when he said, "My name is Norval," he uttered it with a pause which +seemed to be the effect of the modest diffidence natural to such a +character upon being introduced into a higher presence than he had ever +before approached. Had this been the effect of art it would have been +fine--perhaps it was--but we thought it was accidental. + +The utter impossibility of a beardless boy of sixteen or seventeen +years, at all assimilating to the character of a warrior and mighty +slayer of men, is of itself an insuperable obstacle to the complete +_personification_ of certain characters by a young gentleman of the age +and stature of Master Payne. He might speak them with strict +propriety--he might act them with feeling and spirit; but had he the +general genius of Garrick--the energies of Mossop--the beauty of Barry, +the elocution of Sheridan, and the art of Kemble, he could not with the +feminine face and voice, and the unfinished person inseparable from such +tender years, _personate_ them: nor so long as he is seen or heard can +the perception of his nonage be excluded, or he be thought to represent +that character, to the formation of which, not gristle, nor fair, round +soft lineaments, but huge bone and muscle, well-knit joints, knotty +limbs, and the hard face of Mars are necessary. If we find, as we do in +many great works of criticism, objections made to the performance of +several characters by actors of high renown merely for their deficiency +in personal appearance--if the externals of Mr. Garrick are stated by +his warmest panegyrists as unfitting him for characters of dignity or +heroism, even to his exclusion from Faulconbridge, Hotspur, &c. and if +we find that the greatest admirers of Barry considered the harmony and +softness of his features, as reducing his Macbeth, Pierre, &c. to poor +lukewarm efforts, how can it be expected that a boy, just started from +childhood, should present a true picture of a warrior or a philosopher? +We premise this for the purpose of having it understood that what we are +to say of Master Payne is to be subject to these deductions, and that in +the praise which it is but just to bestow upon him, we exclude all idea +of external resemblance to the characters. Of the mental powers, the +informing spirit, the genius, the feeling which he now discloses, and +the rich promise they afford of future greatness--of these it is, we +profess to speak: further we cannot go without insincerity, untruth, and +manifest absurdity. + +As might have been expected from Master Payne's limited means of stage +instruction, he several times discovered want of judgment. In the speech +in which Norval tells his story, he trespassed on propriety in his +efforts to throw an air of martial ardor into his expressions; by +suddenly changing the key and raising the tone of his voice, and +speaking with increased rapidity the words that more immediately related +to fighting, erecting them into a kind of _alto relievo_ above the level +of the rest; particularly in "I had heard of battles," &c. "We fought +and conquered," &c. all which is a narrative that should be delivered +with humility, and a strict avoidance of any thing like vainglory, or +egotism, studiously softening down, with modest air, those details of +his own prowess which the author has _necessarily_ given to the +character. + +Had Master Payne had a Hough to instruct him, or a Cooke for his model, +he would have escaped the error into which he fell in that part of the +fourth act in which Norval describes the hermit who instructed him: he +would have known that acting what he narrates is highly improper--indeed +absurd; as it is acting in the first person, and speaking in the third +at one and the same time. While he repeated the words + + ----Cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts, + Described the motions, and explain'd the use + Of the deep column, and the lengthened line, + The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm, + +Master Payne cut those figures, and described the square and the +crescent with his hands--a great error! A better lesson cannot be +offered to a young actor on this subject than may be found in the novel +of Peregrine Pickle, in which doctor Smollet ridicules Quin the player +for acting narrative in Zanga. + +Master Payne would find it his interest to avoid as much as may be, long +declamatory speeches, till his organs are enlarged and confirmed. But in +those parts in which Douglas discloses his lofty spirit, and no less in +all the pathetic parts, he far exceeded expectation, and deserved all +the applause he received. + + Oh, tell me who and where's my mother! + Oppressed by a base world, perhaps she bends + Beneath the weight of other ills than grief, + And, desolate, implores of Heaven the aid + Her son should give---- + Oh, tell me her condition. + +There was, in his delivering these lines, an expression of tenderness +which appealed forcibly to the heart; and was rendered still more +striking by the abrupt transition to his sword, + + Can the sword---- + Who shall resist me in a parent's cause? + +which he executed with a felicity that nothing but consummate genius +could accomplish. Again he blazed out with _the true spirit_ in the +following lines: + + The blood of Douglas will protect itself. + Then let yon false Glenalvon beware of me. + +That part, however, in which he disclosed not only exquisite feeling but +a soundness of judgment that would do honour to an experienced actor, +was where Glenalvon taunts him, for the purpose of rousing his spirit to +resentment. In that speech particularly which begins, + + Sir, I have been accustomed all my days + To hear and speak the plain and simple truth. + +The suppression of his indignation in this and the succeeding +passages--the climax of passion marked in his face, his tone and his +action, when he says to himself + + If this were told!---- + +the gradation thence to + + Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self? + +till at last he flames into ungovernable rage in + + Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour, + And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword, + I'd tell thee--what thou art--I know thee well. + +was altogether a string of beauties such as it rarely falls to the lot +of the critic to commemorate. Had age and personal hardihood been added, +it would have defied the cavils of the most churlish criticism, and +deprived even enmity of all pretence to censure. + +The next striking beauty he disclosed was in his reply to Randolph, when +the latter offers his arbitration between him and Glenalvon. + + Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much, + My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment. + +The cold peremptory dignity he threw into these words was beautifully +conceived, and executed in a masterly manner: nor was he less successful +in the transition to an expression of poignant but smothered sensibility +in the next line: + + I blush to speak: I will not, cannot speak + Th' opprobrious words that I from him have borne. + +His delivery of this and all the other lines of the speech that followed +it, deserved the thunders of applause with which it was greeted--it was, +indeed, admirable. + +In impassioned feeling lies Master Payne's strength. Hence his last +scene was deeply affecting. Though we could well have spared that +KEMBLEIAN dying trope, his rising up and falling again. It is because we +seriously respect Master Payne's talents that we make this remark: +clap-traps and stage trick of every kind cannot be too studiously +avoided by persons of real parts. + +It would be injustice to omit one passage-- + + Just as my arm had mastered Randolph's sword + The villain came behind me----BUT I SLEW HIM. + +In the break, the pause, and the last four words he was inimitably fine. + +In Master Payne's performance of this character we perceived many +faults, which call for his own correction. They are, we think, such as +he has it in his power to get rid of. As they are general and pervade +all his performances, we reserve our observations upon them till we +close the course of criticism we are to bestow upon him, when we mean to +sum up our opinion of his general talents. Meantime we beg leave to +remind him that Mr. Garrick himself, after he had been near forty years +upon the stage, often shut himself up for days together restudying and +rehearsing parts he had acted with applause a hundred times before. _Sat +sapienti._ + +Nature has bestowed upon this young gentleman a countenance of no common +order. Its expression has not yet unfolded itself; but we entertain no +doubt that when manhood and diligent professional exercise shall have +brought the muscles of his face into full relief, and strengthened its +lines, it will be powerfully capable of all the inflexions necessary for +a general player. At present the character of his physiognomy is +perfectly discernible only upon a near view. When he advances towards +the front of the stage, the lines may be perceived from that part of the +pit and boxes which are near the orchestra; even then the shades are so +very much softened by youth, and the parts so rounded, and so utterly +free from acute angles, that they can, as yet, but faintly express +strong, turbulent emotions, or display the furious passions. In a boy of +his age, this, so far from being a defect, is a beauty, the reverse of +which would be unnatural; and if it were a defect, every day that passes +over his head would remedy it. What is now wanting in muscular +expression, is in a great measure supplied by his eye, which glows with +animation, and intelligence, and at times SPEAKS the language of a soul +really impassioned. Upon a close view, when apart from the factitious +aids and incumbrances of stage-lights, costume, and paint, he must be a +shallow-sighted physiognomist who would not at the first glance be +struck by Master Payne's countenance. A more extraordinary mixture of +softness and intelligence never were associated in a human face. The +forehead is particularly fine; Lavater would say that genius and energy +were enthroned there; and over the whole, though yet quite boyish, there +is a strong expression of what is called manliness; by which is to be +understood, not present, but the indications of future manliness. How +strongly and distinctly this is characterised in the boy's face, may be +collected from an anecdote which, exclusive of its application to this +subject, we think well worth relating on account of the other party +concerned in it. + +A day or two before Master Payne left Philadelphia he and a friend of +his walking in a remote part of the city, were encountered by a strange +old woman, who requested alms with an earnestness which exacted +attention. The gentleman who was in company with our youth, and from +whom we deliver the story, being an Irishman, instantly recognizing in +the petitioner, an unhappy countrywoman, stopped, surveyed her with more +than cursory regard, and put his hand into his pocket in order to give +her money. As there was in her aspect that which bespoke something that +had once been better accommodated, and had claims above a common +mendicant, he was searching in his pocket for a suitable piece of +silver, when the generous boy outstripping him, put unostentatiously, +into the old lady's hand some pieces of silver. She viewed them--drew +back--gazed upon him for some seconds with a fixed look of wonder, +delight and affection, then lifting up her eyes to heaven, in a tone of +voice, and with a solemnity which no words can express, exclaimed, "May +the great God of heaven shower down his blessings on YOUR INFANT YEARS, +AND MANLY FACE!" Quickness of conception beyond all other people is now +allowed, even by the English, to be characteristic of the people of +Ireland, once considered by those of the sister kingdom as the Baeotians +of Britain; and we are disposed to concur with the Irish gentleman, who, +in his exultation and honest prejudice said, "that the woman might be +known to be Irish from her warm gratitude, her quick discernment, and +her elegant extemporaneous compliment." In fact, if Edmund Burke +himself, who exceeded all mankind in the quickness and elegance of +complimentary replies, had been considering the matter a whole hour, he +could not have uttered anything to surpass it. + +Of Master Payne's person we cannot speak (nor do we hope) so favourably +as of his face. And we much fear that he will not undergo the pain of +mending it by abstinence from indulgence. Early hours, active or even +hard exercise, particularly of the gymnastic kind, and diligent +unremitting study are as indispensable to his fame, if he means to be a +player, as food or drink are to his support. In general his action is +elegant--his attitudes bold and striking; but of the former he sometimes +uses too much, and in his appropriation of the latter he is not always +sufficiently discriminating. This was particularly observable in his +performance of Frederick in Lover's Vows--a character in which we shall +have occasion to speak of him, and with great praise in a future number. +His walk too, which in his own unaffected natural gait is not +exceptionable, he frequently spoils by a kind of pushing step, at open +war with dignity of deportment. It would be well for this young +gentleman if he had never seen Mr. Cooper. Perhaps he will be startled +at this; and flatters himself that he never imitates that gentleman. We +can readily conceive him to think so even at the moment he is doing it. +To imitate another, it is not necessary to intend to do so. Every day of +their lives men imitate without the intervention of the will. The +manners of an admired, or much-observed individual, insensibly root +themselves in a young person's habits--he draws them into his system, as +he does the atmosphere which surrounds him. We doubt very much whether +Mr. Cooper himself would not be surprised if he knew how much he +imitates Kemble. Though seemingly a paradox, we firmly rely upon it--Mr. +Cooper _may_ be aiming at Cooke, when he is by old habitual taint really +hitting Kemble.[1] On this subject of imitation much is to be said. +Kemble rose when every bright luminary of the stage had set. Being the +best of his day, in the metropolis, he has become the standard of acting +to the young and inexperienced; more from pride than want of judgment he +goes wrong; his system of acting is radically vitious; but as it makes +labour pass as a substitute for genius, by transferring expression from +its natural organs to the limbs, and making attitude and action the +chief representatives of the passions and the feelings, it not only +fascinates because it catches the eye, but is adopted because extremely +convenient to the vast majority of young adventurers on the stage, who, +possessing neither the feelings fit for the profession, nor the organs, +nor the genius to express them if they had, are glad to find a +substitute for both. Hence the system of Mr. Kemble has spread like a +plague--infected the growing race of actors, mixed itself with the very +life-blood of the art, and extended its contagion through every new +branch, even to the very last year's bud. Thus Mr. Kemble is imitated by +those who never saw him. Let us tell Master Payne that it is the very +worst school he could go to, this of the statuary. It is as much +inferior to the old one--to that of Garrick, Barry, Mossop, and nature, +as the block of marble from which the Farnesian Hercules was hewed, is +to the god himself. Of its superiority we need urge no farther proof +than that of Mr. Cooke, who, though assuredly inferior to several of the +old stock, and groaning under unexampled intemperance, has in spite of +every impediment which artful jealousy and envy of his talents could +raise against him, risen so high in public estimation, that even when +just reeking from offences which would not have been endured in Garrick +or Barry, his return is hailed with shouts, as if it were a national +triumph. And why?--because he is of the old school, and scorns the +cajolery of statue-attitude and stage-trick. + + [Footnote 1: Had Mr. Cooper entered on the profession in the days of + Garrick, we are persuaded he would, with the advantage of that great + man as a model, and the scientific Macklin as an instructor, have been + one of the first actors that ever existed.] + +We speak thus freely to Master Payne because we think he has talents +worth the interposition of criticism, and if we speak at all, must speak +the whole truth. The praise we give him might well be distrusted, if +from any false delicacy we slurred over his defects and errors. The most +dangerous rock in his way will be adulation. Sincerely we wish him to be +assured that those who mix their applause with a proper alloy of censure +are his best friends. Indiscriminate flatterers are no better than the +snake which besmears its prey with slime, only to gorge it the more +easily. + +On reviewing what we have written, we find no observation on Master +Payne's voice, in which nature has been very bountiful to him. We heard +him a few times, with no little pain strain it out of its compass. He +need not do so; since, judiciously managed, it is equal to all the +purposes of his profession. Those are dangerous experiments, by which +he may spoil a voice naturally clear, melodious, and of tolerable +compass. His pronunciation is at times hurtful to a very nice ear. He is +not to imagine that he has spoken as he ought when he has uttered words +as they are pronounced in general conversation. There are some, and high +ones too, who will say "good boy" when they mean "goodbye;" and it would +not be at all impossible to hear a very fine lady say that she was daown +in taown, to buy a gaown. We do not accuse Master Payne of this; but at +times a little of the _a_ cheats the _o_ of its good old round rights; +so distantly however, as not to be noticed except by a very accurate +ear--but he ought not to let _any ear_ discover it. + +To the correct orthoepist, several persons on the stage give offence in +the pronunciation of the pronoun possessive MY--speaking it in all cases +with the full open Y, as it would rhyme to _fly_, which should only be +when it is put in contradistinction to _thy_ or _his_, or any other +pronoun possessive: in all other cases it should be sounded like _me_. +This is a pure Americanism, not practised in any other place where the +English language is spoken, and, so far as it goes, deprives the word of +a quality of nice distinctness. + +It gives us great pleasure to communicate to our readers the +intelligence that Master Payne's success at Richmond, even surpassed +that which he had met before. From a letter submitted to our perusal we +have, with permission, made the following extract: "Wednesday night +Payne arrived; Thursday was the first day of his performance; the other +nights, being Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and +Saturday, when the house closed for the season; and on Sunday he +departed in the mail stage. This flying visit (of ten days only) +produced him upwards of SEVENTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS!!" + + * * * * * + +It was our intention to confine our remarks on this occasion entirely to +Master Payne. It seemed to us that the interest taken by the public in +this native plant, the novelty of his appearance, and, indeed, his own +merits, laid claim to a very particular discussion of his performances: +but as we read over the play for that purpose, Mr. M'Kenzie's _Old +Norval_ forced itself so imperiously upon our remembrance, that we could +not drop the subject without doing justice to that gentleman's +performance and our own feelings. It was a specimen of acting and +speaking we little expected to meet with: masterly, chaste, and +exquisitely affecting; no less gratifying to the critical ear than to +the feeling heart. We particularly admired his attestation to heaven of +his innocence: + + As I hope + For mercy before the judgment seat of heaven + The tender lamb that never nipt the grass + Is not more innocent than I of murder. + +And his pathetic supplication for mercy: + + Oh, gentle lady! by your lord's dear life, + Which these weak hands, I swear, did ne'er assail, + And by your children's welfare spare my age! + Let not the iron tear my aged joints, + And my gray hairs bring to the grave with pain. + +The first of these he poured forth with an expression of simple +sincerity, and the second with a gentle earnestness, so humble, so +passionately moving, that none but the most hardened hearts could resist +it. Even the gallery felt its force and made the house resound with its +rude applause--'twas well; and we may say with Pierre, + + We could have hugged the greasy rogues; they pleased us. + +As in the two former passages Mr. M'Kenzie presented a specimen of +exquisitely pathetic expression, so he evinced his skill and powers of +speaking in that speech which may be called the pride of the +play--perhaps of all Scottish poetry too, in which he relates the +finding of the child: + + One stormy night, as I remember well, + The wind and rain beat hard upon our roof; + Red came the river down, and loud and oft + The angry spirit of the water shriek'd, &c. + +Lord Randolph is a character of which we doubt whether Cooke himself +could make any thing. Mr. Warren did all that is usually done for him. + +Partial as we are to Mr. Wood's acting generally, we did not perceive in +his performance of Glenalvon any thing to please us very much, or +augment his reputation. + +In Lady Randolph, Mrs. Barrett would deserve much commendation, if she +could get rid of a few faults in her speaking. Her feelings and personal +appearance are finely adapted to the character. + + * * * * * + +A correspondent at Baltimore, of whose judgment we think highly, has +sent us the following communication, and expressed a wish that we should +publish it--at the same time acknowledging that it had been printed in +some periodical paper. As we wish to oblige our correspondent, and there +is no opinion in it which, according to our present idea of the company +violently militates against our own, we give it a place. + + +While so interesting a scene is now acting upon the great theatre of the +world, and as the chief performer has recently closed one of the acts +with a very important incident, it may, by many be considered as a +relaxation, to employ a few minutes in taking a concise view of our own +little theatre; the leader of which has also so lately closed his +campaign in Baltimore. + +I am the more desirous of offering a few remarks upon this subject, from +having occasionally heard observations indicating some disapprobation +relative to our theatrical arrangements. Such impressions, we flatter +ourselves, a little more information upon the subject, and a candid +reconsideration will do away. From a knowledge of the state of the +theatres in other parts of the continent, we feel ourselves perfectly +safe in declaring, that ours is most unquestionably entitled to the +first place, whether we have reference to the performers composing the +company, the scenery, dresses, decorations or music. + +In tragedy and genteel comedy, Mr. Wood must certainly be considered +preeminent, with the exception of Mr. Cooper only, who though perhaps[2] +excelling him in some tragical characters, is considered by many good +judges, as by no means his superior in many appertaining to genteel +comedy. + + [Footnote 2: Perhaps!!! Mr. Wood we dare say has too much good sense + to relish this _perhaps_, it rather savours of irony.] + +Mrs. Wood ranks high in the same line; the correct style in which she +gives the sense of her author, the refinement of her taste and her clear +and distinct utterance, must always ensure to her the approbation of an +enlightened audience; we feel some reluctance in adding that her +uniformity of declamation, and something in her tones approaching to +monotony, retard her progress to that excellence to which the +qualifications abovementioned must evidently lead her. + +Mr. Warren, viewed only as a performer, will be found fairly deserving +of our praise. In the arduous character of the "inimitable and +unimitated Falstaff" he has no rival on this side the Atlantic. In the +other class of characters, to which he modestly confines himself, he is +always correct and respectable. + +In Mr. Cone, we see a young performer gradually rising in estimation. To +the manners of a gentleman, he adds a habit of discrimination, the +effect of a liberal education; and could he get over a certain +inflexibility of voice, (whether arising from nature or habit we know +not) he must very soon become a distinguished performer. + +Mr. M'Kenzie is also a most respectable and useful actor: his person and +manner give him many advantages in performing characters requiring +dignity and firmness of deportment; as Glenalvon in Douglas, he is +excellent; and those who have witnessed his performance of sir Archy +M'Sarcasm and sir Pertinax M'Sycophant, will unite with us in paying him +the tribute of applause for his correct personification of the wily +Scotchman.--His talents do not seem calculated for genteel comedy in +general. + +Mrs. Barrett must be considered as a very useful actress; her figure is +well adapted to the characters she undertakes, and her general +deportment upon the stage immediately indicates her perfect acquaintance +with the boards. + +Mrs. Wilmot needs not our panegyric to call forward that public +attention she has so long merited; her qualifications as an actress are +uncommonly general--whether we see her in genteel comedy, or in the +English opera, we are equally gratified with the diversity of her +talents. As a singer, her voice and judgment are equally conspicuous, +and those who have seen her in the character of Ophelia, will readily +admit her claim to the pathetic. + +In addition to Mrs. Wilmot as a vocal performer, we have Mrs. Seymour, +who possesses much sweetness and melody of tone, and whose modest and +unassuming manner of giving her songs is not their smallest attraction. + +In low comedy where shall we find a competitor to Jefferson? The only +performer who seems to bear the comparison for a moment is Twaits; but +although we willingly subscribe to his merits, yet we can by no means +admit him capable of that variety of character for which Mr. Jefferson +is so distinguished. + +Mr. Blisset is also very prominent in the same line--Together with a +fund of humour he possesses a whimsical eccentricity of character which +is always diverting; his voice however, is frequently too weak to be +heard in the remote parts of the house. + +Mr. and Mrs. Francis have long enjoyed the _favour_ of the public. +Francis has much comic talent, sometimes, however, he is led by it, a +little too much into the caricature. Mrs. F. is not less diverting, and +remarkable for her appropriate manner of dressing for old characters; a +property very estimable. The ladies too often sacrifice a correct +representation of the character in this respect, to an unconquerable +aversion they so naturally retain of appearing old and ugly. + +Mr. West, lately added to the company, seems to promise something in low +comedy; and Mr. Hardinge, in Irish characters, and vocal parts will +certainly be an acquisition to the theatre. Although our dramatis +personae do not afford much strength as to their vocal abilities; some of +those abovenamed, with the assistance of Wilmot and Jacobs, form a group +sufficient to render a musical piece very entertaining. + +It should be recollected, that in all theatrical companies, there must +necessarily be a number of inferior rank; performers of merit will not +take the minor parts abounding in every dramatic piece; and while we +condemn a want of excellence in the performer, we should consider, that +did he possess more talent, he would not fill that situation. + +Our orchestra will assuredly bear the strictest scrutiny.--The names of +Gillingham and Niniger are sufficient of themselves to stamp its +character. The other accompaniments are very respectable and +sufficiently numerous. The scenery, as far as the scale of the stage +will admit, is frequently beautiful, sometimes superb. The illuminated +wings recently exhibited in some of the pieces last produced, are new to +this country, and have a very brilliant effect: they do much credit to +Messrs. Robins and Stewart in the painting-room. The dresses of the +principal performers are rich and beautiful; to those who are acquainted +with European theatres, it will not be considered as amplifying, when we +assert, that we do not yield to them in that species of decoration. The +management of the scenery is as correct and subject to as few +interruptions as possible; and the expedition with which one act +succeeds another, can be only appreciated by those who have witnessed +the tedious delay so often experienced in other places. + +We are assured no pains have been spared by the manager to procure the +most eminent performers; nor is any opportunity omitted to take +advantage of the accidental presence of any performer, whose engagement +promises to gratify the town. + +This theatre has taken the lead in getting up every thing novel, in +either branch of the drama, and that in a style very much superior to +any other establishment of the kind upon the continent. It must be +evident that it is the wish, as it is the interest of the manager, to +conduct the trust committed to him upon the most liberal principles: +that which pleases the public most, is most favourable to him. + +It must be observed, that the limits of a sketch like this, could only +admit of a very concise and general view of the subject. The writer has +no farther connexion or interest in the theatre, than that he holds in +common with those who are partial to dramatic entertainments, and who +think with him that a well regulated theatre, which is the only public +amusement Baltimore can boast of, instructs while it amuses, and +conduces much to that grace and elegance of conversation and manners so +fascinating in private life. + + + + +IRISH MUSIC. + + +In the last number, the reader was presented with a short sketch upon +the subject of Irish music, in a letter from the celebrated poet Moore. +That gentleman very philosophically ascribes the mixture of levity and +melancholy which is discernible in the character, as well as the music +of the original native Irish, to political circumstances. All who have +paid attention to the airs of that country must have perceived that they +are extremely lively and exhilarating, or delightfully plaintive and +melancholy. The former may be considered as displaying the ground-work, +or the natural temperament, the other the superinduced adventitious +character, derived from poverty and oppression. A writer of considerable +talents and intimate knowledge of the subject (Mr. Walker) adverting to +the poetry as well as the music of Ireland, speaks as follows: + +"We see that music maintained its ground in this country even after the +invasion of the English, but its style suffered a change; for the +sprightly Phrygian gave place to the grave Doric, or the soft Lydian +measure. Such was the nice sensibility of the bards, such was their +tender affection for their country, that the subjections to which the +kingdom was reduced affected them with the heaviest sadness. Sinking +beneath this weight of sympathetic sorrow, they became a prey to +melancholy: hence the plaintiveness of their music: for the ideas that +arise in the mind are always congenial to, and receive a mixture from +the influencing passion. Another cause might have occurred in the one +just mentioned, in promoting a change in the style of our music; the +bards often driven together with their patrons, by the sword of +oppression, from the busy haunts of men, were obliged to lie concealed +in marshes, and in glyns and vallies resounding with the noise of +falling waters, or filled with portentous echoes. Such scenes as these, +by throwing a settled gloom over the fancy, must have considerably +increased their melancholy; so that when they attempted to sing, it is +not to be wondered at that their voices, thus weakened by struggling +against heavy mental depression, should rise rather by minor-thirds, +which consist but of four semitones, than by major-thirds which consist +of five. Now almost all the airs of this period are found to be set in +the minor-third, and to be of the sage and solemn nature which Milton +requires in his IL PENSEROSO."[3] + + [Footnote 3: See Hist. Mem. of the Irish Bards.] + +To illustrate his position, Mr. Walker introduces the following +anecdote: "About the year 1730, one Maguire, a vintner, resided near +Charing Cross, London. His house was much frequented, and his skill in +playing on the harp was an additional incentive: even the duke of +Newcastle and several of the ministry sometimes condescended to visit +it. He was one night called upon to play some Irish tunes; he did so; +they were plaintive and solemn. His guests demanded the reason, and he +told them that the native composers were too deeply distressed at the +situation of their country, and her gallant sons, to be able to compose +otherwise. But, added he, take off the restraints under which they +labour, and you will not have reason to complain of the plaintiveness of +their notes. + +"Offence was taken at these warm effusions: his house became gradually +neglected, and he died soon after of a broken heart. An Irish harper who +was a cotemporary of Maguire, and like him, felt for the sufferings of +his country, had this distich engraven on his harp: + + Cur lyra funestas edit percussa sonores? + Sicut amissum sors diadema gemit. + +But perhaps the melancholy spirit which breathes through the Irish music +and poetry, may be attributed to another cause; a cause which operated +anterior and subsequent to the invasion of the English: we mean the +remarkable susceptibility of the Irish to the passion of love; a passion +which the munificent establishment of the bards left them at liberty +freely to indulge. While the mind is enduring the torments of fear, +despair or hope, its effusions cannot be gay. The greater number of the +productions of those amorous poets, Tibullus, Catullus, Petrarch and +Hammond, are elegiac. The subject of their songs is always love, and +they seem to understand poetry to be designed for no other purpose than +to stir up that passion in the mind. + + + + +SPORTING INTELLIGENCE. + +COLONEL THORNTON'S DEPARTURE FROM YORKSHIRE. + + +Every true sportsman of this county must regret to hear that what has +been for sometime rumoured has at last taken place. Colonel Thornton has +been induced to part with Falconer's-hall, and if the report is true, we +have to congratulate him in having selected the most enviable and +princely domain in England, a residence unparalleled in its situation, +either for a man of fashion, a _bon vivant_, or a sportsman. After +having given the very best sport in hawking, coursing and hunting, at +Scarborough, Falconer's-hall, and to the Saltergate Club, the colonel, a +few days since, proceeded through York, in his way to Spy Park, in +Wiltshire, followed by a cavalcade, (such as attracted the attention of +the whole of this place) in the following order: + +First, the boat-wagon, so well known by the opponents of my lord Milton, +and held by the owner invaluable, from having conveyed not less than +three thousand independent free-holders of this virtuous county to vote, +and ultimately, in spite of ministerial influence, to elect lord Milton, +a descendent of that man, the pattern of patriotism and unexampled +rectitude, Charles Watson Wentworth, marquis of Rockingham;--this wagon, +admirably contrived for the carrying of luggage or loose dogs, covered +with the skins of stags, fallow-deer and roebucks killed by the colonel, +nets, otter spears, fishing rods, and guns, drawn by four thorough-bred +cream-coloured Arabian mares bred by the king. Next a dog-cart, which +carried milk-white terriers, and beautiful gray-hounds; these were all +sheeted and embroidered with the different matches they had won: the +novelty of this appeared to excite particular gratification. The +huntsman, mounted upon a powerful, fine gray hunter, followed by an +immense pack (judged not less than one hundred couple) of stag-hounds, +fox-hounds, and otter-hounds, and lively lap-dog beagles. A stud-groom +and four grooms, each leading a thorough-bred horse, the descendants, +as it was said, of Jupiter;--deer-skins covered them by way of housing. +A keeper appropriately dressed, with three brace of pointers. The +falconer in green and silver, surrounded by hawks, and on his fist a +venerable grand-duke, closed this procession. Following, we understand, +there were nine wagon loads of old wine and ale, brought from Thornvile +Royal, inestimable from its age, and held by the duke of York as the +finest wine in the kingdom. These wines, moved at such an immense +expense, were from twenty-five to an hundred years old. + +Many sportsmen, though delighted with the _coup d'[oe]il_, could not +forbear saying they should never see such sport as they had enjoyed with +the colonel, and envied those who were now to partake of his amusements +and hospitality in Wiltshire. + +The distance we understand this cavalcade is to travel, is about two +hundred miles. A farther account of this very valuable removal, and +their safe arrival at their destination (and such was the sincere wish +of all the spectators) we hope to give hereafter. + + * * * * * + +Spy Park is situated in that part of the county of Wilts called North +Wiltshire, which is very dissimilar, in geographical features and +natural characteristics, to the southern portion of the county. Whilst +the former is distinguished by its numerous inclosures, dairy farms, and +manufacturing towns, the latter is chiefly occupied by the +wide-spreading downs called Salisbury Plain. + +Spy Park has, for many generations, been the property of the Baynton +family, some of whom appear to have been knights of St. John of +Jerusalem, in the time of Henry II. The late sir Edward Baynton Holt, +bart. died at the advanced age of ninety, in January, 1800, when his +estates devolved to his son and heir, sir Andrew Baynton Holt, who has +recently sold or let Spy Park to colonel Thornton. + +The mansion is a plain but spacious building, seated in a park which +abounds with fine old oak and other timber trees. The grounds are +diversified by bold swells and winding vallies, and command at various +stations, some extensive and interesting prospects. To the south-east +the bold promontory called Roundaway-hill, presents its steep acclivity, +with its commanding encampment on the summit. A range of lofty +chalk-hills extend thence for several miles to the east, on the southern +face of which is the White-Horse of Cherril, and above it is another +encampment, called Oldbury-castle. + +At the extremity of the park, towards the west, the grounds slope +gradually to the river Avon, and its fertile meadows; and at an old +gate, called the Spy, a very extensive tract of country is unfolded. +Whilst the plantations of Bowden Park, and the venerable abbey of +Laycock, attract the eye near the fore-ground, the lofty free-stone +hills around Bath are seen in the middle distance, and a large tract of +Gloucestershire is observed extending to the north-east; whilst the more +picturesque and romantic features of Somersetshire are beheld, +stretching to the horizon, in the west and south-western directions. The +park includes an area of nearly eight miles in circumference, and during +the residence of the late sir Edward, its venerable forest-like trees +were sacredly preserved from the axe; they were, however, I am informed, +considerably thinned by the last proprietor. + + * * * * * + +Since the publication of colonel Thornton's departure from Yorkshire, +the following letter has appeared in the public prints: + +I am happy to inform the public, through the medium of your interesting +paper, that the cavalcade of colonel Thornton at this place, was +distinguished by a junction of an immense number of sporting and other +valuable paintings; together with a collection of rare exotic plants, +and three wagon loads of bald-faced and other red deer, roebucks, +Asiatic deer, and party-coloured fallow deer; a _garde chasse_ had the +charge of two brace of Russian and French wild boars, the latter +understood to be a present from Napoleon, in return for seventy couple +of high-bred fox-hounds, descended from the famous old Conqueror, and +sent to the emperor Napoleon during the last peace, whose high mettle +afforded him the most exquisite gratification. A brace of cormorants +with silver rings around their necks, and broke in for fish-hunting; +together with ichneumons and pole-cat ferrit, for rat-hunting, and some +beautiful milk-white Muscovy ducks, and a number of high-bred blood +mares, foals, colts, fillies, and the two famous horses, the Esterhazy +and Theodolite, closed this splendid procession; and it is understood +that on their arrival at Spy Park they were met by the colonel and some +sporting friends, who expressed their astonishment, that after having +travelled through such almost impassable roads, amid torrents of rain, +and particularly the lap-dog beagles, not more than thirteen inches and +a half in height, and consequently often swimming, they should have +arrived without the least injury. + + I am, &c. + A SPECTATOR. + + _Chippenham._ + + * * * * * + +At Rockdale races, the Brighton shepherd, so well known as a pedestrian, +was matched against a horse of the honourable captain Harley Rodney's +(rode by lord Rodney), for one hundred yards. This race, from its +novelty, excited very considerable attention, and was won by the +shepherd. + + * * * * * + +A short time since, Rickets, the celebrated Hampshire pedestrian, +undertook, for a wager of five guineas, to run seventeen miles in two +hours, which he performed in one hour and forty-nine minutes. He has +undertaken, for one hundred guineas, to run twenty miles in two hours, +and will attempt it soon. + + * * * * * + +An extraordinary feat of pedestrianism was performed, by a man of the +name of Williams, steward to Mr. Crouch. He was backed for twenty +guineas, to go twenty miles in two hours. He started at Hammersmith, and +did the distance in unfavourable weather, in seven minutes within the +given time. His track was from Colnbrook, and to return to near the +Magpies. + + * * * * * + + +THE BUXTON BIT AND CHARLTON BRADOON. + +The former useful as well as elegant appendage to the harness of the +dashing chariot of the day is just introduced by Charles Buxton, esq. +The advantages arising from this improvement are obvious: in respect to +their infallible quality of preventing the numberless accidents which +daily occur by horses running away, they are peculiarly desirable. These +bits are made upon a very simple construction; they give the person who +has the reins in hand, the power of checking the horse by the most easy +movement imaginable, however light in hand, or hard in mouth (boring on +the bit) he may be. There are four loops in this regulating bit; in all +others there is only one. Mr. Buxton very much opposes the principle on +which lord Hawke, Mr. Annesley, and Mr. Thornhill act, with respect to +the chain, instead of the pole pieces. The Charlton bradoon, a favourite +for more than twenty years, has lost its consequence by the new +invention; the bearing rein now passes through the throat lash, but +formerly it only entered the bit, and went straight to the territ. + + * * * * * + +The two divines who rendered themselves so very conspicuous at the late +punching match, at Moulsey, excuse themselves by observing, that the +apostolic injunction, "a bishop should be no striker," was never +intended to restrain the conduct of the inferior clergy. + + * * * * * + +A match was made a short time ago, for one hundred guineas, play or pay, +for a hack mare, the property of Mr. Sitwell, to perform fifty-six miles +in four hours, with half an hour stoppage allowed for feeding. The match +was undertaken soon after, from a spot near Shillingford, Berks, to +Haunston, and the mare did her task in seven minutes less than the given +time. She performed chiefly by the trot, and baited after going half the +distance in three minutes less than half the time. The odds were +considerably against the performance. + + * * * * * + + +A HARE CHASED BY A FLOCK OF GEESE! + +A flock of geese belonging to Mr. Lloyd, of the town-house, at Marford, +seven miles from Chester, lately set a hare on the top of that hill, +when poor puss, bursting from the cackling tribe, ran down the hill and +was pursued by the whole flock, some flying, some running with extended +wings till they overtook her, when puss slyly gave them the double; and, +returning, was so closely pursued by the irritated flock as to be taken +alive by a servant-girl of Mrs. Pate's, as she was attempting the latch +in her mistresses garden, in the presence of upwards of twenty +spectators. Her carcass was afterwards made a present of to a +wedding-party in that neighbourhood. + + * * * * * + + +THE WALKING-POST. + +The name of this extraordinary person, whose labours surpass any of the +boasted pedestrian achievements, is William Brackbank. He is a native of +Millom, in Cumberland. He daily performed the distance between +Whitehaven and Ulverstone, on foot, under the disagreeable circumstance +of frequently wading the river at Muncaster, by which place he +constantly went, which is at least three miles round; and, including the +different calls he had to make, at a short distance from the road, his +daily task was not short of forty-seven miles. He is at present +walking-post from Manchester to Glossop, in Derbyshire, a distance of +sixteen miles, which he performs every day, Sundays excepted; returns +the same evening, and personally delivers the letters, newspapers, &c. +in that populous and commercial county, to all near the road, which +makes his daily task not less than thirty-five miles, or upwards; and +what is more extraordinary, he has performed this business, for upwards +of two years, without the intervention of a day, except Sunday, and has +never varied a quarter of an hour, from his usual time of arriving at +Glossop. He performs all this in less than twelve hours a day. + + * * * * * + +A foot-race was run in the park between a lieutenant Hawkey and a Mr. +Snowden of Nottingham-street. The distance was two hundred yards, the +stakes fifty guineas, and the performers not being professional runners, +some betting took place. The race was won by about a yard by Mr. +Snowden, and the distance was performed in twelve seconds. + + * * * * * + + +PUGILISM. + +A battle took place at Wilsden Green, between Tom O'Donnell, and a +countryman, by trade a boot-closer. They fought forty-five hard rounds, +in which the countryman got a severe beating. Having boasted before the +battle that he could beat any man, he left the field of action, as may +be supposed, a little ashamed of himself. + + * * * * * + +A severe battle was fought at Marlborough-common, Wilts, by Mr. Howell, +hatter, and Mr. Titcomb, both of Marlborough. Soon after eight they set +to, the former seconded by Mr. Mead, collar-maker, and the latter by an +ostler at the Castle-inn. The first three rounds were in favour of +Howell, who laughed at his antagonist, and told him if he could not +strike harder he had better have staid at home; but the fourth round put +an end to his laughing, having received a left-handed blow on his head, +which cut his ear, and brought him to the ground; although he never +recovered this blow, yet he stood twenty-five rounds and showed good +bottom, but was so exhausted by the loss of blood, and so severely +beaten in the body as well as his face, that he gave in to Titcomb, who +said he had no objection to such exercise every morning in the week. + +A pitched battle for one hundred guineas, was fought at Bognor, Bucks, +between a farmer of the name of Mitchell, who resides at Bognor, and a +publican of the name of George. The match was made in consequence of a +dispute respecting their merits as boxers. The battle lasted fifty-five +minutes, in the presence of about one thousand spectators. It was what a +professional boxer would have termed gluttony from beginning to ending. +There was no advantage in skill, strength or bottom, the former of which +neither of the champions possessed, but it was fighting in earnest at a +scratch, until one was knocked down. Mitchell at length gave in, but he +was able to walk away, which was not the case with the victor, who was +put to bed at the house next the scene of action. The victor was +seconded by Jones, a professional bruiser from London. + + * * * * * + +A remarkable instance of the effects of fear on irrational animals +lately occurred in Blickling Park, Norfolk, during the races there: At +the very height of sport, a covey of partridges sprang up, and were +flying across the ground, when overcome with alarm at the noise and +bustle of the scene, they fell lifeless among the crowded throng, and +were picked up by some of the spectators. + + * * * * * + +A singular occurrence lately took place at Cobham church: The earl of +Darnley was followed there by one of his pointers, which shortly became +mad, and threw the whole congregation into confusion and alarm. A +countryman, with great courage, procured a rope, and slipped it round +the animal's neck, and hung him across one of the pews. Fortunately no +person sustained any injury. + + * * * * * + +A most enormous shark was lately caught by the fishermen at Hastings; it +was entangled in seventeen of their nets, and completely broke them all; +but being wounded and nearly spent, they contrived to tow on shore this +monster of the deep. It measures thirty feet in length, and upwards of +twenty in circumference, and is supposed to weigh at least ten ton; has +four rows of teeth, and the throat is so large that it could swallow a +man with the greatest ease. It is considered to be the largest of the +species ever met with in any of the seas of Europe. Colonel Bothwell has +purchased it for his friend Mr. Home, the surgeon, of Sackville-street, +who intends to dissect it, and place the skeleton in his museum. + + * * * * * + + +DUCK SHOOTING. + +FROM "FOWLING,"--A POEM. + + The shadowy Night has nearly run her course + Over the silent world--the cock repeats + His warning note--behooves us to prepare + For our expected sport. Now when the stars + Slowly decrease, and the faint glimmering light, + First trembles in the east, we hasten forth, + To seek the rushing river's wandering wave. + The doubtful gloom shall favour our approach, + And should we through th' o'erhanging bushes view + The dim-discovered flock, the well-aim'd shot + Shall have insur'd success, nor leave the day + To be consum'd in vain. For shy the game, + Nor easy of access: the fowler's toils + Precarious; but inur'd to ev'ry chance, + We urge those toils with glee. E'en the broad sun, + In his meridian brightness, shall not check + Our steady labour; for some rushy pool, + Some hollow willowy bank, the skulking birds + May then conceal, which our stanch dogs shall pierce, + And drive them clam'ring forth. Those tow'ring rocks, + With nodding wood o'erhung, that faintly break + Upon the straining eye, descending deep, + A hollow basin form, the which receives + The foaming torrent from above. Around + Thick alders grow. We steal upon the spot + With cautious step, and peering out, survey + The restless flood. No object meets our eye. + But hark what sound is that approaching near, + "Down close," The wild-ducks come, and darting down, + Throw up on ev'ry side the troubled wave; + Then gayly swim around with idle play, + With breath restrain'd, and palpitating heart, + I view their movements, whilst my well-taught dogs + Like lifeless statues crouch. Now is the time, + Closer they join; nor will the growing light + Admit of more delay--with fiery burst, + The unexpected death invades the flock; + Tumbling they lie, and beat the dashing pool, + Whilst those remoter from the fatal range + Of the swift shot, mount up on vig'rous wing, + And wake the sleeping echoes as they fly. + Quick on the floating spoil my spaniels rush, + And drag them to the shore. + + * * * * * + + + + +MISCELLANY. + + +A more lively and yet poignant satire upon the wilful corruption of the +stage, the degeneracy of the public taste, and the reigning follies of +the British nation can scarcely be imagined than the following, which, +with several more under the same signature, has appeared in a celebrated +periodical work in London. + +_To the right worshipful John Bull, of the united kingdom of Great +Britain and Ireland._ + +RESPECTED SIR, + +Denied access to your sacred person, I avail myself of the press to +solicit your notice. You have, doubtless, by this time totally forgotten +poor Theobaldus Secundus, for short memories are not the exclusive +property of great wits. Truth is said to lie at the bottom of a well, +and as your worship seldom looks beyond the surface, I am not surprised +that she should hitherto have eluded your researches. If fate has +ordained my inkstand to be the bucket that shall draw her from her +watery grave for your edification, I expect a premium from your humane +society for my pains. If not, "you may kill the next Percy yourself." I +am now to solicit your patience, while I recount my adventures, in doing +which I shall ape the dignity rather than the prolixity, of the runaway +prince of Troy, when seated on the high bed of the enamoured queen of +Carthage. + +I am, may it please your worship, grand nephew to the renowned Lewis +Theobald, one of those numerous broth-spoiling commentators, who have +smothered poor Shakspeare in the onion sauce of conjectural criticism. +My great uncle was, with reverence be it spoken, a great blockhead; but +that was no fault of his, he being a younger brother, and the family +genius being vested in my grandfather, with remainder to his sons in +tail male. From my earliest childhood I have looked upon Shakspeare as +the real king of England, and the two winter theatres as his proper +palaces. "The period spent on stubborn Troy," has now elapsed, since I +began a commentary on the plays of our immortal bard. O, the rivers of +ink that I have exhausted in cleansing his Augean page from the +black-letter filth heaped upon it by his different commentators! The +task was laborious, but such labour is my delight. The waters of Avon +suit my palate better than Boniface's ale. "I eat my Shakspeare, I drink +my Shakspeare, and (when certain players enact him) I always sleep upon +my Shakspeare." + +Apollo was a doctor of physic as well as a doctor of divinity, and +Dryden, we are told, took his physic whenever he wanted to borrow his +inspiration. A dramatic writer of the present day writes tragedy in a +helmet facing a mirror. Ever while you live encourage the imagination! +My faith in Shakspeare is so unbounded, that I verily believe the +hell-broth of Macbeth's witches would, if properly mixed, engender a +real armed head and bloody child. I lately at a great expense, collected +all the materials in my kitchen-copper; I must own the experiment +failed; but I found out the cause. The resurrection man, whom I employed +to get me the "liver of blaspheming Jew," had made free with the corpse +of a very religious man of that persuasion. I must be more careful +another time--but this is foreign to our present purpose. + +Having completed my commentary, my parched hopes sighed for the golden +shower, which I expected from presenting my dedication to your worship. +The times were tempting, your two winter playhouses were at that time +experiencing a nightly overflow, and a Tragedy was, as she should be, +all the rage! I knew not the cause, but rejoicing in the effect, huddled +my manuscript into my great-coat pocket, and trotted to your residence +in Portland-place. For be it known, sir, to those whom it may concern, +(your tradesmen) that you no longer reside within five minutes' walk of +the Royal Exchange. Formerly you passed your evenings in posting your +leger, and shaking your head at the follies of Fashion; you now exhaust +that portion of the day in posting to the opera, or shaking your heels +at Willis's rooms, and your elbows at the Union Club. If I felt pleased +at finding you at home, how was my satisfaction increased, by hearing +from a yellow-bellied waspish footman that you were busy with the first +tragedian of the day? Good! said I to myself, this must be Kemble: there +is no man better able to appreciate my labours--I'll break in upon them +without ceremony. On approaching your worship's door, I heard the words +"knuckle down" articulated in a shrill voice. I thought this an odd +exclamation for the first tragedian of the day; but how was I petrified +with astonishment, on entering the room, to find you on your knees, +playing at marbles with the little Roscius! Speechless with admiration I +retired unperceived. To have deranged a single taw would, in my mind, +have been a sacrilege as great as an attempt to upset the balance of the +Copernican system. I had scarce time to reflect on your improvement in +dramatic taste, when I learned that you had engaged a Roscia at your +theatre in Covent-Garden. Indeed, so wide had your love of the rising +generation at that time extended, I was credibly informed that Genoa was +on the point of shipping a squalling Roscium for the edification of your +opera-house, when the bubble burst like the gas of the Pall-Mall +lamp-lighter: Reason's dragon-teeth had been buried long enough, and a +race of men succeeded. The worshipful John Bull acted the part of the +cow, in Tom Thumb. Ridicule, that infallible emetic of sick minds, had +eased your stomach of its baby incumbrance; Miss Mudie returned to her +mamma, and Master Betty also retired to break Priscian's head, and hide +his own in the bosom of alma mater. + +How elastic is hope when a man thinks he has written a good book, and +what mortal ever supposed himself the author of a bad one? _Quassas +reficit rates._ I again collected my darling notes on Shakspeare, and in +the firm hope that your stomach was well disposed to its natural +aliment, assaulted your door with face as brazen as the knocker I +handled. It was Saturday night, and your yellow barouche was waiting at +the door, but I confidently reckoned upon five minutes' conversation +with you, ere you repaired to the evening lecture, to which I concluded +a sober man like you was about to adjourn. While hesitating upon the fit +mode to address you, a figure descended the stairs, which, at first +sight, I mistook for an Alguazil, in a plethora, but upon nearer +approach found to be your worshipful self, posting to the opera, clad in +a great-coat of the newest cut, all fringe and frippery, the offspring +of a German tailor. You and your cloak were so enveloped in frogs and +self-conceit, that I could compare you to nothing but king Pharaoh, +inoculated with a plague greater than any in Egypt, an Italian singer. +After desiring me in a surly tone, to call tomorrow morning, your +worship mounted your vehicle, and scampered away to the region of +recitative. O, cried I, in bitterness of spirit, why has John Bull, my +revered patron, quitted his city residence? in his warehouse he has +bales of cotton in abundance, and might, like the wise Ulysses, stuff +his large and long ears with a portion of that commodity, to enable him +to escape the snares of the Haymarket syren. + +Those who have patrons must also have patience. I dissembled my chagrin, +and you may remember, most worshipful sir, that I called the ensuing +day, at two o'clock, to allow you time to ponder on the morning's +service. Alas! I was now fated to be forestalled by a son of France, as +I had before been by a daughter of Italy. Both kingdoms boast the same +emperor, and their natives come hither upon the same embassy. While I +and Shakspeare were kicking our heels in the hall, you and Mons. +Deshayes were kicking yours before a pier glass in the drawing-room. I +had soon the satisfaction to observe your worship endeavouring to +imitate the te-totum pirouettes of that agile gentleman, in doing which +you bore a much stronger resemblance to the dervise in the Arabian Tale, +inasmuch, as after spinning some time, you threw down a purse, which the +wily foreigner, as light of finger as of foot, did not fail to pocket. +This, to be sure was no time for Shakspeare; I, therefore, left your +worship, hoodwinked by the Frenchman, _so turn about three times and +catch whom you may_. + +I now sported the sullens in dignified retirement--but it would not do: +murder will out, and so will manuscripts. I resolved to make one more +effort. But were I to bring to your recollection all the mortifying +repulses I endured, I should quite destroy that patience of which you +stand so much in need, to listen to the debates at the next meeting of +your common council. At one time, naked from the waist upwards, you were +waging war with Belcher, the _Hittite_: at another, you had taken an +invisible girl into keeping: your cash was drained by lotteries, +missionaries, and mountebanks of all sorts and sizes: boys, even the +deaf, the dumb, and the blind, quitted their asylum in St. George's +Fields, for a more lucrative one on the boards of your theatres. Your +comic operas were, like Muzio Clementi's carts, mere vehicles for music, +and vehicles withal of such a clumsy fabric, that poor Euterpe, when she +took her nightly airings, reminded the spectator of Punch's wife in a +wheelbarrow; every expense was incurred, and every scribbler taken into +pay, except poor Shakspeare and his poorer commentator. + +One morning, about eleven o'clock, as I was indulging myself in a +solitary ramble over Blackfriars-bridge, I espied your well-known +barouche, which I followed, and observed to stop at the Elephant and +Castle! Heighday! said I, this is a metamorphosis indeed! John Bull has +returned to nature at last. He prefers "the sanded floor that grits +beneath the tread," to a Persian carpet, and a pot of porter to the +"wines of France and milk of Burgundy." I'll go and smoke a pipe with +him! here again I was in error, your carriage having passed the +public-house, and stopped at a methodist meeting adjoining. It seems +your worship had, with religious abhorrence, passed by the Elephant and +Castle, but borrowing in part the imagery of that sign, had converted +your half-reasoning self into a clumsy Christian pedler, with a bundle +of contraband goods at your back. One Joanna, it seems, was the +priestess of this temple, and your worship had commenced so strong a +flirtation with the Lambeth sybil, that all the world looked upon +wedlock as inevitable. As I stood in the porch, I overheard your amatory +sighs and groans which sounded in my ears like Boreas wooing Vulcan +through a cranny in a chimney-corner. On approaching your pew, how was I +struck with the change in your physiognomy! Your face heretofore as red +and round as the full moon, had, by the joint influence of that planet +and the aforesaid Joanna, extended itself to a length, which Momus +forbid mine should ever attain, unless when reflected from a +table-spoon, at the Piazza coffee-house! + +It was now confidently reported, that the days of Jeremy Collier had +returned: that the theatres were to be shut up, his majesty's servants +to receive their arrears of scarlet cloth, for regimentals to serve him +in the capacity of foot-soldiers: that the slayers of Syntax, who had +stuffed their mouths with melo-drames, and other pernicious compounds, +were to turn hewers of wood, and that your worship would license no +pantomimes, except those exhibited in the Blackfriars and +Tottenham-court roads. + +This intelligence rather pleased than alarmed me. I believed it only to +a certain extent, conceiving the fact to be, that my respected patron +was sick of silk banners and Peruvian suns, exhausting more gold than +they engendered, and that a ray of true taste was hereafter to dawn upon +the dramatic horizon. "The theatre," exclaimed I, "is the school of +morality; and morality and religion are inseparable." Without stopping +to prove my syllogism, I seized my commentary, and with a head and a +great-coat pocket full of my immortal labours, called once more in +Portland-place. You received me with civility, desired me to take a +seat, and treated me with a cup of chocolate, declining to take any +yourself, on account of a nausea at your stomach, which I ascribed to a +certain sentimental pill you had lately swallowed, rolled up in the +shape of a comedy, and for which I undertook to prescribe. You requested +me with eagerness to do so, and I drew my manuscript from my pocket, +thinking the golden moment at hand. I conjured you to consider, that in +dramatic entertainments the love of show was like the love of money, and +increased by indulgences, beyond the power of a manager to gratify: I +proved by mathematical demonstration, that small theatres wanted nothing +but good dialogue to support them: I entreated you to send your gorgeous +trumpery to rag-fair, and to diminish your overgrown Drury, which no man +could now think of entering unaccompanied by a telescope and an +ear-trumpet. All the persuasions of a Tully, all the energy of a +Waithman, were enlisted into my harangue; which finished by exhorting +your worship to step back half a century in your dramatic career, to a +period when theatrical property was somewhat more than a mouthful of +moonshine;--when Shakspeare was, indeed as he should be, and when +nothing was talked of in this great metropolis, save the great Goliath +of Stratford, on the banks of the Avon, and little David, of the +Adelphic terrace, on the banks of the Thames. + +This eloquent harangue was no sooner concluded, than your worship burst +into a horse-laugh, and stamping your foot on the floor, the room was +instantly filled with as motley a group as ever giggled decorum out of +countenance at a masquerade: among whom I recognized a zany, with a +blue perriwig, bestriding a large goose, and brandishing a golden egg, +whilst your worship was clapping your hands in all the raptures of +applause. "Perdition seize this fellow," cried your worship, pointing to +me, "his tongue chatters like a cherry-clapper, and lies like the +prospectus of a new magazine! All you, my pimps, parasites, and +pensioners--my leading mistresses and led captain--my mummers and +melo-dramatists, who conspire to drill holes in the breeches-pockets of +John Bull, that his coin may not corrode for want of circulation; if +ever this fellow enters my house again, with his deer-stealing Stratford +vagabond under his arm, tie them both up in a hopsack, and throw them +into the Thames! + +Such treatment, sir, I did not expect, for I never had a patron before. +When I expected the golden apple,--to be then pelted with a golden egg, +was too much for human endurance; I, therefore, took my leave with the +following address: "May your worship's stage be glutted with monsters, +running upon all fours, with your own taste! May wit and humour wing +their flight to another region, and the mighty void be supplied by +maukish sentiment, horse-collar grins, wood-demons, and other +show-cattle of the Smithfield muses! May you be visited by a locust +tribe of scribblers, who shall conspire to torment that groaning martyr, +the Press, with ducal lampoons, drowsy epics, and zig-zag heroics! With +Hope the upholsterer, and Bryon the idler, with Joe Miller in quarto, +Genius in thin duodecimo, Leadenhall romances, and Puritan biography: +and should your worship ever find yourself deviating from the path of +virtue, may _Hannah Glasse_ preserve your temperance, _Hannah More_ your +soberness, and _Anacreon Moore_ your chastity!" + +One word more, sir, and I take my leave. It was the opinion of Ophelia's +grave digger, that your worship was to the full as mad as the +hare-brained lover of that young lady. This circumstance gives that +royal youth a title to your first regards: my annotations on _Hamlet, +Prince of Denmark_, shall accordingly be submitted to your consideration +at our next monthly meeting, + + I am, &c, + THEOBALDUS SECUNDUS. + + * * * * * + + +DR. YOUNG.--THE BROTHERS. + +Young, the celebrated author of the Night Thoughts, wrote a tragedy +called the Brothers, and appropriated the profits of his third nights of +the representation for the benefit of some public charity. But the +proceeds falling short of one thousand pounds, which he had expected +would have been raised in this way, he very bountifully supplied the +deficiency by an additional donation. + + * * * * * + + +OTHELLO BURLESQUED. + +There was formerly in the Northern Liberties a petty theatre, called +Noah's Ark, from its being in the neighbourhood of a tavern, of which +that was the sign. A ludicrous circumstance took place there about +twenty years ago; a hobble-de-hoy, of the name of Purcell, with a wizen +face like "Death and Sin," having met with misfortunes, hired the +theatre for one night, and advertised Othello for his benefit. He played +himself the character of the valiant Moor. As he had many friends who +made considerable exertions in his favour, the house was crowded. His +acting was so truly ludicrous, that the audience instead of letting fall +the pearly drops over their cheeks, were in an unceasing roar of +laughter. Between the play and the farce a drunken fellow of the name of +Vaughan was to deliver the celebrated epilogue of "Bucks, have at ye +all." He had made the most solemn promise to abstain from his usual drop +of grog till he had performed his tour of duty. But alas! poor human +nature, like other great men, he yielded to the temptation of a flowing +bowl. When he came on the stage, and had just made a beginning-- + + "Ye social friends-- + +A slight hiss was heard, which enraged him so much that he stopped, and +looked among the audience with indignation, trying to discover what +jealous rival was endeavouring to discompose him--a silence ensued for a +minute; Vaughan then began again: + + Ye social friends of claret and of wit, + Where'er dispersed in merry groupes ye sit. + +About ten or a dozen persons then hissed pretty loudly. Vaughan stamped +on the floor, clenched his fist, struck his thigh, and cried out in a +loud voice, "damn you, ye black-guards--I wish I had you here--I'd soon +settle you." A universal hiss took place--the enraged orator was pelted +off the stage, and poor Purcell had to come forward and make an apology. +In this extemporaneous effort, his success was as splendid as in his +performance of Othello. He hoped, he said, the ladies and gentlemen +would not go for to say, for to do, for to think that he was at all to +blame--that it was all Dr. Vaughan's fault--for though he had promised +to keep sober till the play was over, he had got as drunk as David's sow +before it began. This elegant harangue produced the desired effect, and +appeased the angry passions of the gods and goddesses. A parley ensued. +Peace was made. A promise was given that Vaughan should be allowed to +proceed without hissing--and he accordingly came out and recited the +epilogue, now and again looking among the audience to discover who was +murmuring a slight hiss, which the keen ears of the speaker would not +let escape. As soon as he was done, he had the high gratification of a +universal hiss from almost every individual in the house, and was once +more pelted off in spite of all his ire and loudly vociferated threats. + + * * * * * + + +VANDERMERE. + +This performer was the most complete Harlequin that ever trod the +British stage. His agility was to the last degree astonishing. He has +leaped through a window on the stage, when pursued by the clown, full +thirteen feet high. Whenever he was in the play-bills in Dublin, he +attracted crowded houses. One night, when he had a prodigious leap to +perform, the persons behind the scenes who were to have received him in +a blanket, were not prepared in time, and of course he fell on the +boards, and was miserably bruised. He then took a most solemn oath, that +he would never leap again on the stage. Nor did he violate his oath. +Thenceforward, when he performed Harlequin, George Dawson, another +actor about his size, and very active, was attired in the party-coloured +robes. Whenever in the course of the pantomime a leap was requisite, +Vandermere passed off on one side--Dawson came in on the other, and +leaped. Then Vandermere returned and went through the Harlequinian +tricks. + + * * * * * + + +A TRUE STORY. + + In days of yore, th' historic page + Says, women were proscrib'd the stage; + And boys and men in petticoats + Play'd female parts with Stentor's notes. + The cap, the stays, the high-heel'd shoe, + The 'kerchief and the bonnet too, + With apron as the lily white, + Put all the male attire to flight-- + The culotte, waistcoat, and cravat, + The bushy wig, and gold-trimm'd hat. + Ye gods! behold! what high burlesque, + Jane Shore and Juliet thus grotesque! + + * * * * * + + King Charles one night, jocund and gay, + To Drury went, to see a play-- + Kynaston was to act a queen-- + But to his tonsor he'd not been: + He was a mirth-inspiring soul + Who lov'd to quaff the flowing bowl-- + And on his way the wight had met + A roaring bacchanalian set; + With whom he to "_the Garter_" hies, + Regardless how time slyly flies. + And while he circulates the glass, + Too rapidly the moments pass; + At length in haste the prompter sends. + And tears Kynaston from his friends; + Tho' he'd much rather there remain, + He hurries on to Drury Lane. + When in the green-room he appear'd, + He scar'd them with his bushy beard, + The barber quick his razor strops, + And lather'd well _her royal chops_: + While he the stubble mow'd away, + The audience curs'd such long delay: + They scream'd--they roar'd--they loudly bawl'd. + And with their cat-calls _sweetly_ squall'd: + Th' impatient monarch storm'd and rav'd-- + "_The queen, dread sire, is not quite shav'd_!" + Was bellow'd by the prompter loud-- + This cogent reason was allow'd + As well by king as noisy crowd. + + * * * * * + + +VOLTAIRE'S IDEA OF ORIGINALITY IN WRITING. + +A young poet having consulted him on a tragedy full of extraordinary +incidents, Voltaire pointed out to him the defects of his piece. The +writer replied, that he had purposely forsaken the beaten track of +Corneille and Racine. "So much the worse," replied Voltaire, +"originality is nothing but judicious imitation." + + * * * * * + +One day when his Irene was performing at the house of the marquis de +Villette, a celebrated actress reciting her part rather negligently, +Voltaire said to her, "Really, mademoiselle, it is unnecessary for me to +write verses of six feet, if you gulp down three of them." + + * * * * * + +On the performance of one of his tragedies, the success of which was +equivocal, the abbe Pellegrin complained loudly that Voltaire had stolen +some verses from him. "How can you, who are so rich," said the abbe, +"thus seize upon the property of another?" "What! have I stolen from +you?" replied Voltaire; "then I no longer wonder that my piece has met +with so little approbation." + + * * * * * + + +KNOW THYSELF. + +There is an anecdote related in the Memoirs of the Court of Louis XIV, +which reflects some credit on that monarch's understanding, and may be +of service to multitudes of the _bourgeoisie_ of every city in the +world, if properly digested and acted upon. + +A _negociant_, who took the lead of all the rest in Paris, was in +particular favour with the king, and without formality consulted by him, +in all that he wished to know relating to mercantile affairs. At length +the man of the counting-house, whose wealth was enormous, felt his +ambition excited, and nothing would content him but a _title_. After +many fruitless overtures, Louis at last granted his request, and never +treated him with friendly familiarity again. The trader, exceedingly +hurt at this neglect, made free one day to inquire the cause. "It is +your own fault," said the monarch, "you have degraded yourself--you were +the first as a merchant--you are the lowest as a peer." + + * * * * * + + +MADAME MARE AND FLORIO. + +This once celebrated singer has, according to German papers, retired to +an estate in Poland. During her late residence at Moscow, her companion +Florio, was involved in a very unpleasant affair. A letter, signed +Richard Florio, written in French, and filled with invectives against +the Russian government, was put into the post office at St. Petersburgh. +The person it was addressed to handed it over to the police. Florio was +arrested at Moscow, and conveyed prisoner to St. Petersburgh. Here, +however he was speedily released, his name being not Richard, but +Charles, and it appearing that he was totally ignorant of the French +language. The emperor Alexander overhearing of the circumstances, made +Florio a present of a handsome sum of money, over and above the expenses +he had been put to in his journey from Moscow. + + * * * * * + + +LEWIS'S RETIREMENT FROM THE STAGE. + +That celebrated comedian, the inimitable LEWIS, retired from the stage +in May last, to devote the residue of his days to tranquil domestic +enjoyment. His talents and prudence have enabled him to sit down with +property sufficient for all the rational purposes of life. Since his +retirement he made a transfer in the bank of five thousand pounds to +each of his three daughters, and now, say the wits of London, many a +Bassanio will doubtless say, their + + _Sunny_ locks + Hang on their temples like a golden fleece. + +It was on the night of his own benefit that Mr. Lewis took a formal and +final farewell of the public, under circumstances so honourable to him +as no actor, perhaps has ever been able to boast of. _During the +thirty-six years he had been a player, he had never once fallen under +the displeasure of his audience._ The play was "Rule a Wife and have a +Wife," in which he performed THE COPPER CAPTAIN. After the comedy, when +the curtain dropped, Mr. Lewis came forward and addressed the house in +the following words: + + "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, + + "I have the honour of addressing you for the last time. This is the + close of my theatrical life; (loud cries of no! no!) and I really + feel so overcome by taking leave forever of my friends and patrons; + that might it not be deemed disrespectful or negligent I could wish + to decline it; (Loud applause, and a cry of go on! go on!) but it + is a duty which I owe, and I will attempt to pay it, conscious I + shall meet your indulgence; for when I remind you that I have been + thirty-six years in your service, and cannot recollect to have + fallen once under your displeasure, my dramatic death cannot be met + by me without the strongest emotions of regret and gratitude. + + "I should offer my acknowledgments for innumerable acts of kindness + shown to my earliest days, and your yet kinder acceptance of, and + partiality shown to my latest efforts; all these I powerfully feel, + though I have not the words to express those feelings.----But while + this heart has a sensation it will beat with gratitude. + + "Ladies and gentlemen, with the greatest respect, and, if you will + admit the word, the sincerest affection, I bid you farewell." + +During the delivery of this address, Mr. Lewis was evidently much +affected. His voice faultered, and the tear started from his eye. The +audience were also much affected at this parting scene, and took leave +of their favourite with loud and universal acclamations. The house was +crowded to excess. + +Thus (says the London writer) every hour is seen stealing from this +stock of harmless pleasure, and our theatrical register serves only to +record our losses. What can we put in balance against the death of +Parsons, Suett, Palmer, and King, and the retirement of Mrs. Mattocks, +Miss Pope, and Mr. Lewis?--Nothing. What is there in prospect?--the +further loss of Mrs. Siddons and Mrs. Jordan. These two stars of the +first magnitude will also soon be missing in the theatrical hemisphere, +and where is he who can say that he has discovered any promise that this +light will, in our time, be repaired?--Nowhere. + + "The greatest fires are out, and glimmering night succeeds." + +On his taking a final leave of the Dublin stage, Mr. Lewis spoke the +following address: + + From ten years old till now near fifty-six, + Of all I've gained, the _origin_ I fix + _Here on this fav'rite spot_; when first I came + A trembling candidate for scenic fame, + In numbers _lisping, here_ that course began + Which, through your early aid, has smoothly ran; + Here too, returning from your sister land, + Oft have I met your smile, your lib'ral hand: + Oft as I came Hibernia still has shown + That hospitality so much her own. + But _now_ the prompter, _Time_, with warning bell, + Reminds me that I come to bid farewell! + With usual joy this visit I should pay, + But _here_, adieu is very hard to say. + Yet take my thanks for thousand favours past-- + My wishes that your welfare long may last-- + My promise that, though Time upon this face + May make his annual marks, no time can chase + Your memory here, while memory here has place. + My meaning is sincere, though plainly spoke-- + My heart, like yours, I hope, is heart of oak; + And that although the bark, through years, may fail ye, + The trunk was, is, and will be true shillaly. + + * * * * * + + +MAN AND WIFE. + +_The Comedy annexed to this number._ + +The favourable reception which this comedy met in London, will no doubt +induce the managers of America to produce it on their boards. For _this +reason_ it has been selected by the editors. + +In the general reception of this comedy on the stage, the author has +been more successful than in the judgment it has received from the +press. Of the criticisms which have appeared in the London publications, +we have seen two, which disagree with each other on its merits. That the +reception by a large audience and the opinion of a critic should differ, +is not at all surprising. In the present instance one of those critics +is at complete variance with the audience, and says "it is as dull as +the ministerial benches, and yet as patriotic as the opposition." The +editors reserve their opinion till they see it acted. + + * * * * * + + +CORRESPONDENCE. + +The conductors thank "DRAMATICUS" for his communications, to which they +will pay the proper attention. Though the series for the month of +February is complete, they have made room for four of the articles with +which he has favoured them. + + + * * * * * + * * * * + +Errors and Inconsistencies: The Mirror of Taste + + Spellings were changed only when there was an unambiguous error, + or the word occurred elsewhere with the expected spelling. + Omitted closing quotation marks are as in the original text. + [oe] indicates an oe ligature. + +_Unchanged:_ + chaunted [chanted] + cotemporary/ies [contemporary/ies] + descendent [descendant] + devest [divest] + monkies [monkeys] + mystries [mysteries] + pedler [pedlar] + surprize [surprise] + wo [woe] + wonderous [wondrous] + then "hear him, hear him," loudly rings, [final comma is unclear] + assuage their wrath or heal the wound, [comma is unclear] + +_Corrected:_ + From the circumstances of her father's situation [farther's] + Though the trepidation inseparable from such an effort [inseperable] + Each secret image that my fancy formed [Eech] + Quin decidedly gave judgment against her [decidely] + is rather a paraphrase than a translation [pharaphrase] + the season which succeeded Mrs. Merry's arrival [whith] + vainglory [occurs with and without hyphenation] + signifying--roundly nothing [signifyng] + the dog-star of favouritism [favourite-ism] + don't [occurs with and without apostrophe] + strength as to their vocal abilities [abilites] + a wedding-party in that neighbourhood [neigbourhood] + + + * * * * * + * * * * + + + + + MAN AND WIFE; + + OR, + + MORE SECRETS THAN ONE: + + A COMEDY. + + + By SAMUEL JAMES ARNOLD, Esq. + + + Published by Bradford and Inskeep, Philadelphia; + Inskeep and Bradford, New-York; and William + M'Ilhenny, Boston. + + Smith and Maxwell, Printers. + + 1810. + + + + +MAN AND WIFE; + +OR, + +MORE SECRETS THAN ONE. + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + Lord Austencourt. + Sir Rowland Austencourt. + Charles Austencourt. + Sir Willoughby Worret. + Falkner. + Abel Grouse. + Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus. + Ponder. + William. + Servant. + Countryman. + Sailor. + Game-Keeper. + Parish Officer. + Lady Worret. + Helen Worret. + Fanny. + Tiffany. + + + + +ACT I. + + +SCENE I.--_Abel Grouse's cottage. Enter_ Abel Grouse _and_ Fanny. + +_Ab. Gr._ Don't tell me of your sorrow and repentance girl. You've +broke my heart. Married hey? and privately too--and to a lord into the +bargain! So, when you can hide it no longer, you condescend to tell me. +Think you that the wealth and title of lord Austencourt can silence the +fears of a fond father's heart? Why should a lord marry a poor girl like +you in private, if his intentions were honourable? Who should restrain +him from publicly avowing his wife? + +_Fanny._ My dearest father, have but a little patience, and I'll explain +all. + +_Ab. Gr._ Who was present, besides the parson, at your wedding? + +_Fanny._ There was our neighbour, the attorney, sir, and one of his +clerks, and they were all-- + +_Ab. Gr._ My heart sinks within me--but mark me. You may remember I was +not always what now I seem to be. I yesterday received intelligence +which, but for this discovery, had shed a gleam of joy over my remaining +days. As it is, should your husband prove the villain I suspect him, +that intelligence will afford me an opportunity to resume a character in +life which shall make this monster lord tremble. The wrongs of Abel +Grouse, the poor but upright man, might have been pleaded in vain to +him, but as I shall soon appear, it shall go hard but I will make the +great man shrink before me, even in his plenitude of pride and power. + +_Fanny._ You terrify me, sir, indeed you do. + +_Ab. Gr._ And so I would. I would prepare you for the worst that may +befal us: for should this man, this lord, who calls himself your +husband-- + +_Fanny._ Dearest father, what can you mean? Who _calls_ himself my +husband! He _is_ my husband. + +_Ab. Gr._ If he _is_ your husband, how does he dare to pay his +addresses, as he now publicly does, to the daughter of sir Willoughby +Worret, our neighbour. I may be mistaken. I'm in the midst here of old +acquaintances, though in this guise they know me not. They shall soon +see me amongst them. Not a word of this, I charge you. Come girl, this +lord shall own you. If he does not, we will seek a remedy in those laws +which are at once the best guardians of our rights and the surest +avengers of our wrongs. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_A parlour in_ sir W. Worret's _house. The breakfast +prepared, urn, &c._ Sir Willoughby _reading the newspaper. He rises and +rings the bell; then pulls out his watch._ + +_Sir W._ Three quarters of an hour since breakfast was first announced +to my wife. My patience is exhausted. Oh wedlock, wedlock! why did I +ever venture again into thy holy state--of misery! Of all the taxes laid +on mankind by respect to society and the influence of example, no one is +so burthensome as that which obliges a man to submit to a thousand ills +at home, rather than be suspected of being a bad husband abroad. (_enter +servant_) Go to your lady. + +_Serv._ I told her ladyship five times before, sir Willoughby, that +breakfast was waiting. + +_Sir W._ Then tell her once more, and that will make six, and say I +earnestly request the favour she will hasten to breakfast, as while she +stays I starve. + +_Serv._ Yes, sir Willoughby, but she'll stop the longer for the message. +(_Aside going out._) [_Exit._ + +_Sir W._ My wife is the very devil. It seems that she'd be miserable if +she did not think me happy; yet her tenderness is my eternal torment; +her affection puts me in a fidget, and her fondness in a fever. + + _Enter servant._ + +_Serv._ My lady says she wont detain you a moment, sir Willoughby. +[_Exit._ + +_Sir W._ The old answer. Then she's so nervous. A nervous wife is worse +than a perpetual blister; and then, as the man says in the play, your +nervous patients are always ailing, but _never die_. Zounds! why do I +bear it? 'tis my folly, my weakness, to dread the censure of the world, +and to sacrifice every comfort of my fire side to the ideal advantage of +being esteemed a _good husband_. (_Lady Worret is heard speaking +behind_) Hark! now she begins her morning work, giving more orders in a +minute than can be executed in a month, and teasing my daughter to death +to teach her to keep her temper; yet every body congratulates me on +having so good a wife; every body envies me so excellent an economist; +every body thinks me the happiest man alive; and nobody knows what a +miserable mortal I am. + +_Lady W._ (_behind_) And harkye, William, (_entering with servant_) tell +the coachman to bring the chariot in a quarter of an hour: and William, +run with these books immediately to the rector's; and William, bring up +breakfast this moment. + +_Will._ Yes, my lady: (_aside_) Lord have mercy upon us! [_Exit._ + +_Lady W._ My dear sir Willoughby, I beg a thousand pardons; but you are +always so indulgent that you really spoil me. I'm sure you think me a +tiresome creature. + +_Sir W._ No, no, my life, not at all. I should be very ungrateful if I +didn't value you _just exactly as highly_ as you deserve. + +_Lady W._ I certainly _deserve_ a good scolding: I do indeed. I think if +you scolded me a little I should behave better. + +_Sir W._ Well, then, as you encourage me, my love, I must own that a +little more punctuality would greatly heighten the zest of your society. + +_Lady W._ And yet, sir Willoughby, you _must_ acknowledge that my time +is ever dedicated to that proper vigilance which the superintendance of +so large an establishment undoubtedly requires. + +_Sir W._ Why, true, my love; but somehow I can't help thinking, that, as +my fortune is so ample, it is quite unnecessary that you should undergo +so much fatigue: for instance, I _do_ think that the wife of a baronet +of 12,000l. a year owes it to her rank to be otherwise employed than in +hunting after the housemaid, or sacrificing her time in the storeroom in +counting candles, or weighing out soap, starch, powder-blue, and brown +sugar. + +_Lady W. (in tears)_ This is unkind, sir Willoughby, this is very +unkind. + +_Sir W._ So! as usual, here's a breeze springing up. What the devil +shall I say to sooth her? Wife, wife! you drive me mad. You first beg me +to scold you, and then are offended because I obligingly comply with +your request. + +_Lady W._ No, sir Willoughby, I am only _surprised_ that you should so +little know the value of a wife who daily degrades herself for your +advantage. + +_Sir W._ That's the very thing I complain of. You _do_ degrade yourself. +Your economy, my life, is downright parsimony: your vigilance is +suspicion; your management is meanness; and you fidget your servants +till you make them fretful, and then prudently discharge them because +they will live with you no longer. Hey! ods life, I must sooth her: for +if company comes, and finds her in this humour, my dear-bought +reputation as a good husband is lost forever. _(Enter servant with +breakfast.)_ Come, come, my dear lady Worret, let us go to breakfast, +come _(sitting down to breakfast)_ let us talk of something else. Come, +take your tea. + +_Lady W. (to servant)_ Send William to speak to me. [_Exit servant._ + +_Sir W._ Where's Helen? + +_Lady W._ I have desired her to copy a few articles into the family +receipt book before breakfast; for as her marriage will so shortly take +place, it is necessary she should complete her studies. + +_Sir W._ What, she's at work, I suppose, on the third folio volume. + +_Lady W._ The _fifth_, I believe. + +_Sir W._ Heaven defend us! I don't blame it; I don't censure it at all: +but I believe the case is _rather_ unprecedented for an heiress of +12,000l. a year to leave to posterity, in her own hand writing, five +folio volumes of recipes, for pickling, preserving, potting, and pastry, +for stewing and larding, making ketchup and sour krout, oyster patties, +barbacued pies, jellies, jams, soups, sour sauce, and sweetmeats. + +_Lady W._ Oh, sir Willoughby! if young ladies of the present day paid +more attention to such substantial acquirements, we should have better +wives and better husbands. + +_Sir W._ Why that is singularly just. + +_Lady W._ Yes, if women were taught to find amusement in domestic +duties, instead of seeking it at a circulating library, assemblies, and +balls, we should hear of fewer appeals to Doctor's Commons and the court +of King's Bench. + +_Sir W._ Why that is undeniably true _(aside)_ and now, as we have a +moment uninterrupted by family affairs-- + + _Enter_ William. + +_Lady W._ Is the carriage come? + +_Will._ No, my lady. + +_Lady W._ Have you carried the books? + +_Will._ No, my lady. + +_Lady W._ Then go and hasten the coachman. + +_Will._ No, my lady--_yes_, my lady. + +_Lady W._ And William, send up Tiffany to Miss Helen's room, and bid her +say we expect her at breakfast. + +_Will._ Miss Helen has been in the park these two hours. + +_Sir W. (Laughs aside.)_ + +_Lady W._ How! in the park these two hours? Impossible. Send Tiffany to +seek her. + +_Will._ Yes, my lady. [_Exit._ + +_Sir W._ So, as usual, risen with the lark, I suppose. + +_Lady W._ Her disobedience will break my heart. + +_Sir W._ Zounds! I shall go mad. Here's a mother-in-law going to break +her heart, because my daughter prefers a walk in the morning to writing +culinary secrets in a fat folio family receipt book! + +_Lady W._ Sir Willoughby, sir Willoughby, it is you who encourage her in +disregarding my orders. + +_Sir W._ No such thing, lady Worret, no such thing: but if the girl +likes to bring home a pair of ruddy cheeks from a morning walk, I don't +see why she is to be balked of her fancy. + +_Lady W._ Ruddy cheeks, indeed! Such robust health is becoming only in +dairy maids. + +_Sir W._ Yes, I know your taste to a T. A consumption is always a key to +your tender heart; and an interesting pallid countenance will at any +time unlock the door to your best affections: but I must be excused if I +prefer seeing my daughter with the rosy glow of health upon her cheek, +rather than the sickly imitations of art, which bloom on the surface +alone, while the fruit withers and decays beneath--but zounds! don't +speak so loud, here's somebody coming, and they'll think we are +quarrelling. _(Helen sings behind)_ So here comes our madcap. + + _Enter_ Helen. + +_Helen._ Good morning, good morning. Here, papa, look what a beautiful +posy of wild flowers I have gathered. See, the dew is still upon them. +How lovely they are! To my fancy, now, these uncultivated productions of +nature have more charms than the whole garden can equal. Why can we not +all be like these flowers, simple and inartificial, with the stamp of +nature and truth upon us? + +_Lady W._ Romantic stuff! But how comes it, Miss Helen, that my orders +are thus disobeyed? + +_Helen._ Why lord, mamma, I'll tell you how it was; but first I must eat +my breakfast; so I'll sit down and tell you all about it. _(sits down.)_ +In the first place, I rose at six, and remembering I was to copy out the +whole catalogue of sweetmeats, and as I hate all sweet things, (some +sugar, if you please, papa) I determined to take one run round the park +before I sat down to my morning's work: so taking a crust of bread and a +glass of cold water, which I love better than (some tea, if you please, +mamma) any thing in the world, out I flew like a lapwing; stopped at the +dairy; and (some cream, if you please, papa) down to the meadows and +gathered my nosegay; and then bounded home, with a heart full of gayety, +and a rare appetite for--some roll and butter, if you please, mamma. + +_Lady W._ Daughter, this levity of character is unbecoming your sex, and +even your age. You see none of this offensive flightiness in me. + +_Sir W._ Come, come, my dear lady Worret. Helen's gayety is natural. +Helen, my love, I have charming news for you. Every thing is at last +arranged between lord Austencourt and me respecting your marriage. + +_Helen._ Why now, if mamma-in-law had said this, I should have thought +she meant to make me as grave as herself. + +_Lady W._ In expectation that Helen will behave as becomes her in this +most important affair of her life, I consent to pass over her negligence +this morning in regard to my favourite receipts. + +_Helen._ I hate all receipts, sweet, bitter, and sour. + +_Lady W._ Then we will now talk of a husband. + +_Helen._ I hate all husbands, sweet, bitter, and sour. + +_Sir W._ Whoo! Helen, my love, you should not contradict your mamma. + +_Helen._ My dear papa, I don't contradict her; but I will not marry lord +Austencourt. + +_Lady W._ This is too much for my weak nerves. I leave you, sir +Willoughby, to arrange this affair, while I hasten to attend to my +domestic duties. + +_Sir W._ (_aside to lady W._) That's right; you'd better leave her to +me. I'll manage her, I warrant. Let me assist you--there--I'll soon +settle this business. (_Hands lady Worret off._) + +_Helen._ Now, my dear papa, are you really of the same opinion as her +ladyship? + +_Sir W._ Exactly. + +_Helen._ Ha! ha! lud! but that's comical. What! both think alike? + +_Sir W._ Precisely. + +_Helen._ That's very odd. I believe it's the first time you've agreed in +opinion since you were made one: but I'm quite sure you never can wish +me to marry a man I do not love. + +_Sir W._ Why no, certainly not; but you _will_ love him; indeed you +_must_. It's my wife's wish, you know, and so I wish it of course. Come, +come, in this one trifling matter you must oblige us. + +_Helen._ Well, as _you_ think it only a trifling matter, and as I think +it of importance enough to make me miserable, I'm sure _you'll_ give up +the point. + +_Sir W._ Why no, you are mistaken. To be sure I _might_ have given it +up; but my lady Worret, you know--but that's no matter. Marriage is a +duty, and tis incumbent on parents to see their children settled in that +_happy_ state. + +_Helen._ Have _you_ found that state _so happy_, sir? + +_Sir W._ Why--yes--that is--hey? happy! certainly. Doesn't every body +say so? and what every body says _must_ be true. However, that's not to +the purpose. A connexion with the family of lord Austencourt is +particularly desirable. + +_Helen._ Not to _me_, I assure you, papa. + +_Sir W._ Our estates join so charmingly to one another. + +_Helen._ But sure that's no reason _we_ should be joined to one another. + +_Sir W._ But their contiguity seems to invite a union by a marriage +between you. + +_Helen._ Then pray, papa, let the stewards marry the estates and give me +a separate maintenance. + +_Sir. W._ Helen, Helen, I see you are bent on disobedience to my lady +Worret's wishes. Zounds! you don't see me disobedient to her wishes; but +I know whereabouts your objection lies. That giddy, dissipated young +fellow, his cousin Charles, the son of sir Rowland Austencourt, has +filled your head with nonsensical notions and chimeras of happiness. +Thank Heaven, however, he's far enough off at sea. + +_Helen._ And _I_ think, sir, that because a man is fighting our battles +abroad, he ought not to be the less dear to those whom his courage +enables to live in tranquillity at home. + +_Sir W._ That's very true: (_aside_) but I have an unanswerable +objection to all you can say. Lord Austencourt is rich, and Charles is a +beggar. Besides sir Rowland himself prefers lord Austencourt. + +_Helen._ More shame for him. His partial feelings to his nephew, and +unnatural disregard of his son, have long since made me hate him. In +short, you are for money, and choose lord Austencourt: I am for love, +and prefer his poor cousin. + +_Sir W._ Then, once for all, as my lady Worret must be obeyed, I no +longer consult you on the subject, and it only remains for you to retain +the affection of an indulgent father, by complying with my will (I mean +my wife's) or to abandon my protection. [_Exit._ + +_Helen._ I won't marry him, papa, I won't, nor I won't cry, though I've +a great mind. A plague of all money, say I. Oh! what a grievous +misfortune it is to be born with 12,000l. a year? but if I can't marry +the man I like, I won't marry at all; that's determined: and every body +knows the firmness of a woman's resolution, when she resolves on +contradiction. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE III.--O'Dedimus's _office. Boxes round the shelves._ O'Dedimus +_discovered writing at an office table. A few papers and parchments, +&c._ + +_O'Dedimus._ There! I think I've expressed my meaning quite plainly, +(_reads_) "Farmer Flail, I'm instructed by lord Austencourt, your +landlord, to inform you, by word of letter, that if you can't afford to +pay the additional rent for your farm, you must turn out." I think +that's clear enough. "As to your putting in the plea of a large family, +we cannot allow that as a set off; because, when a man can't afford to +support seven children with decency, he ought not to trouble himself to +get them." I think that's plain English. + + "Your humble servant, + "CORNELIUS O'DEDIMUS, + "Attorney at law. + +"P.S. You may show this letter to his lordship, to convince him I have +done my duty; but as I don't mean one word of it, if you'll come to me +privately, I'll see what can be done for you, without his knowing any +thing of the matter," and I think _that's_ plain English. + + _Enter_ gamekeeper _with a_ countryman _in custody._ + +_O'Ded._ Well, friend, and what are you? + +_Countryman._ I be's a poacher: so my lord's gamekeeper here do say. + +_O'Ded._ A poacher! Faith that's honest. + +_Gamekeeper._ I caught him before day-light on the manor. I took away +his gun and shot his dog. + +_O'Ded._ That was bravely done. So, you must pamper your long stomach +with pheasants and partridges, and be damned to ye! Will you prefer +paying five pounds now, or three month's hard labour in the house of +correction? + +_Countrym._ Thank ye, sir, I don't prefer either, sir. + +_O'Ded._ You must go before the justice. He'll exhort you, and commit +ye. + +_Countrym._ Ees, I do know that _extortion_ and _commission_, and such +like, be the office of the justice; but I'll have a bit of law, please +punch. He ha' killed my poor dog, that I loved like one o' my own +children, and I've gotten six of 'em, Lord bless 'em. + +_O'Ded._ Six dogs! + +_Countrym._ Dogs! No, children, mun. + +_O'Ded._ Six children! Och, the fruitful sinner! + +_Countrym._ My wife be a pains-taking woman, sir. We ha' had this poor +dog from a puppy. + +_O'Ded._ Shut your ugly mouth, you babbler.--Six children! Oh! we must +make an example of this fellow. An't I the village lawyer? and an't I +the terror of all the rogues of the parish? (_aside to him._) You must +plead "not guilty." + +_Countrym._ But I tell you, if that be guilt, I _be_ guilty. + +_O'Ded._ Why, you blundering booby, if you plead guilty, how will I ever +be able to prove you innocent? + +_Countrym._ Guilty or innocent, I'll have the law of him, by gum. He has +shot my poor old mongrel, and taken away my musket; and I've lost my +day's drilling, and I'll make him pay for it. + +_O'Ded._ A mongrel and a musket! by St. Patrick, Mr. Gamekeeper, and you +have nately set your foot in it. + +_Gamekeeper._ Why, sir, its a bad affair, sir. 'Twas so dark, I couldn't +see; and when I discovered my mistake, I offered him a shilling to make +it up, and he refused it. + +_O'Ded._ (_aside to gamekeeper._) Harkye, Mr. Gamekeeper; he has one +action against ye for his dog, and another for false imprisonment. +(_aloud_) I love to see the laws enforced with justice: (_aside_) but +I'll always help a poor man to stand up against oppression. (_to +gamekeeper_) He has got you on the hip, and so go out and settle it +between yourselves, and do _you_ take care of yourself: (_to +countryman_) and do _you_ make the best of your bargain. [_Exeunt._ + +Parish officer _brings forward the_ sailor. + +_Officer._ Here's a vagrant. I found him begging without a pass. + +_O'Ded._ Take him before his worship directly. The sturdy rogue ought to +be punished. + +_Sailor._ Please your honour, I'm a sailor. + +_O'Ded._ And if you're a sailor, an't you ashamed to own it? A begging +sailor is a disgrace to an honourable profession, for which the country +has provided an asylum as glorious as it is deserved. + +_Sailor._ Why so it has: but I an't bound for Greenwich yet. + +_O'Ded._ (_aside to him._) Why, you're disabled, I see. + +_Sailor._ Disabled! What for? Why I've only lost _one_ arm yet. Bless +ye, I'm no beggar. I was going to see my Nancy, thirty miles further on +the road, and meeting some old messmates, we had a cann o' grog +together. One cann brought on another, and then we got drinking the +king's health, and the navy, and then _this_ admiral, and then _t'other_ +admiral, till at last we had so many gallant heroes to drink, that we +were all drunk afore we came to the reckoning; so, your honour, as my +messmates had none of the rhino, I paid all; and then, you know, they +had a long journey upwards, and no biscuit aboard; so I lent one a +little, and another a little, till at last I found I had no coin left in +my locker for myself, except a cracked teaster that Nancy gave me; and I +couldn't spend that, you know, though I had been starving. + +_O'Ded._ And so you begged! + +_Sailor._ Begged! no. I just axed for a bit of bread and a mug o' water. +That's no more than one Christian ought to give another, and if you call +that begging, why I beg to differ in opinion. + +_O'Ded._ According to the act you are a vagrant, and the justice may +commit ye; (_aside to the officer_) lookye, Mr. Officer--you're in the +wrong box here. Can't you see plain enough, by his having lost an arm, +that he earns a livelihood by the work of his hands; so lest he should +be riotous for being detained, let me advise you to be off. I'll send +him off after you with a flea in his ear--the other way. + +_Officer._ Thank ye, sir, thank ye. I'm much obliged to you for your +advice, sir, and shall take it, and so my service to you. [_Exit._ + +_O'Ded._ Take this my honest lad; (_gives money_) say nothing about it, +and give my service to Nancy. + +_Sailor._ Why now, heaven bless you honour forever; and if ever you're +in distress, and I'm within sight of signals, why hang out your blue +lights; and if I don't bear down to your assistance, may my gun be +primed with damp powder the first time we fire a broadside at the enemy. +[_Exit._ + +O'Dedimus _rings a bell._ + +_O'Ded._ Ponder! Now will this fellow be thinking and thinking, till he +quite forgets what he's doing. Ponder, I say! (_enter Ponder._) Here, +Ponder, take this letter to farmer Flail's, and if you see Mrs. Muddle, +his neighbour, give my love and duty to her. + +_Ponder._ Yes, yes, sir; but at that moment, sir, I was immersed in +thought, if I may be allowed the expression; I was thinking of the vast +difference between love and law, and yet how neatly you've spliced them +together in your last instructions to your humble servant, Peter Ponder, +clerk.--Umph! + +_O'Ded._ Umph! is that your manners, you bear-garden? Will I never be +able to larn you to behave yourself? Study _me_, and talk like a +gentleman, and be damn'd to ye. + +_Ponder._ I study the law; I can't talk it. + +_O'Ded._ Cant you? Then you'll never do. If your tongue don't run faster +than your client's, how will you ever be able to bother him, you booby? + +_Ponder._ I'll draw out his case; he shall read, and he'll bother +himself. + +_O'Ded._ You've a notion. Mind my instructions, and I don't despair of +seeing you at the bar one day. Was that copy of a writ sarved yesterday +upon Garble, the tailor? + +_Ponder._ Aye. + +_O'Ded._ And sarve him right too. That's a big rogue, that runs in debt +wid his eyes open, and though he has property, refuses to pay. Is he +safe? + +_Ponder._ He was bailed by Swash the brewer. + +_O'Ded._ And was the other sarved on Shuttle, the weaver? + +_Ponder._ Aye. + +_O'Ded._ Who bailed him? + +_Ponder._ Nobody. He's gone to jail. + +_O'Ded._ Gone to jail! Why _his_ poverty is owing to misfortune. He +can't pay. Well, that's not our affair. The law must have its course. + +_Ponder._ So Shuttle said to his wife, as she hung crying on his +shoulder. + +_O'Ded._ That's it; he's a sensible man; and that's more than his wife +is. We've nothing to do with women's tears. + +_Ponder._ Not a bit. So they walked him off to jail in a jiffey, if I +may be allowed the expression. + +_O'Ded._ To be sure, and that was right. They did their duty: though for +sartin, if a poor man can't pay his debts when he's at liberty, he wont +be much nearer the mark when he's shut up in idleness in a prison. + +_Ponder._ No. + +_O'Ded._ And when he that sent them there comes to make up his last +account, 'tis my belief that he wont be able to show cause why a bill +shouldn't be filed against him for barbarity. Are the writings all ready +for sir Rowland? + +_Ponder._ All ready. Shall I now go to farmer Flail's with the letter? + +_O'Ded._ Aye, and if you see Shuttle's wife in your way, give my service +to her; and d'ye hear, as you're a small talker, don't let the little +you say be so cursed crabbed; and if a few kind words of comfort should +find their way from your heart to your tongue, don't shut your ugly +mouth, and keep them within your teeth. You may tell her that if she can +find any body to stand up for her husband, I shan't be over nice about +the sufficiency of the bail. Get you gone. + +_Ponder_ I shall. Let me see! farmer Flail--Mrs. Muddle, his +neighbour--Shuttle's wife--and a whole string of messages and +memorandums--here's business enough to bother the brains of any +ordinary man! You are pleased to say, sir, that I am too much addicted +to thinking--I think _not_. [_Exit Ponder._ + +_O'Ded._ By my soul, if an attorney wasn't sometimes a bit of a rogue, +he'd never be able to earn an honest livelihood. Oh Mr. O'Dedimus! why +have you so little when your heart could distribute so much! + + Sir Rowland, _without_. + +_Sir Row._ Mr. O'Dedimus--within there! + +_O'Ded._ Yes, I'm within there. + + _Enter_ sir Rowland. + +_Sir Row._ Where are these papers? I thought the law's delay was only +felt by those who could not pay for its expedition. + +_O'Ded._ The law, sir Rowland, is a good horse, and his pace is slow and +sure; but he goes no faster because you goad him with a golden spur; but +every thing is prepared, sir; and now, sir Rowland, I have an ugly sort +of an awkward affair to mention to you. + +_Sir Row._ Does it concern _me_? + +_O'Ded._ You know, sir Rowland, at the death of my worthy friend, the +late lord Austencourt, you were left sole executor and guardian to his +son, the present lord, then an infant of three years of age. + +_Sir Row._ What does this lead to? (_starting_) + +_O'Ded._ With a disinterested view to benefit the estate of the minor, +who came of age the other day, you some time ago embarked a capital of +14,000l. in a great undertaking. + +_Sir Row._ Proceed. + +_O'Ded._ I have this morning received a letter from the agent, stating +the whole concern to have failed, the partners to be bankrupts, and the +property consigned to assignees not to promise, as a final dividend, +more than one shilling in the pound. This letter will explain the rest. + +_Sir Row._ How! I was not prepared for this--What's to be done? + +_O'Ded._ When one loses a sum of money that isn't one's own, there's but +one thing to be done. + +_Sir Row._ And what is that? + +_O'Ded._ To pay it back again. + +_Sir Row._ You know that to be impossible, utterly impossible. + +_O'Ded._ Then, sir Rowland, take the word of _Cornelius O'Dedimus_, +attorney at law, his lordship will rigidly exact the money, to the +uttermost farthing. + +_Sir Row._ You are fond, sir, of throwing out these hints to his +disadvantage. + +_O'Ded._ I am bold to speak it--I am possessed of a secret, sir Rowland, +in regard to his lordship. + +_Sir Row._ (_alarmed._) What is it you mean? + +_O'Ded._ I thought I told you it was a _secret_. + +_Sir Row._ But to me you should have no secrets that regard my family. + +_O'Ded._ With submission, sir Rowland, his lordship is my client, as +well as yourself, and I have learned from the practice of the courts, +that an attorney who blabs in his business has soon no suit to his back. + +_Sir Row._ But this affair, perhaps, involves my deepest interest--my +character--my all is at stake. + +_O'Ded._ Have done wid your pumping now--d'ye think I am a basket full +of cinders, that I'm to be sifted after this fashion? + +_Sir Row._ Answer but this--does it relate to Charles, my son? + +_O'Ded._ Sartinly, the young gentleman has a small bit of interest in +the question. + +_Sir Row._ One thing more. Does it allude to a transaction which +happened some years ago--am I a principal concerned in it? + +_O'Ded._ Devil a ha'porth--it happened only six months past. + +_Sir R._ Enough--I breathe again. + +_O'Ded._ I'm glad of that, for may-be you'll now let me breathe to tell +you that as I know lord Austencourt's private character better than you +do, my life to a bundle of parchment, he'll even arrest ye for the +money. + +_Sir R._ Impossible, he cannot be such a villain! + +_Abel Grouse._ (_without_) What ho! is the lawyer within? + +_Sir Row._ Who interrupts us? + +_O'Ded._ 'Tis the strange man that lives on the common--his name is Abel +Grouse--he's coming up. + +_Sir R._ I'll wait till you dismiss him, for I cannot encounter any one +at present. Misfortunes crowd upon me; and one act of guilt has drawn +the vengeance of Heaven on my head, and will pursue me to the grave. +[_Exit to an inner room._ + +_O'Ded._ Och! if a small gale of adversity blows up such a storm as +this, we shall have a pretty hurricane by and by, when you larn a little +more of your hopeful nephew, and see his new matrimonial scheme fall to +the ground, like buttermilk through a sieve. + + _Enter_ Abel Grouse. + +_Abel Grouse._ Now, sir, you are jackall, as I take it, to lord +Austencourt. + +_O'Ded._ I am his man of business, sure enough; but didn't hear before +of my promotion to the office you mention. + +_Ab. Gr._ You are possessed of all his secret deeds. + +_O'Ded._ That's a small mistake--I have but one of them, and that's the +deed of settlement on Miss Helen Worret, spinster. + +_Ab. Gr._ Leave your quibbling, sir, and speak plump to the point--if +habit hasn't hardened your heart, and given a system to your knavery, +answer me this: lord Austencourt has privately married my daughter? + +_O'Ded._ Hush! + +_Ab. Gr._ You were a witness. + +_O'Ded._ Has any body told you that thing? + +_Ab. Gr._ Will you deny it? + +_O'Ded._ Will you take a friend's advice? + +_Ab. Gr._ I didn't come for advice. I came to know if you will confess +the fact, or whether you are villain enough to conceal it. + +_O'Ded._ Have done wid your bawling--sir Rowland's in the next room! + +_Ab. Gr._ Is he? then sir Rowland shall hear me--Sir Rowland!--he shall +see my daughter righted--Ho there! Sir Rowland! + +_O'Ded._ (_aside_) Here'll be a devil of a dust kicked up presently +about the ears of Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law! + + _Enter_ Sir Rowland. + +_Sir Row._ Who calls me? + +_Ab. Gr._ 'Twas I! + +_Sir Row._ What is it you want, friend? + +_Ab. Gr._ Justice! + +_Sir Row._ Justice! then you had better apply there, (_pointing to +O'Dedimus._) + +_Ab. Gr._ That's a mistake--he deals only in _law_--'tis to you that I +appeal--Your nephew, lord Austencourt, is about to marry the daughter of +sir Willoughby Worret. + +_Sir Row._ He is. + +_Ab. Gr._ Never! I will save him the guilt of that crime at least! + +_Sir Row._ You are mysterious, sir. + +_Ab. Gr._ Perhaps I am. Briefly, your nephew is privately married to my +daughter--this man was present at their union--will you see justice done +me, and make him honourably proclaim his wife? + +_Sir Row._ Your tale is incredible, sir--it is sufficient, however, to +demand attention, and I warn you, lest by your folly you rouse an +indignation that may crush you. + +_Ab. Gr._ Hear me, proud man, while I warn _you_! My daughter is the +lawful wife of lord Austencourt--double is the wo to me that she _is_ +his wife: but as it is so, he shall publicly acknowledge her--to you I +look for justice and redress--see to it, sir, or I shall speedily appear +in a new character, with my wrongs in my hand, to hurl destruction on +you. [_Exit._ + +_Sir Row._ What does the fellow mean? + +_O'Ded._ That's just what I'm thinking-- + +_Sir Row._ _You_, he said, was privy to their marriage. + +_O'Ded._ Bless ye, the man's mad! + +_Sir Row._ Ha! you said you had a secret respecting my nephew. + +_O'Ded._ Sir, if you go on so, you'll bother me! + +_Sir Row._ The fellow must be silenced--can you not contrive some means +to rid us of his insolence? + +_O'Ded._ Sir, I shall do my duty, as my duty should be done, by +Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law. + +_Sir Row._ My nephew must not hear of this accursed loss--be secret on +that head, I charge you! but in regard to this man's bold assertion, I +must consult him instantly--haste and follow me to his house. + +_O'Ded._ Take me wid ye, sir; for this is such a dirty business, that +I'll never be able to go through it unless you show me the way. +[_Exeunt._ + +_End of act I._ + + + + +ACT II. + + +SCENE I.--_A library at_ Sir Willoughby's. _Enter_ Helen _with_ Servant. + +_Helen._ Lord Austencourt--true--this is his hour for persecuting +me--very well, desire lord Austencourt to come in. (_exit servant_) I +won't marry. They all say I shall. Some girls, now, would sit down and +sigh, and moan, as if that would mend the matter--that will never suit +me! Some indeed would run away with the man they liked better--but then +the only man I ever liked well enough to marry--is--I believe, run away +from _me_. Well! that won't do!--so I'll e'en laugh it off as well as I +can; and though I wont marry his lordship, I'll teaze him as heartily as +if I had been his wife these twenty years. + + _Enter_ lord Austencourt. + +_Lord A._ Helen! too lovely Helen! once more behold before you to +supplicate for your love and pity, the man whom the world calls proud, +but whom your beauty alone has humbled. + +_Helen._ They say, my lord, that pride always has a fall some time or +other. I hope the fall of your lordship's hasn't hurt you. + +_Lord A._ Is it possible that the amiable Helen, so famed for gentleness +and goodness, can see the victim of her charms thus dejected stand +before her. + +_Helen._ Certainly not, my lord--so pray sit down. + +_Lord A._ Will you never be for one moment serious? + +_Helen._ Oh, yes, my lord! I am never otherwise when _I think_ of your +lordship's proposals--but when you are making love and fine speeches to +me in person, 'tis with amazing difficulty I can help laughing. + +_Lord A._ Insolent vixin. (_aside_) I had indulged a hope, madam, that +the generosity and disinterested love I have evinced-- + +_Helen._ Why as to your lordship's generosity in condescending to marry +a poor solitary spinster, I am certainly most duly grateful--and no one +can possibly doubt your disinterestedness, who knows I am only heiress +to 12,000l. a year--a fortune which, as I take it, nearly doubles the +whole of your lordship's rent roll! + +_Lord A._ Really, madam, if I am suspected of any mercenary motives, the +liberal settlements which are now ready for your perusal, must +immediately remove any such suspicion. + +_Helen._ Oh, my lord, you certainly mistake me--only as my papa +observes, our estates _do join so charmingly to one another_! + +_Lord A._ Yes:--that circumstance is certainly advantageous to both +parties (_exultingly._) + +_Helen._ Certainly!--only, as mine is the biggest, perhaps yours would +be the greatest gainer by the bargain. + +_Lord A._ My dear madam, a title and the advantages of elevation in rank +amply compensate the sacrifice on your part. + +_Helen._ Why, as to a title, my lord (as Mr. O'Dedimus, your attorney, +observes) there's no title in my mind better than a good title to a fine +estate--and I see plainly, that although your lordship is a peer of the +realm--you think this title of mine no mean companion for your own. + +_Lord A._ Nay, madam--believe me--I protest--I assure you--solemnly, +that those considerations have very little--indeed _no_ influence _at +all_ with me. + +_Helen._ Oh, no!--only it is natural that you should feel (as papa again +observes) that the _contiguity_ of these estates seem to _invite_ a +union by a marriage between us. + +_Lord A._ And if you admit that fact, why do you decline the invitation? + +_Helen._ Why, one doesn't accept _every_ invitation that's offered, you +know--one sometimes has very disagreeable ones; and then one presents +compliments, and is extremely sorry that a prior engagement obliges us +to decline the honour. + +_Lord A._ (_aside_) Confound the satirical huzzy--But should not the +wishes of your parents have some weight in the scale? + +_Helen._ Why, so they have; _their_ wishes are in one scale, and _mine_ +are in the other; do all I can, I can't make mine weigh most, and so the +beam remains balanced. + +_Lord A._ I should be sorry to make theirs preponderate, by calling in +their authority as auxiliaries to their wishes. + +_Helen._ Authority!--Ho! what, you think to marry me by force! do ye my +lord? + +_Lord A._ _They_ are resolute, and if _you_ continue obstinate-- + +_Helen._ I dare say your lordship's education hasn't precluded your +knowledge of a very true, though _rather_ vulgar proverb, "one man may +lead a horse to the water, but twenty can't make him drink." + +_Lord A._ The allusion may be classical, madam, though certainly it is +not very elegant, nor has it even the advantage of being applicable to +the point in question. However I do not despair to see this resolution +changed. In the mean time, I did not think it in your nature to treat +any man who loves you with cruelty and scorn. + +_Helen._ Then why don't you desist, my lord? If you'd take an answer, +you had a civil one: but if you will follow and teaze one, like a sturdy +beggar in the street, you must expect at last a reproof for your +impertinence. + +_Lord A._ Yet even in their case perseverance often obtains what was +denied to poverty. + +_Helen._ Yes, possibly, from the feeble or the vain; but genuine +Charity, and her sister, Love, act only from their own generous impulse, +and scorn intimidation. + + _Enter_ Tiffany. + +_Tiffany._ Are you alone, madam? + +_Helen._ No; I was only wishing to be so. + +_Tiff._ A young woman is without, inquiring for sir Willoughby, ma'am; I +thought he had been here. + +_Helen._ Do you know her? + +_Tiff._ Yes, ma'am; 'tis Fanny, the daughter of the odd man that lives +on the common. + +_Helen._ I'll see her myself--desire her to walk up. [_Exit Tiffany._ + +_Lord A._ (_seems uneasy_) Indeed! what brings her here? + +_Helen._ Why, what can be the matter now? your lordship seems quite +melancholy on a sudden. + +_Lord A._ I, madam! oh no!--or if I am--'tis merely a head ach, or some +such cause, or perhaps owing to the influence of the weather. + +_Helen._ Your lordship is a very susceptible barometer--when you entered +this room your countenance was _set fair_; but now I see the index +points to _stormy_. + +_Lord A._ Madam, you have company, or business--a good morning to you. + +_Helen._ Stay, stay, my lord. + +_Lord A._ Excuse me at present, I have an important affair--another +time. + +_Helen._ Surely, my lord, the arrival of this innocent girl does not +drive you away! + +_Lord A._ Bless me, madam, what an idea! certainly not; but I have just +recollected an engagement of consequence--some other time--Madam, your +most obedient-- [_Exit._ + + _Enter_ Fanny. + +_Fan._ I beg pardon, madam, I'm fearful I intrude; but I inquired for +sir Willoughby, and they showed me to this room. I wished to speak with +him on particular business--your servant, madam. + +_Hel._ Pray stay, my good girl--I rejoice in this opportunity of +becoming acquainted with you--the character I have heard of you has +excited an affectionate interest--you must allow me to become your +friend. + +_Fanny._ Indeed, indeed, madam, I am in want of friends; but you can +never be one of them. + +_Helen._ No! Why so? + +_Fan._ You, madam! Oh no--you are the only enemy I ever had. + +_Hel._ Enemy! This is very extraordinary! I have scarce ever seen you +before--Assuredly I never injured you. + +_Fan._ Heaven forbid I should wish any one to injure you as deeply. + +_Hel._ I cannot understand you--pray explain yourself. + +_Fan._ That's impossible, madam--my lord would never forgive me. + +_Hel._ Your lord! Let me entreat you to explain your meaning. + +_Fan._ I cannot, madam; I came hither on business of importance, and no +trifling business should have brought me to a house inhabited by one who +is the cause of all my wretchedness. + +_Hel._ This is a very extraordinary affair! There is a mixture of +cultivation and simplicity in your manner that affects me strongly--I +see, my poor girl, you are distressed; and though what you have said +leaves on my mind a painful suspicion-- + +_Fan._ Oh heavens, madam! stay, I beseech you!--I am not what you think +me, indeed I am not--I must not, for a moment, let you think of me so +injuriously: yet I have promised secrecy! but sure no promise can be +binding, when to keep it we must sacrifice all that is valuable in +life--hear me, then madam--the struggle is violent; but I owe it to +myself to acknowledge all. + +_Hel._ No, no, my dear girl! I now see what it would cost you to reveal +your secret, and I will not listen to it; rest assured, I have no longer +a thought to your disadvantage: curiosity gives place to interest: for +though 'tis cruelty to inflict a wound, 'tis still more deliberate +barbarity to probe when we cannot hope to heal it. (_going._) + +_Fan._ Stay, madam, stay--your generosity overpowers me! oh madam! you +know not how wretched I am. + +_Hel._ What is it affects you thus?--come, if your story is of a nature +that may be revealed, you are sure of sympathy. + +_Fan._ I never should have doubted; but my father has alarmed me +sadly--he says my lord Austencourt is certainly on the point of marriage +with you. + +_Hel._ And how, my dear girl, if it were so, could that affect you? +Come, you must be explicit. + +_Fan._ Affect me! merciful Heaven! can I see him wed another? He is my +husband by every tie sacred and human. + +_Hel._ Suffering, but too credulous girl! have you then trusted to his +vows? + +_Fan._ How, madam! was I to blame, loving as I did, to trust in vows so +solemn? could I suppose he would dare to break them, because our +marriage was performed in secret? + +_Hel._ Your marriage, child! Good Heavens, you amaze me! but here we may +be interrupted--this way with me. If this indeed be so all may be well +again: for though he may be dead to _feeling_ be assured he is alive to +_fear_: the man who once descends to be a villain is generally observed +to be at heart a coward. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE II.--_The door of a country inn._--Ponder _sitting on a +portmanteau._ + +_Ponder._ I've heard that intense thinking has driven some philosophers +mad!--now if this should happen to _me_, 'twill never be the fate of my +young patron, Mr. Charles Austencourt, whom I have suddenly met on his +sudden return from sea, and who never thinks at all. Poor gentleman, he +little thinks what-- + + _Enter_ Charles Austencourt. + +_Charles._ Not gone yet? How comes it you are not on the road to my +father? Is the fellow deaf or dumb. Ponder! are ye asleep? + +_Pon._ I'm thinking, whether I am or not. + +_Charles._ And what wise scheme now occupies your thoughts? + +_Pon._ Sir, I confess the subject is beneath me (_pointing to the +portmanteau._) + +_Char._ The weight of the portmanteau, I suppose, alarms you. + +_Pon._ If that was my heaviest misfortune, sir, I could carry double +with all my heart. No, sir, I was thinking that as your father, sir +Rowland, sent you on a cruize, for some cause best known to himself; and +as you have thought proper to return for some cause best known to +_yourself_, the chances of war, if I may be allowed the expression, are, +that the contents of that trunk will be your only inheritance, or, in +other words, that your father will cut you off with a shilling--and now +I'm thinking-- + +_Char._ No doubt--thinking takes up so many of your waking hours, that +you seldom find time for _doing_. And so you have, since my departure, +turned your thinking faculties to the law. + +_Pon._ Yes, sir; when you gave me notice to quit, I found it so hard to +live honestly, that lest the law should take to me, I took to the law: +and so articled my self to Mr. O'Dedimus, the attorney in our town: but +there is a thought unconnected with law that has occupied my head every +moment since we met. + +_Char._ Pr'ythee dismiss your thought, and get your legs in motion. + +_Pon._ Then, sir, I have really been thinking, ever since I saw you, +that you are a little--(_going off to a distance_) a little _odd_ +hereabouts, sir; (_pointing to his head_) a little damned mad, if I may +be allowed the expression! + +_Char._ Ha! ha! very probably. My sudden return, without a motive, as +you suppose, has put that wise notion in your head. + +_Pon._ Without a motive! No, sir, I believe I know tolerably well the +motive--the old story, sir, ha! love! + +_Char._ Love! And pray, sirrah, how do you dare to presume to suppose, +that I--that I can be guilty of such a folly--I should be glad to know +how you dare venture to think that I---- + +_Pon._ Lord bless you, sir, I discovered it before you left the country. + +_Char._ Indeed! and by what symptoms, pray? + +_Pon._ The old symptoms, sir--in the first place, frequent fits of my +complaint. + +_Char._ _Your_ complaint? + +_Pon._ Yes, thinking, long reveries, sudden starts, sentimental sighs, +fits of unobserving absence, fidgets and fevers, orders and counter +orders, loss of memory, loss of appetite, loss of rest, and loss of your +senses, if I may be allowed the expression. + +_Char._ No, sir, you may not be allowed the expression--'tis +impertinent, 'tis false. I never was unobserving or absent; I never had +the fidgets; I never once mentioned the name of my adored Helen; and, +heigho! I never sighed for her in my life! + +_Pon._ Nor I, sir; though I've been married these three years, I never +once sighed for my dear wife in all that time--heigho! + +_Char._ I mustn't be angry with the fellow. Why, I took you for an +unobserving blockhead, or I would never have trusted you so near me. + +_Pon._ Then, sir, you _mis_-took me. I fancy it was in one of your most +decided unobserving fits that you took _me_ for a blockhead. + +_Char._ Well, sir; I see you have discovered my secret. Act wisely, and +it may be of service to you. + +_Pon._ Sir, I haven't studied the law for nothing. I'm no fool, if I may +be allowed the expression. + +_Char._ I begin to suspect you have penetration enough to be useful to +me. + +_Pon._ And craving your pardon, sir, I begin to suspect your want of +that faculty, from your not having found out that before. + +_Char._ I will now trust you, although once my servant, with the state +of my heart. + +_Pon._ Sir, that's very kind of you, to trust your humble servant with a +_secret_ he had himself discovered ten months ago. + +_Char._ Keep it with honour and prudence. + +_Pon._ Sir, I _have_ kept it. Nobody knows of it, that I know of, except +a few of your friends, many of your enemies, most travelling strangers, +and all your neighbours. + +_Char._ Why, zounds! you don't mean to say that any body, except +yourself, suspects me to be in love. + +_Pon._ Suspects! no, sir; _suspicion_ is out of the question; it is +taken as a proved fact in all society, a bill found by every grand jury +in the county. + +_Char._ The devil it is! Zounds! I shall never be able to show my +face--this will never do--my boasted disdain of ever bowing to the power +of love--how ridiculous will it now render me--while the mystery and +sacred secrecy of this attachment constituted the chief delight it gave +to the refinement of my feelings--O! I'll off to sea again--I won't stay +here--order a post-chaise--no--yes--a chaise and four, d'ye hear? + +_Pon._ Yes, sir; but I'm thinking-- + +_Char._ What? + +_Pon._ That it is possible you may alter your mind. + +_Char._ No such thing, sir; I'll set off this moment; order the chaise, +I say. + +_Pon._ Think of it again, sir. + +_Char._ Will you obey my orders, or not? + +_Pon._ I think I will. (_aside_) Poor gentleman! now could I blow him up +into a blaze in a minute, by telling him that his mistress is just on +the point of marriage with his cousin, but though they say "ill news +travels apace," they shall never say that I rode postillion on the +occasion. [_Exit into inn._ + +_Char._ Here's a discovery! all my delicate management destroyed! known +all over the country! I'm off! and yet to have travelled so far, and not +to have one glimpse of her! but then to be pointed at as a poor devil in +love, a silly inconsistent boaster! no, that wont do--but then I may see +her--yes, I'll see her once--just once--for three minutes, or three +minutes and a half at most--no longer positively--Ponder, Ponder! +(_enter Ponder_) Ponder, I say-- + +_Pon._ I wish you wouldn't interrupt me, for I'm thinking-- + +_Char._ Damn your thinking, sir! + +_Pon._ I was only thinking that you may have altered your mind already. + +_Char._ I have not altered my mind: but since I _am_ here, I should be +wanting in duty not to pay my respects to my father; so march on with +the trunk, sir. + +_Pon._ Yes, sir: but if that's all you want to do, sir, you may spare +yourself the trouble of going further, for, most fortunately, here he +comes; and your noble cousin, lord Austencourt, with him-- + +_Char._ The devil! + +_Pon._ Yes, sir; the devil, and his uncle, your father, if I may be +allowed the expression. [_Exit._ + + _Enter_ sir Rowland _and_ lord Austencourt. + +_Char._ My dear father, I am heartily glad to see you-- + +_Sir R._ How is this, Charles! returned thus unexpectedly? + +_Char._ Unexpected pleasure, they say, sir, is always most welcome--I +hope you find it so. + +_Sir R._ This conduct, youngster, requires explanation. + +_Char._ Sir, I have it ready at my tongue's end--My lord, I ask your +pardon--I'm glad to see you too. + +_Lord A._ I wish, sir, I could return the compliment; but this +extraordinary conduct-- + +_Char._ No apologies, my lord, for your civil speech--you might easily +have returned the compliment in the same words, and, believe me, with as +much sincerity as it was offered. + +_Sir R._ This is no time for dissention, sir-- + +_Lord A._ My cousin forgets, sir Rowland, that although united by ties +of consanguinity, _birth_ and _fortune_ have placed me in a station +which commands some respect. + +_Char._ No, my lord, for I also am in a station where I _too_ command +respect, where I respect and am respected. I therefore well know what is +due to my superiors; and this duty I never forget, till those above me +forget what they owe to themselves. + +_Lord A._ I am not aware, good cousin, that I have ever yet forfeited my +title to the respect I claim. + +_Char._ You have, my lord: for high rank forfeits every claim to +distinction when it exacts submissive humility from those beneath it, +while at the same time it refuses a graceful condescension in exchange. + +_Sir R._ Charles, Charles, these sentiments but ill become the dependent +state in which Fortune has placed you. + +_Char._ Dependent state! Dependent upon whom! What, on _him_! my titled, +tawdry cousin there? What are his pretensions, that he shall presume to +brand me as a poor dependent!--What are _his_ claims to independence? +How does he spend the income Fortune has allotted to him? Does he +rejoice to revive in the mansion of his ancestors the spirit of old +English hospitality? Do the eyes of aged tenants twinkle with joy when +they hope his coming? do the poor bless his arrival? I say no. He is the +lord of land--and is also, what he seems still more proud of, a lord of +parliament; but I will front him in both capacities, and frankly tell +him, that in the first he is a burthen to his own estate, and not a +benefactor; and in the second, a peer but not a prop. + +_Sir R._ Charles, how dare you thus persevere! You cannot deny, rash and +foolish boy, that you are in a dependant state. Your very profession +proves it. + +_Char._ O, father, spare that insult! The profession I glory to belong +to, is above dependence--yes! while we live and fight, we feel, and +gratefully acknowledge, that our pay depends on our king and country, +and therefore you _may_ style us dependant; but in the hour of battle we +wish for nothing more than to show that the glory and safety of the +nation _depends on us_; and by our death or blood to repay all previous +obligation. + +_Sir R._ Dismiss this subject. + +_Char._ With all my heart--My cousin was the subject, and he's a +fatiguing one. + +_Sir R._ Though you do not love your cousin, you ought to pay that +deference to his rank which you refuse to his person. + +_Char._ Sir, I do; like a fine mansion in the hands of a bad inhabitant. +I admire the building, but despise the tenant. + +_Lord A._ This insolence is intolerable, and will not be forgotten. You +may find, hot sir, that Where my friendship is despised, my resentment +may be feared. I well know the latent motives for this insult. It is the +language of a losing gamester, and is treated with deserved contempt by +a _successful rival_. [_Exit._ + +_Char._ Ha! a _successful rival_! Is this possible? + +_Sir. R._ It is. The treaty of marriage between lord Austencourt and +Helen is this morning concluded. + +_Char._ And does she consent? + +_Sir R._ There can be little doubt of that. + +_Char._ But _little_ doubt! False Helen! Come, come, I know my Helen +better. + +_Sir R._ I repeat my words, sir. It is not the curse of every parent to +have a disobedient child. + +_Char._ By Heaven, sir, that reflection cuts me to the heart. You have +ever found in me the obedience, nay more, the affection of a son, till +circumstance on circumstance convinced me, I no longer possessed the +affection of a father. + +_Sir R._ Charles, we are too warm. I feel that I have in some degree +merited your severe reproof--give me your hand, and to convince you that +you undervalue my feelings towards you, I will now confess that I have +been employed during your absence, in planning an arrangement which will +place you above the malice of fortune--you know our neighbour, Mrs. +Richland-- + +_Char._ What, the gay widow with a fat jointure? What of her? + +_Sir R._ She will make not only a rich, but a good wife. I know she +likes you--I'm sure of it. + +_Char._ Likes _me_! + +_Sir R._ I am convinced she does. + +_Char._ But--what the devil--she doesn't mean to marry me surely! + +_Sir R._ That will, I am convinced, depend upon yourself. + +_Char._ Will it? then by the Lord, though I sincerely esteem her, I +shall make my bow, and decline the honour at once. No, sir; the heart is +_my_ aim, and all the gold I care for in the hand that gives it, is the +modest ring that encompasses the finger, and marks that hand as mine +forever. + +_Sir R._ Thus I see another of my prospects blighted! Undutiful, +degenerate boy! your folly and obstinacy will punish themselves. Answer +me not; think of the proposal I have made you; obey your father's will, +or forever I renounce you! [_Exit._ + +_Char._ Whoo! here's a whirligig! I've drifted on to a pleasant lee +shore here! Helen betrothed to another! Impossible.--Oh Helen! Helen! +Zounds! I'm going to make a soliloquy! this will never do! no, I'll see +Helen; upbraid her falsehood; drop one tear to her memory; regain my +frigate; seek the enemy; fight like a true sailor; die like a Briton; +and leave my character and memory to my friends--and my blessing and +forgiveness to Helen. [_Exit._ + +_End of act II._ + + + + +ACT III. + + +SCENE I.--_O'Dedimus's office. Ponder discovered._ + +_Ponder._ So! having executed my commission, let me _think_ a little +(_sits down,_) for certain I and my master are two precious rogues +(_pauses._) I wonder whether or not we shall be discovered, as +assistants in this sham marriage (_pauses._) If we _are_, we shall be +either transported or hanged, I wonder which:--My lord's bribe, however, +was convenient; and in all cases of _conscience versus convenience_, +'tis the general rule of practice to nonsuit the plaintiff. Ha! who's +here? The poor girl herself. (_Enter Fanny._) I pity her; but I've been +bribed; so I must be honest. + +_Fanny._ Oh, sir! I'm in sad distress--my father has discovered my +intercourse with lord Austencourt, and says, he is sure my lord means to +deny our marriage; but I have told him, as you and your master were +present, I am sure you will both be ready to prove it, should my lord +act so basely. + +_Pon._ I must mind my hits here, or shall get myself into a confounded +scrape--ready to do what, did you say, ma'am, to prove your marriage? + +_Fan._ Yes, as you both were present. + +_Pon._ Present! me! Lord bless me, what is it you mean? Marriage! prove! +me! present! + +_Fan._ Why do you hesitate? come, come, you do but jest with me--you +cannot have forgotten it-- + +_Pon._ Hey? why no! but I can't say I remember it-- + +_Fan._ Sure, sure, you cannot have the barbarity to deny that you were a +witness to the ceremony! + +_Pon._ I may be mistaken--I've a remarkably short memory; but to the +best of my recollection I certainly-- + +_Fan._ Ay, you recollect it-- + +_Pon._ I certainly _never was_ present-- + +_Fan._ Cruel! you were--indeed, indeed you were. + +_Pon._ But at one wedding in my life. + +_Fan._ And that was mine-- + +_Pon._ No, that was mine. + +_Fan._ Merciful Heaven! I see my fate--it is disgrace and misery! + +_Pon._ Bless you, if I could remember it; but I can't--however I'll +speak to my master about it, and if _he_ recollects it I dare say _I_ +shall. + +_Fan._ I have then no hope, and the fate of the hapless Fanny is +decided. + +_Pon._ Ha! yonder I see comes my master and his lordship. I wonder what +they are thinking of--they're coming this way. _I_ think we had better +retire. + +_Fan._ O hide me! hide me! In any corner let me hide my head, from +scorn, from misery, and, most of all, from him-- + +_Pon._ You can't escape that way, so you must come this. They wont think +of coming here. (_puts her into another room_) Poor girl! I've a great +mind to confess the whole affair. What shall I get by that? Nothing! +nothing! Oh! that's contrary to law! [_Exit. + + Enter_ lord Austencourt _and_ O'Dedimus. + +_Lord A._ Are you certain no one can overhear us? + +_O'Ded._ There's nobody can hear us except my ould housekeeper, and +she's as deaf as St. Dunstan's clock-strikers. + +_Lord A._ There is no time to be lost. You must immediately repair to +Fanny--tell her my affection is unabated--tell her I shall ever love +her, and make her such pecuniary offers, as shall convince her of my +esteem and affection; but we must meet no more. (_Fanny utters a cry +behind._) + +_O'Ded._ What's that? + +_Lord A._ We are betrayed! + +_O'Ded._ Och! 'tis only my ould housekeeper. + +_Lord A._ Your housekeeper! I thought you told me she was deaf. + +_O'Ded._ Yes; but she isn't dumb. Devil a word can she _hear_ for +sartin; but she's apt to _say_ a great many, and so we may proceed. + +_Lord A._ You will easily accomplish this business with Fanny. + +_O'Ded._ I'm afraid not. To tell you the truth, my lord, I don't like +the job. + +_Lord A._ Indeed! and why, sir? + +_O'Ded._ Somehow, when I see a poor girl with her pretty little eyes +brim full of tears, which I think have no business to be there, I'm more +apt to be busy in wiping them away, than in saying cruel things that +will make them flow faster; you had better tell her all this yourself, +my lord. + +_Lord A._ That, sir, is impossible. If _you_ decline it, I shall find +some one less delicate. + +_O'Ded._ There's reason in that, and if you send another to her, he may +not be quite so delicate, as you say: so I'll even undertake it myself. + +_Lord A._ The poor girl disposed of, if the old fool, her father, will +be thus clamorous, we must not be nice as to the means of silencing +him--money, I suppose, is his object. + +_O'Ded._ May be not--If a rich man by accident disables a poor man from +working, money may make him easy; but when his feelings are deliberately +tortured, devil fly away with the mercenary miser, if he will take +shining dirt as a compensation for cruelty. + +_Lord A._ I can dispense with moral reflections--It may serve your +purpose elsewhere, but to me, who know your practice, your preaching is +ridiculous--What is it you propose? If the fellow wont be satisfied by +money he must be removed. + +_O'Ded._ Faith, 'tis a new way, sure enough, to make reparation to the +feelings of a father, after having seduced daughter under the plea of a +false marriage, performed by a sham priest, and a forged licence! + +_Fanny_ (_behind._) Oh, heaven! let me pass--I must and will see him +(_enters._) Oh, my lord! my lord! my husband! (_she falls at his feet, +he raises her_) Surely my ears deceived me--you cannot, cannot mean it! +a false marriage! a pretended priest! What is to become of me! In mercy +kill me! Let me not live to see my broken-hearted father expire with +grief and shame, or live to curse me! Spare me but this, my lord, and I +will love, forgive, will pray for you-- + +_Lord A._ This is a plot against me--You placed her there on purpose to +surprise me in the moment of unguarded weakness. + +_O'Ded._ By St. Patrick, how she came there is a most mysterious mystery +to Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at law. + +_Lord A._ Fanny, I entreat you, leave me. + +_Fanny._ Oh, do not send me from you! Can you, my lord, abandon thus to +shame and wretchedness the poor deluded victim of your treachery! + +_Lord A._ Ha! leave me, I charge you! + +_Fanny._ No, no, my dearest lord! I cannot leave you! Whither shall I +fly, if these arms deny me refuge! Am I not yours? What if these wicked +men refuse me justice! There is another witness who will rise in +dreadful evidence against you! 'Tis Heaven itself! 'tis there your vows +were heard! 'tis there where Truth resides, your vows are registered! +then oh! reflect before you plunge too deep in guilt for repentance and +retreat! reflect that we are married! + +_Lord A._ I cannot speak at present; leave me, and we will meet again. + +_Fanny._ Do not command me from you; I see your heart is softened by my +tears; cherish the stranger Pity in your breast; 'tis noble, excellent! +Such pity in itself is virtue! Oh, cherish it, my lord! nor let the +selfish feelings of the world step in to smother it! Now! now, while it +glows unstifled in your heart! now, ere it dies, to be revived no more, +at once proclaim the triumph of your virtue, and receive into your arms +a fond and an acknowledged wife! + +_Lord A._ Ha! impossible! Urge me no more! I cannot, will not hear +you--My heart has ever been your own, my _hand must_ be another's; still +we may love each other; still we may sometimes meet. + +_Fanny_ (_after a struggle._) I understand you! No, sir! Since it must +be, we will meet no more! I know that there are laws; but to these laws +I disdain to fly! Mine is an injury that cannot be redressed; for the +only mortal witnesses to our union you have suborned: the laws, +therefore, cannot do me justice, and I will never, inhuman as you are, I +will never seek them for revenge. [_Exit._ + +_O'Ded_ (_aside._) I'm thinking, that if I was a lord, I should act in a +clean _contrary_ way; by the powers now, that man has got what I call a +tough constitution; his heart's made of stone like a brick wall--Oh! +that a man should have the power of a man, and not know how to behave +like a man! + +_Lord A._ What's to be done? speak, advise me! + +_O'Ded._ That's it: have you made up your mind already, that you ask me +to advise you? + +_Lord A._ I know not how to act. + +_O'Ded._ When a man's in doubt whether he should act as an honest man or +a rogue, there are two or three small reasons for choosing the right +side. + +_Lord A._ What is't you mean, sir? + +_O'Ded._ I mean this thing--that as I suppose you're in doubt whether to +persecute the poor souls, or to marry the sweet girl in right earnest. + +_Lord A._ Marry her! I have no such thoughts--idiot! + +_O'Ded._ Idiot! That's no proof of your lordship's wisdom to come and +ask advice of one.--Idiot, by St. Patrick! an idiot's a fool, and that's +a Christian name was never sprinkled upon Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney +at law! + +_Lord A._ I can feel for the unfortunate girl as well as you; but the +idea of marrying her is too ridiculous. + +_O'Ded._ The unfortunate girl never knew misfortune till she knew you, +my lord; and I heartily wish your lordship may never look more +ridiculous than you would do in performing an act of justice and mercy. + +_Lord A._ You presume strangely, sir, on my confidence and +condescension! + +_O'Ded._ What! are you coming over me now with the pride of your +condescension. _That_ for your condescension! When a great man, my lord, +does me the honour to confide in me, he'll find me trusty and +respectful; but when he condescends to make me an agent and a partner in +his iniquity, by your leave from that moment there's an end of +distinction between us. + +_Lord A._ There's no enduring this! Scoundrel! + +_O'Ded._ Scoundrel! ditto, my lord, ditto! If I'm a scoundrel, it was +you that made me one, and by St. Patrick, there's a brace of us. + +_Lord A._ (_aside_) The fellow has me in his power at present--you see +me irritated, and you ought to bear with me--let us think of this no +more. The father and daughter must both be provided for out of that +money which sir Rowland still holds in trust for me. + +_O'Ded._ And if you depend upon that money to silence the old man, you +might as well think to stop a mouse-hole with toasted cheese. + +_Lord A._ Pray explain, sir. + +_O'Ded._ Devil a penny of it is there left. Sir Rowland ventured it in a +speculation, and all is lost--Oh! blister my tongue, I've let out the +secret, sure enough! + +_Lord A._ Indeed! and what right had sir Rowland to risk my property? Be +assured I will exact every guinea of it. + +_O'Ded._ That's just what I told him. Sir, says I, his lordship is one +of the flinty-hearted ones, and devil a thirteener will he forgive +you--but, my lord, it will utterly ruin sir Rowland to replace it. + +_Lord A._ Sir Rowland should have thought of that before he embarked my +property in a hazardous enterprise. Inform him, sir, from me that I +expect an instant account of it. + +_O'Ded._ I shall do that thing, sir: but please to reflect a little--the +money so laid out was honestly intended for your advantage. + +_Lord A._ Another word sir, and I shall think it necessary to employ +another attorney. + +_O'Ded._ Sir, that's a quietus--I've done--only remember that if you +proceed to extremities, I warrant you'll repent it. + +_Lord A._ _You_ warrant-- + +_O'Ded._ Ay, sir, and a warrant of attorney is reckoned decent good +security. + +_Lord A._ Since my uncle has so far forgotten his duty as a guardian, I +have now an opportunity, which I shall not neglect, to bring him to a +proper recollection--you have nothing to do but to obey my orders; and +these are that the fourteen thousand pounds, of which he has defrauded +my estate, shall be immediately repaid. Look to it, sir, and to the +other affair you are entrusted with, and see that the law neglects no +measures to recover what is due to me. [_Exit._ + +_O'Ded._ And by St. Patrick, if the law gives you what is due to you, +that's what I'm too polite to mention. You've had your swing in iniquity +long enough, and such swings are very apt to end in one that's much too +exalted for my notions. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II.--_an apartment at_ sir Willoughby's.--_Enter_ sir Willoughby, +_and_ William _meeting him, the latter delivers a letter._ + +_Will._ The gentleman desired me to say he is below, sir. + +_Sir W._ Hey! (_reads_) "My dear Worret, I hope that a long absence from +my native land has not obliterated the recollection of our friendship. I +have thought it right to adopt this method of announcing my return, lest +my too sudden appearance should hurt _your_ feelings, by deranging the +_delicate nerves_ of your _amiable lady_" Hey! + + "Ever yours, + "FREDERICK FALKNER." + +Bless my soul! Falkner alive? show the gentleman up. + +_Will._ He's here, sir. + + _Enter_ Falkner. + +_Falk._ My old friend, I rejoice to see you. + +_Sir W._ Friend Falkner, I shan't attempt to say how welcome your return +is. We all thought you dead and buried. Where have you been all these +years? + +_Falk._ A wanderer. Let that suffice. + +_Sir W._ I see you still retain your old antipathy to answering +questions, so I shall ask none--Have you been in France, or among the +savages? Hey! I remember you had a daughter at school--is she alive? is +she merry or miserable? Is she married? + +_Falk._ Zounds what a medley! France and savages! marriage and misery! + +_Sir W._ Ods life, I'm happy to see you! I haven't been so cheerful or +happy for many a day. + +_Falk._ How's your wife? + +_Sir W._ Hey! thank ye, sir! why that excellent good woman is in high +health, in astonishing health! by my troth I speak it with unspeakable +joy, I think she's a better life now than she was when I married her! +(_in a melancholy tone._) + +_Falk._ That must be a source of _vast comfort_ to you. I don't wonder +at your being so cheerful and happy. + +_Sir W._ True--but it isn't _that_--that is, not altogether so: no, 'tis +that I once more hold my friend Falkner by the hand, and that my +daughter--you remember your little favourite Helen-- + +_Falkner._ I do indeed! + +_Sir W._ You are arrived at a critical moment: I mean shortly to marry +her-- + +_Falkner._ I forbid the banns! + +_Sir W._ The devil you do! + +_Falkner._ Pshaw! (_aside_) my feelings o'erstep my discretion. Take +care what you're about--If you're an honest man, you'd rather see her +dead than married to a villain. + +_Sir W._ To be sure I would; but the man I mean her to marry-- + +_Falkner._ Perhaps will never be her husband. + +_Sir W._ The devil he wont! why not? + +_Falkner._ Talk of something else--you know I was always an eccentric +being-- + +_Sir W._ What the devil does he mean? yes, yes you was always eccentric; +but do you know-- + +_Falkner._ I know more than I wish to know; I've lived long enough in +the world to know that roguery fattens on the same soil where honesty +starves; and I care little whether time adds to information which opens +to me more and more the depravity of human nature. + +_Sir W._ Why, Falkner, you are grown more a misanthrope than ever. + +_Falkner._ You know well enough I have had my vexations in life; in an +early stage of it I married-- + +_Sir W._ Every man has his trials! + +_Falkner._ About two years afterwards I lost my wife. + +_Sir W._ That was a heavy misfortune! however you bore it with +fortitude. + +_Falkner._ I bore it easily; my wife was a woman without feelings: she +had not energy for great virtue, and she had no vice, because she had no +passion: life with her was a state of stagnation. + +_Sir W._ How different are the fates of men! + +_Falkner._ In the next instance, I had a friend whom I would have +trusted with my life--with more--my honour--I need not tell you then I +thought him the first of human beings; but I was mistaken--he understood +my character no better than I knew his: he confided to me a transaction +which proved him to be a villain, and I commanded him never to see me +more. + +_Sir W._ Bless me! what was that transaction? + +_Falkner._ It was a secret, and has remained so. Though I should have +liked to hang the fellow, he had trusted me, and no living creature but +himself and me at this day is possessed of it. + +_Sir W._ Strange indeed; and what became of him. + +_Falkner._ I have not seen him since, but I shall see him in a few +hours. + +_Sir W._ Indeed, is he in this neighbourhood? + +_Falkner._ That circumstance of my friend, and a loss in the West +Indies, which shook the fabric of my fortune to its foundation, drove me +from the world--I am now returned to it with better prospects--my +property, which I then thought lost, is doubled--circumstances have +called me hither on an important errand, and before we are four and +twenty hours older, you may see some changes which will make you doubt +your own senses for the remainder of your days-- + +_Sir W._ You astonish me mightily. + +_Falkner._ Yes, you stare as if you were astonished: but why do I stay +chattering here? I must be gone. + +_Sir. W._ Nay, pr'ythee now-- + +_Falkner._ Pshaw! I have paid my first visit to you, because you are the +first in my esteem: don't weaken it by awkward and unseasonable +ceremony--I must now about the business that brings me here: no +interruption, if you wish to see me again let me have my own way, and I +may, perhaps, be back in half an hour. + +_Sir W._ But I want to tell you that-- + +_Falkner._ I know--I know--you want to prove to me that you are the +least talker, and the best husband in the county: but both secrets must +keep till my return, when I shall be happy to congratulate you--and so +farewell-- [_Exit._ + +_Sir W._ Bless my soul! what can he mean? 'I forbid the banns'--'lost my +wife'--'horrid transaction'--'back again in half an hour'--dear +me--John--Thomas! lady Worret! Helen! [_Exit._ + + +SCENE III.--_A room in_ sir Willoughby's _house_--Helen _and_ Charles +_meeting_--Helen _screams--they run towards each other, as if to +embrace_--Charles _stops suddenly._ + +_Helen._ Charles! is it _you_, or is it your _spirit_? + +_Char._ 'Tis I, madam, and you'll find I have brought my spirit with me. + +_Helen._ Hey! why what the deuce ails the man? + +_Char._ My presence here, no doubt astonishes you. + +_Helen._ Yes, sir, your presence _does_ astonish me, but your manner +still more. + +_Char._ I understand you--you would still keep a poor devil in your +toils, though in his absence you have been sporting with _nobler_ game. + +_Helen._ My good friend, will you descend from your heroical stilts, and +explain your meaning in plain English? + +_Char._ There needs no explanation of my conduct--call it caprice--say, +if you please, that _I_ am _altered_--say _I have changed my mind_, and +love another better-- + +_Helen._ Indeed! and is it come to this! he shall not see he mortifies +me, however--(_aside_) Since you are in this mind, sir, I wish you had +been pleased to signify the same by letter, sir-- + +_Char._ By letter? + +_Helen._ Yes, sir,--for this personal visit being rather unexpected, +does not promise to be particularly pleasant-- + +_Char._ I believe so, madam--you did not calculate, I fancy, on this +_sudden_ return. + +_Helen._ No, indeed, sir--and should have shown all Christian patience +if this _sudden_ return hadn't happened these _twelve months_. + +_Char._ The devil you would! madam!--but I'll be cool--I'll cut her to +the heart with a razor of ice--I'll congeal her with indifference--you +must know, madam-- + +_Helen._ Bless me, Charles, how very strangely you look--you're pale and +red, and red and pale, in the same moment! why you can scarcely breathe! +and now you tremble so! I'm afraid you are very ill. + +_Char._ Sarcastic! + +_Helen._ You move all over like a ship in a storm! + +_Char._ Vastly well, madam--and now-- + +_Helen._ Your teeth chatter!-- + +_Char._ Fire and fagots, madam, I _will_ speak! + +_Helen._ Do, dear Charles, while your are able--your voice will be gone +in a minute or two, and then-- + +_Char._ I will be heard! (_bawling_) + +_Helen._ That you will, indeed, and all over the house, too. + +_Char._ Madam, will you hear me or not? + +_Helen._ I am glad to find there's no affection of the lungs! + +_Char._ Death and torments! may I be allowed to speak--yes, or no? + +_Helen._ Yes, but gently; and make haste before they call the watch. + +_Char._ Madam, madam--I wish to keep my temper--I wish to be cool. + +_Helen._ Perhaps this will answer the purpose (_Fanning him_). + +_Char._ (_In confusion, after a pause, aside_) Is she laughing at me +now, or trying to wheedle me into a good humour? I feel, Miss Worret, +that I am expressing myself with too much warmth--I must therefore +inform you, that being ordered home with despatches, and having some +leisure time on my hands on my return, I thought it but proper as I +passed the house to call at your door--just to say--a--a--just civilly +to say--false! cruel! perfidious girl! you may break the tough heart of +a sailor, but damn me if he will ever own it broke for love of you! + +_Helen._ On my honour, sir, I do not understand what all this means. + +_Char._ You don't? + +_Helen._ No, sir--if your purpose here is insult, you might, methinks, +have found some fitter object than one who has so limited a power to +resent it! [_Going._ + +_Char._ Stay, madam, stay--what a face is there! a smile upon it too: +oh, Helen, spare those smiles! they once could wake my soul to ecstasy! +but now they rouse it into madness: save them, madam, for a happier +lover--save them for lord Austencourt. + +_Helen._ Charles, Charles, you have been deceived: but come, sit down +and hear me. + +_Char._ I am all attention, and listen to you with all that patience +which the subject demands. + +_Helen._ As you know the world, Charles, you cannot wonder that my +father (in the main a very good father, but in this respect like all +other fathers) should wish to unite his daughter to a man whose rank and +fortune-- + +_Char._ (_Rising in anger_) Spare yourself the trouble of further +explanation, madam; I see the whole at once--you are now going to tell +me about prudence, duty, obedience, filial affection, and all the +canting catalogue of fine phrases that serve to gloss over the giddy +frailty of your sex, when you sacrifice the person and the heart at the +frequented shrine of avarice and ambition! + +_Helen._ (_Rising also_) When I am next inclined to descend to +explanation, sir, I hope you will be better disposed to attend to me. +[_Going._ + +_Char._ A moment, madam! The whole explanation lies in a word--has not +your father concluded a treaty of marriage between you and lord +Austencourt? + +_Helen._ He _has_-- + +_Char._ There--'tis enough! you have confessed it-- + +_Helen._ (_Stifling her tears_) Confessed what? you monster! I've +confessed nothing. + +_Char._ Haven't you acknowledged that you are to be the wife of another? + +_Helen._ No. + +_Char._ No! won't you consent then? + +_Helen._ Half an hour ago nothing on earth should have induced me to +consent--but since I see, Charles, of what your temper is capable, I +shall think it more laudable to risk my happiness by obedience to my +father, than by an ill-judged constancy to one who seems so little +inclined to deserve it. [_Exit._ + +_Char._ Hey! where am I! zounds, I see my whole error at once! Oh, +Helen, Helen--for mercy's sake one moment more!--She's gone--and has +left me in anger! but I will see her again, and obtain her +forgiveness--fool, idiot, dolt, ass, that I am, to suffer my cursed +temper to master reason and affection at the risk of losing the dearest +blessing of life--a lovely and an amiable woman! [_Exit._ + +_End of Act III._ + + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE I.--O'Dedimus's _office--Enter_ Charles _pulling in_ Ponder _by +the collar._ + +_Char._ This way, sirrah, this way, and now out with your confession, if +you expect mercy at my hands. + +_Pon._ I will, sir, I will: but I expect no mercy at your hands, for +you've already handled me most unmercifully--(_Charles shakes him_) what +would you please to have me confess, sir? + +_Char._ I have seen old Abel Grouse--he has told me the story of his +daughter's marriage with this amiable cousin of mine: now, sirrah, +confess the truth--were you present, or were you not? out with it +(_shakes him_). + +_Pon._ Now pray recollect yourself--do, sir--think a little. + +_Char._ Recollect myself? + +_Pon._ Ay, sir, if you will but take time to reflect, you'll give _me_ +time to collect my scattered thoughts, which you have completely shaken +out of my pericranium. + +_Char._ No equivocation, answer directly, or though you're no longer my +servant, by heavens I'll-- + +_Pon._ Sir--for heaven's sake!--you'll shake nothing more out of me, +depend on't--if you'll be pleased to pause a moment, I'll think of an +answer. + +_Charles._ It requires no recollection to say whether you were a +witness-- + +_Pon._ No indeed, sir, ask my master if I was; besides if I had been, my +conscience wouldn't let me disclose it. + +_Charles._ Your conscience! good, and you're articled to an attorney! + +_Pon._ True, sir, but there's a deal of conscience in our office; if my +master knew I betrayed his secrets even to you, I believe (in +conscience,) he'd hang me if he could. + +_Charles._ If my old friend O'Dedimus proves a rogue at last, I shan't +wonder that you have followed his example. + +_Pon._ No, sir, for I always follow my master's example, even though it +should be in the path of roguery; compliment apart sir, I always +followed yours. + +_Charles._ Puppy, you trifle with my patience. + +_Pon._ No indeed, sir, I never play with edg'd tools. + +_Charles._ You wont acknowledge it then. + +_Pon._ Yes, sir, I'll acknowledge the truth, but I scorn a lie. + +_Charles._ 'Tis true I always thought you honest. I have ever trusted +you, Ponder, even as a friend: I do not believe you capable of deceiving +me. + +_Pon._ Sir, (_gulping_) I can't swallow that! it choaks me (_falling on +his knees_); forgive me, dear master that _was_; your threats I could +withstand, your violence I could bear, but your kindness and good +opinion there is no resisting; promise you wont betray me. + +_Charles._ So; now it comes. I do. + +_Pon._ Then, sir, the whole truth shall out, they _are_ married, sir, +and they are _not_ married, sir. + +_Charles._ Enigma too! + +_Pon._ Yes, sir, they are married, but the priest was ordained by my +master, and the license was of his own granting, and so they are not +married, and now the enigma's explained. + +_Charles._ Your master then is a villain! + +_Pon._ I don't know, sir, that puzzles me: but he's such an honest +follow I can hardly think him a rogue--though I fancy, sir, between +ourselves, he's like the rest of the world, half and half, or like +punch, sir, a mixture of opposites. + +_Charles._ So! villany has been thriving in my absence. If you feel the +attachment you profess why did you not confide this to me before? + +_Pon._ Sir, truth to speak, I did not tell you, because, knowing the +natural gentleness of your disposition, which I have so often admired, I +was alarmed, lest the sudden shock should cause one of those irascible +fits, which I have so often witnessed, and produce some of those shakes +and buffets, which to my unspeakable astonishment, I have so often +experienced. + +_Charles._ And which, I can tell you, you have now so narrowly escaped. + +_Pon._ True sir, I have escaped as narrowly as a felon who gets his +reprieve five minutes _after_ execution. + +_Charles._ Something must be done. I am involved in a quarrel with Helen +too! curse on my irritable temper. + +_Pon._ So I say, sir--try and mend it; pray do. + +_Charles._ I am resolved to have another interview with her;--to throw +myself at her feet, and sue for pardon! Though fate should oppose our +union, I may still preserve her from the arms of a villain, who is +capable of deceiving the innocent he could not seduce: and of planting a +dagger in the female heart, where nature has bestowed her softest +attributes, and has only left it _weak_, that man might cherish, +shelter, and protect it. [_Exit._ + +_Pon._ So! now I'm a rogue both ways--If I escape punishment one way, I +shall certainly meet it the other. But if my good luck saves me both +ways I shall never more credit a fortune-teller: for one once predicted, +that I was born to be hanged. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II.--_Sir Rowland's._ + + _Enter_ Sir Rowland _and_ O'Dedimus. + +_Sir R._ You have betrayed me then!--Did not I caution you to keep +secret from my nephew this accursed loss. + +_O'Ded._ And so you did sure enough, but somehow it slipt out before I +said a word about it; but I told him it was a secret, and I dare say he +wont mention it. + +_Sir R._ But you say, that he demands the immediate liquidation. + +_O'Ded._ Ay, sir, and has given me orders to proceed against you. + +_Sir R._ Is it possible! in a moment could I arrest his impious +progress; but I will probe him to the quick, did he threaten me, say +you?--There is however one way to save _him_ from this public avowal of +his baseness, and _me_ from his intended persecution--a marriage between +Charles and Mrs. Richland. + +_O'Ded._ The widow's as rich as the Wicklow mines! + +_Sir R._ The boy refuses to comply with my wishes; we may find means, +however, to compel him. + +_O'Ded._ He's a sailor; and gentlemen of his kidney are generally pretty +tough when they take a notion in their heads. + +_Sir R._ I am resolved to carry my point. I have reason to believe you +advanced him a sum of money. + +_O'Ded._ I did that thing--he's a brave fellow; I'd do that thing again. + +_Sir R._ You did wrong, sir, to encourage a young spendthrift in +disobedience to his father. + +_O'Ded._ I did right, sir, to assist the son of a client and the nephew +of a benefactor, especially when his father hadn't the civility to do +it. + +_Sir R._ Mr. O'Dedimus, you grow impertinent. + +_O'Ded._ Sir Rowland, I grow old; and 'tis one privilege of age to grow +blunt. I advanced your son a sum of money, because I esteemed him. I +tack'd no usurious obligation to the bond he gave me, and I never came +to ask you for security. + +_Sir R._ You _have_ his bond then-- + +_O'Ded._ I have, sir; his bond and judgment for two hundred pounds. + +_Sir R._ It is enough: then you can indeed assist my views,--the dread +of confinement will, no doubt, alter his resolution: you must enter up +judgment, and proceed on your bond. + +_O'Ded._ If I proceed upon my bond, it will be very much against my +judgment. + +_Sir R._ In order to alarm him, you must arrest him immediately. + +_O'Ded._ Sir Rowland, I wish to treat you with respect--but when without +a blush on your cheek you ask me to make myself a rascal, I must either +be a scoundrel ready-made to your hands, for respecting you, or a damn'd +hypocrite for pretending to do it--I see you are angry, sir, and I can't +help that; and so, having delivered my message, for fear I should say +any thing uncivil or ungenteel, I wish you a most beautiful good +morning. [_Exit._ + +_Sir R._ Then I have but one way left--my fatal secret must be publicly +revealed--oh horror! ruin irretrievable is preferable--never--never--that +secret shall die with _me_--(_Enter Falkner_) as 'tis probably +already buried in the grave with Falkner. + +_Falk._ 'Tis false--'tis buried only in his heart! + +_Sir R._ Falkner! + +_Falk._ 'Tis eighteen years since last we met. You have not, I find, +forgotten the theme on which we parted. + +_Sir R._ Oh, no! my heart's reproaches never would allow me! Oh +Falkner--I and the world for many years have thought you numbered with +the dead. + +_Falk._ To the world I was so--I have returned to it to do an act of +justice. + +_Sir R._ Will you then betray me? + +_Falk._ During eighteen years, sir, I have been the depositary of a +secret, which, if it does not actually affect your life, affects what +should be dearer than life, your honor. If, in the moment that your +ill-judged confidence avowed you as the man you are, and robbed me of +that friendship which I held sacred as my being--If in that bitter +moment I concealed my knowledge of your guilt from an imperious +principle of honor, it is not likely, that the years which time has +added to my life, should have taught me perfidy--your secret still is +safe. + +_Sir R._ Oh, Falkner--you have snatched a load of misery from my heart; +I breathe, I live again. + +_Falk._ Your exultation flows from a polluted source--I return to the +world to seek you, to warm and to expostulate; I come to urge you to +brave the infamy you have deserved; to court disgrace as the punishment +you merit: briefly to avow your guilty secret. + +_Sir R._ Name it not for mercy's sake! It is impossible! How shall I +sustain the world's contempt, its scorn, revilings and reproaches? + +_Falk._ Can he, who has sustained so long the reproaches of his +conscience, fear the world's revilings?--Oh, Austencourt! Once you had a +heart. + +_Sir R._ Sir, it is callous now to every thing but shame; when it lost +_you_, its dearest only friend, its noblest feelings were extinguished: +my crime has been my punishment, for it has brought on me nothing but +remorse and misery: still is my fame untainted by the world, and I will +never court its contumely. + +_Falk._ You are determined-- + +_Sir R._ I am! + +_Falk._ Have you no fear from me? + +_Sir R._ None! You have renewed your promise, and I am safe. + +_Falk._ Nothing then remains for me but to return to that obscurity from +whence I have emerged--had I found you barely leaning to the side of +virtue, I had arguments to urge that might have fixed a wavering +purpose; but I find you resolute, hardened and determined in guilt, and +I leave you to your fate. + +_Sir R._ Stay, Falkner, there is a meaning in your words. + +_Falk._ A dreadful precipice lies before you: be wary how you tread! +there is a being injured by your----by lord Austencourt, see that he +makes her reparation by an immediate marriage--look first to that. + +_Sir R._ To such a degradation could _I_ forget my noble ancestry, _he_ +never will consent. + +_Falk._ Look next to yourself: he is not a half villain, and it is not +the ties of consanguinity will save you from a jail. Beware how you +proceed with Charles--you see I am acquainted with more than you +suspected; look to it, sir; for the day is not yet passed that by +restoring you to virtue, may restore to you a friend; or should you +persevere in guilty silence, that may draw down unexpected vengeance on +your head-- [_Exit._ + +_Sir R._ Mysterious man! a moment stay! I cannot live in this dreadful +uncertainty! whatever is my fate, it shall be decided quickly. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE III.--_An apartment at sir Willoughby's; a door in the flat. +Enter_ Helen _and_ Charles. + +_Helen._ I tell you, it is unless to follow me, sir. The proud spirit +you evinced this morning, might have saved you methinks from this +meanness of solicitation. + +_Charles._ Surely now a frank acknowledgment of error deserves a milder +epithet than meanness. + +_Helen._ As you seem equally disposed, sir, to quarrel with my words, as +you are to question my conduct, I fear you will have little cause to +congratulate yourself on this _forced_ and _tiresome_ interview. + +_Charles._ _Forced_ interview! Did ever woman so consider the anxiety of +a lover to seek explanation and forgiveness! Helen, Helen, you torture +me; is this generous?--is it like yourself? surely if you lov'd me-- + +_Helen._ Charles--I do love you--that, is, I _did_ love you, but--I +don't love you, but (_aside_) ah! now I'm going to make bad worse. + +_Charles._ But _what_, Helen? + +_Helen._ The violence of temper you have discovered this morning, has +shown me the dark side of your character; it has given a pause to +affection, and afforded me time to reflect--now though I do really and +truly believe that--you--love me Charles. + +_Sir W._ (_behind_) I must see my daughter directly--where is she! + + _Enter_ Tiffany _running._ + +_Tiffany._ Ma'am, ma'am, your father's coming up stairs, with a letter +in his hand, muttering something about Mr. Charles; as sure as life +you'll be discovered. + +_Helen._ For heav'n's sake hide yourself; I would not have him find you +here for worlds--here, step into the music-room. + +_Charles._ Promise me first your forgiveness. + +_Helen._ Charles, retire, I entreat you--make haste, he is here. + +_Charles._ On my knees-- + +_Helen._ Then kneel in the next room. + +_Charles._ Give me but your hand. + +_Helen._ That is now at my own disposal--I beseech you go--(_Charles +just gains the door when enter sir Willoughby with a letter in his hand, +and Lady Worret._) + +_Sir W._ Gadzooks! Here's a discovery! + +_Helen._ A discovery, sir? (_Helen looks at the door_) + +_Sir W._ Ay, a discovery indeed!--Ods life! I'm in a furious passion! + +_Helen._ Dear sir, not with me I hope-- + +_Lady W._ Let me entreat you sir Willoughby to compose yourself; +recollect that anger is very apt to bring on the gout. + +_Sir W._ Damn the gout, I must be in a passion--my--life--harkye, +daughter-- + +_Helen._ They know he's here! so I may as well own it at once. + +_Lady W._ Pray compose yourself, remember we have no _proof_. + +_Sir W._ Why that's true--that is remarkably true--I must compose +myself--I _will_--I _do_--I _am_ composed--and now let me open the +affair with coolness and deliberation! Daughter, come hither. + +_Helen._ Yes, sir--now for it!-- + +_Sir W._ Daughter, you are in general, a very good, dutiful, and +obedient child-- + +_Helen._ I know it, papa--and was from a child, and I always will be. + +_Lady W._ Allow me, sir Willoughby--you are in general, child, a very +headstrong, disobedient, and undutiful daughter. + +_Helen._ I know it, mamma--and was from a child, and always will be. + +_Lady W._ How, madam!--Remember, sir Willoughby--there is a proper +medium between too violent a severity, and too gentle a lenity. + +_Sir W._ Zounds, madam, in your own curs'd economy there is no +medium--but don't bawl so, or we shall be overheard. + +_Lady W._ Sir Willoughby, you are very ill I'm sure; but I must now +attend to this business, daughter, we have heard that Charles-- + +_Sir W._ Lady Worret, my love, let _me_ speak--you know, child, it is +the duty of an _obedient_ daughter, to _obey_ her parents. + +_Helen._ I know it, papa, and when I _obey you_, I am _generally +obedient_. + +_Lady W._ In short, child, I say again, we learn that Charles---- + +_Sir W._ Lady Worret, lady Worret, you are too abrupt, od-rabbit it, +madam, I will be heard: this affair concerns the _honor_ of my family, +and on this one occasion, I will be my own spokesman. + +_Lady W._ Oh heavens! Your violence affects my brain. + +_Sir W._ Does it? I wish it would affect your tongue, with all my heart: +bless my soul, what have I said! Lady Worret! lady Worret! you drive me +out of my senses, and then wonder that I act like a madman. + +_Lady W._ Barbarous man, your cruelty will break my heart, and I shall +leave you, sir Willoughby, to deplore my loss, in unavailing despair, +and everlasting anguish. [_Exit._ + +_Sir W._ (_aside_) I am afraid not: such despair and anguish will never +be my--happy--lot!--bless me, how quiet the room is--what can be--oh, my +wife's gone! now then we may proceed to business--and so daughter, this +young fellow, Charles, has dared to return, in direct disobedience to +his father's commands. + +_Helen._ I had better confess it all at once--he has, he has, my dear +papa. I do confess it was very, very wrong; but pray now do forgive-- + +_Sir W._ _I_--forgive him! never; nor his father will never forgive him; +sir Rowland writes me here, to take care of you; I have before given him +my solemn promise to prevent your meeting, and I am sorry to say, I +haven't the least doubt that you know he is here, and will-- + +_Helen._ I do confess, _he_ is here, papa. + +_Sir W._ Yes, you'll confess it fast enough, now I've found it out. + +_Helen._ Indeed I was so afraid you would find it out, that I---- + +_Sir W._ Find it out! his father writes me word, he has been here in the +village these three hours! + +_Helen._ In the _village_! Oh, what, you heard he was in the _village_! + +_Sir W._ Yes, and being afraid he should find his way to my house--egad +I never was brisker after the fox-hounds than I was after you, in fear +of finding you at a fault, you puss. + +_Helen._ Oh! you were afraid he should come _here_, were you? + +_Sir W._ Yes; but I'll take care he shan't; however, as my maxim is (now +my wife doesn't hear me) to trust your sex no farther than I can +possibly help, I shall just put you, my dear child, under lock and key, +'till this young son of the ocean, is bundled off to sea again. + +_Helen._ What! lock me up! + +_Sir W._ Damme if I don't. Come, walk into that room, and I'll take the +key with me. (_pointing to the room where Charles entered._) + +_Helen._ Into _that_ room? + +_Sir W._ Yes. + +_Helen._ And do you think I shall stay there by myself? + +_Sir W._ No, no. Here Tiffany! (_enter_ Tiffany) Miss Pert here shall +keep you company. I'll have no whisperings through key-holes, nor +letters thrust under doors. + +_Helen._ And you'll really lock me up in that room! + +_Sir W._ Upon my soul I will. + +_Helen._ Now, dear papa, be persuaded; take my advice, and don't. + +_Sir W._ If I _don't_, I wish you may be in Charles Austencourt's arms +in three minutes from this present speaking. + +_Helen._ And if you _do_, take my word for it I might be in his arms if +I chose, in less than two minutes from this present warning. + +_Sir W._ Might you so? Ha, ha! I'll give you leave if you can: for +unless you jump into them out of the window, I'll defy the devil and all +his imps to bring you together. + +_Helen._ We shall come together without their assistance, depend on it, +papa. + +_Sir W._ Very well; and now, my dear, walk in. + +_Helen._ With all my heart; only remember you had better not. (_He puts +her in._) + +_Sir W._ That's a good girl; and you, you baggage, in with you (_to +Tiffany, who goes in._) + +_Sir W._ (_shuts the door and locks it_) "Safe bind, safe find," is one +of my lady Worret's favourite proverbs; and that's the only reason why I +in general dislike it (_going._) + + _Enter_ Falkner. + +_Sir W._ Once more welcome, my dear Falkner. What brings you back so +soon? + +_Falk._ You have a daughter-- + +_Sir W._ Well, I know I have. + +_Falk._ And a wife. + +_Sir W._ I'm much obliged to you for the information. You have been a +widower some years I believe. + +_Falk._ What of that? do you envy me? + +_Sir W._ Envy you! what! because you are a widower? Eh? Zounds, I +believe he is laughing at me (_aside._) + +_Falk._ I am just informed that every thing is finally arranged between +your lady and his lordship respecting Helen's marriage. + +_Sir W._ Yes, every thing is happily settled. + +_Falk._ I am sincerely sorry to hear it. + +_Sir W._ You are! I should have thought Mr. Falkner, that my daughter's +happiness was dear to you. + +_Falk._ It is, and therefore I do not wish to see her married to lord +Austencourt. + +_Sir W._ Why then what the devil is it you mean? + +_Falk._ To see her married to the man of her heart, with whom I trust to +see her as happy--as you are with lady Worret. + +_Sir W._ Yes, ha! ha! ha! yes! but you are in jest respecting my +daughter. + +_Falk._ No matter! where is Helen? + +_Sir W._ Safe under lock and key. + +_Falk._ Under lock and key! + +_Sir W._ Ay, in that very room. I've locked her up to keep her from that +hot-headed young rogue, Charles Austencourt. Should you like to see her? +She's grown a fine young woman. + +_Falk._ With all my heart. + +_Sir W._ You'll be surprised, I can tell you. + +_Falk._ I dare say. + +_Sir W._ We'll pop in upon her when she least expects it. I'll bet my +life you'll be astonished at her appearance. + +_Falk._ Well, I shall be glad to see your daughter; but she must not +marry this lord. + +_Sir W._ No! Who then? + +_Falk._ The man she loves. + +_Sir W._ Hey! oh yes! but who do you mean! Charles Austencourt? +(_opening the door._) + + _Enter_ Lady Worret, _suddenly._ + +_Lady W._ Charles Austencourt! + +_Falk._ (_aloud, and striking the floor with his stick._) Ay, Charles +Austencourt! + +_Charles_ (_entering._) Here am I. Who calls? + +Helen _and_ Tiffany _come forward, and_ Tiffany _goes off._ + +_Sir W._ Fire and fagots! what do I see? + +_Lady W._ Ah Heavens defend me! what do I behold? + +_Falk._ Why, is this the surprise you promised me? The astonishment +seems general. Pray, sir Willoughby, explain this puppet show! + +_Lady W._ Ay! pray sir Willoughby explain-- + +_Sir W._ Curse me if I can. + +_Helen._ I told you how it would be, papa, and you would not believe me! + +_Sir W._ So! pray, sir, condescend to inform lady Worret and me, how you +introduced yourself into that most extraordinary situation. + +_Charles._ Sir, I shall make no mystery of it, nor attempt to screen you +from her ladyship's just reproaches, by concealing one atom of the +truth. The fact is, madam, that sir Willoughby not only in my hearing, +gave Miss Helen his unrestricted permission to throw herself into my +arms, but actually forced her into the room where I was quietly seated, +and positively and deliberately lock'd us in together! + +_Lady W._ Oh! I shall expire! + +_Sir W._ I've heard of matchless impudence, but curse me if this isn't +the paragon of the species! Zounds! I'm in a wonderful passion! +Daughter, I am resolved to have this affair explained to my +satisfaction. + +_Helen._ You _may_ have it explained, papa, but I fear it won't be to +your _satisfaction_. + +_Charles._ No, sir, nor to her ladyship's either, and now, as my +situation here is not remarkably agreeable I take my leave: madam, your +most obedient, and sir Willoughby, the next time you propose an +agreeable surprise for your friends-- + +_Sir W._ Harkye sir, how you came into my house I can't tell, but if you +don't presently walk out of it. + +_Charles._ I say, I heartily hope that you may accomplish your purpose. + +_Sir W._ Zounds, sir, leave my house. + +_Charles._ Without finding yourself the most astonished of the party! +[_Exit._ + +_Sir W._ Thank heaven my house is rid of him. + +_Lady W._ As usual, sir Willoughby, a precious business you've made of +this! + +_Sir W._ Death and furies, my Lady Worret-- + +_Falk._ Gently, my old friend, gently: I'm one too many here during +these little domestic discussions; but before I go, on two points let me +caution you; let your daughter choose her own husband if you wish her to +have one without leaping out of the window to get at him; and be master +of your own house and your own wife if you do not wish to continue, what +you now are, the laughing-stock of all your acquaintance.-- [_Exit._ + +_Lady W._ Ah! the barbarian! + +_Sir W._ (_appears astonished_) I'm thunderstruck (_makes signs to Helen +to go before._) + +_Helen._ Won't you go first, papa? + +_Sir W._ Hey? If I lose sight of you till you've explained this +business, may I be laid up with the gout while you are galloping the +Gretna Green! "Be master of your house and wife if you don't wish to +continue, _what you now are_!--Hey? the laughing-stock of all your +acquaintance!" Sir Willoughby Worret the laughing stock of all his +acquaintance! I think I see my self the laughing-stock of all my +acquaintance (_pointing to the door_) I'll follow you ladies! I'll +reform! 'tis never too late to mend! [_Exeunt._ + +_End of Act. IV._ + + + + +ACT V. + + +SCENE I.--_An apartment at_ sir Willoughby Worret's. _Enter_ sir +Willoughby _and_ lady Worret. + +_Sir W._ Lady Worret! lady Worret! I will have a reform. I am at last +resolved to be master of my own house, and so let us come to a right +understanding, and I dare say we shall be the better friends for it in +future. + +_Lady W._ You shall see, sir Willoughby, that I can change as suddenly +as yourself. Though you have seen my delicate system deranged on +_slight_ occasions, you will find that in essential ones I have still +spirit for resentment. + +_Sir W._ I'll have my house in future conducted as a gentleman's should +be, and I will no longer suffer my wife to make herself the object of +ridicule to all her servants. So I'll give up the folly of wishing to be +thought a _tender_ husband, for the real honour of being found a +_respectable_ one. I'll make a glorious bonfire of all your musty +collection of family receipt-books! and when I deliver up your keys to +an honest housekeeper, I'll keep one back of a snug apartment in which +to deposit a rebellious wife. + +_Lady W._ That will be indeed the way to make yourself respectable. I +have found means to manage you for some years, and it will be my own +fault if I don't do so still. + +_Sir W._ Surely I dream! what? have you _managed_ me? Hey? Zounds! I +never suspected that. Has sir Willoughby Worret been lead in +leading-strings all this time? Death and forty devils, madam, have you +presumed to manage _me_? + +_Lady W._ Yes, sir; but you had better be silent on the subject, unless +you mean to expose yourself to your daughter and all the world. + +_Sir W._ Ay, Madam, with all my heart; my daughter and all the world +shall know it. + + _Enter_ Helen. + +_Helen._ Here's a pretty piece of work!--what's the matter now, I +wonder? + +_Lady W._ How dare you overhear our domestic dissentions. What business +have you to know we were quarrelling, madam? + +_Helen._ Lord love you! if I had heard it, I should not have listened, +for its nothing new, you know, when you're _alone_; though you both look +so _loving_ in _public_. + +_Sir W._ That's true--that is _lamentably_ true--but all the world +_shall_ know it--I'll proclaim it; I'll print it--I'll advertise +it!--She has usurped my rights and my power; and her fate, as every +usurper's should be, shall be _public_ downfall and disgrace. + +_Helen._ What, papa! and won't you let mamma-in-law rule the roast any +longer? + +_Sir W._ No,--I am resolved from this moment no longer to give way to +her absurd whims and wishes. + +_Helen._ You are! + +_Sir W._ Absolutely and immovably. + +_Helen._ And you will venture to contradict her? + +_Sir W._ On every occasion--right or wrong. + +_Helen._ That's right--Pray, madam, don't you wish me to marry lord +Austencourt? + +_Lady W._ You know my _will_ on that head, Miss Helen! + +_Helen._ Then, papa, of course you wish me to marry _Charles_ +Austencourt. + +_Sir W._ What! no such thing--no such thing--what! marry a beggar? + +_Helen._ But you won't let mamma rule the roast, will you, sir? + +_Sir W._ 'Tis a great match! I believe in that _one_ point we shall +still agree-- + +_Lady W._ You may spare your persuasions, Madam, and leave the room. + +_Sir W._ What--my daughter leave the room? Stay here, Helen. + +_Helen._ To be sure I shall--I came on purpose to tell you the news! oh, +tis a pretty piece of work! + +_Sir W._ What does the girl mean? + +_Helen._ Why, I mean that in order to ruin a poor innocent girl, in our +neighbourhood, this amiable lord has prevailed on her to consent to a +private marriage--and it now comes out that it was all a mock marriage, +performed by a sham priest, and a false license! + +_Lady W._ I don't believe one word of it. + +_Sir W._ But I do--and shall inquire into it immediately. + +_Lady W._ Such a match for your daughter is not to be relinquished on +slight grounds; and though his lordship should have been guilty of some +indiscretion, it will not alter my resolution respecting his union with +Helen. + +_Sir W._ No--but it will mine--and to prove to you, madam, that however +you may rule your household, you shall no longer rule _me_--if the story +has any foundation--I say--she _shall not_ marry lord Austencourt. + +_Lady W._ Shall not? + +_Sir W._ No, Madam, shall not--and so ends your management, and thus +begins my career of new-born authority. I'm out of leading-strings now, +and madam, I'll manage you, damn me if--I--do--not! [_Exit Sir +Willoughby._ + +_Helen_ (_to Lady W._) You hear papa's _will_ on that head, ma'am. + +_Lady W._ I hear nothing!--I see nothing!--I shall go mad with vexation +and disappointment, and if I do not break his resolution, I am +determined to break his heart; and my _own_ heart, and _your_ heart, and +the hearts of all the rest of the family. [_Exit._ + +_Helen._ There she goes, with a laudable matrimonial resolution. Heigho! +with such an example before my eyes, I believe I shall never have +resolution to die an old maid. Oh, Charles, Charles--why did you take me +at my word!--Bless me! sure I saw him then--'tis he indeed! So, my +gentleman, are you there? I'll just retire and watch his motions a +little (_retires._) + + _Enter Charles Austencourt, cautiously._ + +_Charles._ What a pretty state am I reduced to? though I am resolved to +speak with this ungrateful girl but once more before I leave her for +ever; here am I, skulking under the enemy's batteries as though I was +afraid of an encounter!--Yes, I'll see her, upbraid her, and then leave +her for ever! heigho! she's a false, deceitful--dear, bewitching girl, +and--however, I am resolved that nothing on earth--not even her tears, +shall now induce me to forgive her. (_Tiffany crosses the stage._) + +_Charles._ Ha!--harkye, young woman! pray are the family at home? + +_Tiffany._ My lady is at home, sir--would you please to see her? + +_Charles._ Your lady--do you mean your _young_ lady? + +_Tiffany._ No, sir, I mean my _lady_. + +_Charles._ What, your _old_ lady?--No--I don't wish to see her. Are all +the rest of the family from home-- + +_Tiffany._ No, sir--sir Willoughby is within--I'll tell him you are +here. (_going._) + +_Charles._ By no means--stay--stay! what then, they are all at home +except Miss Helen. + +_Tiffany._ She's at home too, sir--but I suppose she don't wish to see +you. + +_Charles._ _You suppose!_ + +_Tiffany._ I'm sure she's been in a monstrous ill-humour ever since you +came back, sir. + +_Charles._ The devil she has!--and pray now are you of opinion that my +return is the cause of her ill-humour? + +_Tiffany._ Lord, sir--what interest have I in knowing such things?-- + +_Charles._ Interest!--oh, ho! the old story! why harkye, my dear--your +mistress has a lord for her lover, so I suppose he has secured a warmer +interest than I can afford to purchase--however, I know the custom, and +thus I comply with it, in hopes you will tell me whether you really +think my return has caused your young mistress' ill-humour----(_gives +money_). + +_Tiffany._ A guinea! well! I declare! why really, sir--when I say Miss +Helen has been out of humour on your account, I don't mean to say it is +on account of your _return_, but on account of your going away again-- + +_Charles._ No! my dear Tiffany! + +_Tiffany._ And I am sure I don't wonder at her being cross about it, for +if I was my mistress I never would listen with patience (any more than +she does) to such a disagreeable creature as my lord, while such a +generous nice gentleman as you was ready to make love to me. + +_Charles._ You couldn't? + +_Tiffany._ No, sir--and I'm sure she's quite altered and melancholy gone +since you quarrelled with her, and she vows now more than ever that she +never will consent to marry my lord, or any body but you--(_Helen comes +forward gently._) + +_Charles._ My dear Tiffany!--let me catch the sounds from your rosy +lips. (_Kisses her_)-- + +_Helen._ (_separating them_) Bless me! I am afraid I interrupt business +here! + +_Charles._ I--I--I--Upon my soul, Madam--what you saw was-- + +_Tiffany._ Ye--ye--yes--upon my word, ma'am--what you saw was-- + +_Helen._ What I saw was very clear indeed!-- + +_Charles._ Hear me but explain--you do not understand.-- + +_Helen._ I rather think I _do_ understand. + +_Tiffany._ Indeed, Ma'am, Mr. Charles was only _whispering_ something I +was to tell you-- + +_Helen._ And pray, ma'am, do you suffer gentlemen in general to whisper +in that fashion?--what do you stand stammering and blushing there +for?--why don't you go? + +_Tiffany._ Yes, ma'am,--but I assure you-- + +_Helen._ What! you stay to be whispered to again, I suppose. [_Exit +Tiffany._ + +_Charles._ Let me explain this,--oh, Helen--can you be surprised? + +_Helen._ No, sir, I can't be surprised at any thing after what I have +just witnessed-- + +_Charles._ On my soul, it was excess of joy at hearing you still lov'd +me, that led me into this confounded scrape. + +_Helen._ Sir, you should not believe it--I don't love you. I wont love +you,--and after what I have just seen, you can't expect I should love +you-- + +_Charles._ Helen! Helen! you make no allowance for the fears of a man +who loves you to distraction. I have borne a great deal, and can bear +but very little more-- + +_Helen._ Poor man! you're sadly loaded with grievances, to be sure; and +by and by, I suppose, like a horse or a mule, or some such stubborn +animal, having more than you can bear, you'll kick a little, and plunge +a little, and then down on your _knees_ again! + +_Charles._ I gloried even in that humble posture, while you taught me to +believe you loved me. + +_Helen._ 'Tis true, my heart was once your own, but I never can, nor +ought to forgive you--for thinking me capable of being unfaithful to +you. + +_Charles._ Dearest dear Helen! and has your anger then no other cause? +surely you could not blame a resentment which was the offspring of my +fond affection? + +_Helen._ No! to be sure I couldn't, who could!--but what should I not +have to dread from the violence of your temper, if I consented--to run +away with you? + +_Charles._ Run away with me!--no!--zounds I've a chaise in waiting-- + +_Helen._ Have you?--then pray let it wait,--no! no! Charles--though I +haven't scrupled to own an affection for you, I have too much respect +for the world's opinion,--let us wait with patience,--time may rectify +that impetuosity of character, which is now, I own, my dread; think of +it, Charles, and beware; for affection is a frail flower, reared by the +hand of gentleness, and perishes as surely by the shocks of violence as +by the more gradual poison of neglect. + +_Charles._ Dearest Helen! I will cherish it in my heart--'tis a _rough_ +soil I own, but 'tis a _warm_ one; and when the hand of delicacy shall +have cultivated this flower that is rooted there, the blossom shall be +everlasting love! + +_Helen._ Ah you men!--you men! but--I think I may be induced to try +you.--Meantime, accept my hand, dear Charles, as a pledge of my heart, +and as the assurance that it shall one day be your own indeed (_he +kisses her hand._) There you needn't eat it--there!--now make your +escape, and farewell till we meet again.--(_They are going out +severally_) + + _Enter_ sir Rowland _and_ sir Willoughby, _at opposite sides._ + +_Charles._ Zounds! my father! + +_Helen._ Gad-a-mercy! my papa! + +_Sir R._ So, sir! you are here again I find! + +_Sir W._ So! so! Madam! together again, hey? sir Rowland, your servant. + +_Sir R._ I need not tell you, sir Willoughby, that this undutiful boy's +conduct does not meet with my sanction. + +_Char._ No! sir Willoughby--I am sorry to say my conduct seldom meets +with my father's sanction. + +_Sir W._ Why look ye, sir Rowland, there are certain things that we _do_ +like, and certain things that we do _not_ like--now sir, to cut the +matter short, I do like my daughter to marry, but I do not like either +your son or your nephew for her husband. + +_Sir R._ This is a very sudden _change_, sir Willoughby-- + +_Sir W._ Yes, sir Rowland, I have made two or three sudden changes to +day!--I've changed my resolution--I feel changed myself--for I've +changed characters with my wife, and with your leave I mean to change my +son-in-law. + +_Sir R._ Of course, sir, you will give me a proper explanation of the +last of these changes. + +_Sir W._ Sir, if you'll meet me presently at your attorney's, the thing +will explain itself: this way, young lady if you please--Charles, I +believe you are a devilish honest fellow, and I want an honest fellow +for a son-in-law--but I think it is rather too much to give twelve +thousand a year for him--this way Miss Helen. [_Exit sir Willoughby and +Helen._ + +_Sir R._ This sudden resolution of sir Willoughby will still more +exasperate him--I must seek him instantly, for the crisis of my fate is +at hand; my own heart is witness against me--Heaven is my judge, and I +have deserved my punishment! [_Exit sir R._ + +_Char._ So! I'm much mistaken, or there'll be a glorious bustle +presently at the old lawyer's--He has sent to beg I'll attend, and as my +heart is a little at rest in this quarter, I'll e'en see what's going +forward in _that_--whether his intention be to _expose_ or to _abet_ a +villain, still I'll be one amongst them; for while I have a heart to +feel and a hand to act, I can never be an idle spectator when insulted +virtue raises her supplicating voice on one side, and persecution dares +to lift his unblushing head on the other. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II.--_O'Dedimus's Office._ + + _Enter_ O'Dedimus _and_ Ponder. + +_O'Ded._ You've done the business, you say! + +_Pon._ Ay, and the parties will all be here presently. + +_O'Ded._ That's it! you're sure you haven't blabbed now? + +_Pon._ Blabbed! ha, ha, ha! what do you take me for? + +_O'Ded._ What do I take you for, Mr. Brass? Why I take you for one that +will never be choked by politeness. + +_Pon._ Why, Lord, sir, what could a lawyer do without impudence? for +though they say "honesty's the best policy" a lawyer generally finds his +purpose better answered by a _Policy of Assurance_. + +_O'Ded._ But hark! somebody's coming already, step where I told you, and +make haste. + +_Pon._ On this occasion I lay by the lawyer and take up the Christian. +Benevolence runs fast--but law is lazy and moves slowly. [_Exit._ + + _Enter_ Falkner _as_ Abel Grouse. + +_Abel Grouse._ I have obeyed your summons. What have you to say in +palliation of the injury you have done me? + +_O'Ded._ Faith and I shall say a small matter about it. What I have done +I have performed, and what I have performed I shall justify. + +_Ab. Gr._ Indeed! Can you justify fraud and villany? To business, sir; +wherefore am I summoned here? + +_O'Ded._ That's it! Upon my conscience I'm too modest to tell you. + +_Ab. Gr._ Nature and education have made you modest: you were born an +Irishman and bred in attorney-- + +_O'Ded._ And take my word for it, when Nature forms an Irishman, if she +makes some little blunder in the contrivance of his head, it is because +she bestows so much pains on the construction of his heart. + +_Ab. Gr._ That may be partially true; but to hear _you_ profess +sentiments of feeling and justice reminds me of our advertising +money-lenders who, while they practise usury and extortion on the world, +assure them that "the strictest honor and liberality may be relied on;" +and now, sir once more, your business with me. + +_O'Ded._ Sure, sir, I sent for you to ask one small bit of a favour. + +_Ab. Gr._ From me! + +_O'Ded._ Ay, from you; and the favour is, that before you honor me with +the appellation of scoundrel, villain, pettyfogger, and some other such +little genteel epithets, you will be pleased to examine my title to such +distinctions. + +_Ab. Gr._ From you, however, I have no hopes. You have denied your +presence at the infamous and sacrilegious mockery of my daughter's +marriage. + +_O'Ded._ That's a mistake, sir; I never did deny it. + +_Ab. Gr._ Ha! you acknowledge it then! + +_O'Ded._ That's another mistake, sir; for I never did acknowledge it. + +_Ab. Gr._ Fortunately my hopes rest on a surer basis than your honesty. +Circumstances have placed in one of my hands the scales of Justice, and +the other her sword for punishment. + +_O'Ded._ Faith, sir, though you may be a fit representative of the old +blind gentlewoman called Justice, she showed little discernment when she +pitched upon you, and overlooked Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at +law. And now, sir, be pleased to step into that room, and wait a moment, +while I transact a little business with one who is coming yonder. + +_Ab. Gr._ I came hither to obey you; for I have some suspicion of your +intentions; and let us hope that one virtuous action, if you have +courage to perform it, will serve as a sponge to all the roguery you +have committed, either as an attorney or as a man. [_Exit to an inner +room._ + +_O'Ded._ That blunt little fellow has got a sharp tongue in his head. +He's an odd compound, just like a great big roasted potato, all crusty +and crabbed without, but mealy and soft-hearted within. He takes me to +be half a rogue and all the rest of me a scoundrel--Och, by St. Patrick! +I'll bother his brains presently. + + _Enter_ sir Rowland, lord Austencourt, _and_ Charles. + +_Lord A._ Further discussion, sir, is useless. If I am to be +disappointed in this marriage, a still more strict attention to my own +affairs is necessary. + +_Sir R._ I appeal fearlessly to this man, who has betrayed me, whether +your interest was not my sole motive in the appropriation of your +property. + +_Lord A._ That assertion, sir, I was prepared to hear, but will not +listen to. + +_Sir R._ _Beware_, lord Austencourt, _beware_ how you _proceed_! + +_Lord A._ Do you again threaten me? (_to O'Dedimus_) are my orders +obeyed? is every thing in readiness? + +_O'Ded._ The officers are in waiting! + +_Charles._ Hold, monster! Proceed at your peril. To me you shall answer +this atrocious conduct. + +_Lord A._ To you! + +_Charles._ Ay, sir, _to me_, if you have the courage of a man. + +_Lord A._ I will no longer support these insults. Call in the officers. + + _Enter_ sir Willoughby, lady Worret, _and_ Helen. + +_Sir W._ Hey! zounds! did you take me and my lady Worret for sheriff's +officers, my lord? + +_Lord A._ I have one condition to propose--if that lady accepts my hand, +I consent to stop the proceedings. That alone can alter my purpose. + +_Charles._ Inhuman torturer! + +_Helen._ Were my heart as free as air I never would consent to a union +with such a monster! + +_Sir W._ And if _you_ would, curse me if _I_ would--nor my lady Worret +either. + +_Sir R._ Let him fulful his purpose if he dare! I now see the black +corruptness of his heart; and though my life were at stake I would pay +the forfeit, rather than immolate innocence in the arms of such +depravity. + +_Lord A._ Call in the officers, I say! + +_O'Ded_ (_without moving._) I shall do that thing. + +_Lord A._ 'Tis justice I demand! Justice and Revenge alike direct me, +and their united voice shall be obeyed. + +_Falkner_ (_enters suddenly._) They shall! behold me here, thou +miscreant, to urge it! justice and revenge you call for, and they shall +both fall heavily upon you. + +_Sir. R._ Falkner! + +_O'Ded._ What! Abel Grouse, Mr. Falkner! here's a transmogrification for +you! + +_Sir R._ How! Falkner and the unknown cottager the same person! + +_Falk._ Ay, sir; the man who cautioned you today in vain; who warned you +of the precipice beneath your feet, and was unheeded by you-- + +_Sir R._ Amazement! what would you have me do? + +_Falk._ Before this company assist me with the power you possess (and +that power is ample) to compel your haughty nephew to repair the injury, +which, in a humbler character, he has done me-- + +_Lord A._ He compel me! ridiculous! + +_Falk._ (_to sir Rowland._) Insensible to injury and insult, can nothing +move you? _Reveal your secret!_ + +_Lord A._ I'll hear no more. Summon the officers I say. I am resolved. + +_Sir R._ I too am at last resolved! at length the arm is raised that, in +descending must crush you. + +_Lord A._ I despise your united threats! am I to be the sport of +insolence and fraud? _What_ am I, sir, that thus you dare insult me! Who +am I? + +_Sir R._ No longer the man you seem to be! hear me! before grief and +shame shall burst my heart, hear me proclaim my guilt! When the late +lord Austencourt dying bequeathed his infant son to my charge, my own +child was of the same age! prompted by the demons of ambition, and +blinded to guilt by affection for my own offspring--_I changed the +children._ + +_Charles._ Merciful Heaven! + +_Sir R._ (_to lord A._) Hence it follows that you, unnatural monster, +are my son! + +_Sir W._ Ods life! Hey! then there is something in the world to astonish +me, besides the reformation of my lady Worret. + +_Lord A._ Shallow artifice! Think you I am weak enough to credit this +preposterous fiction, or do you suppose the law will listen to it? + +_Falk._ Ay, sir; the law _will_ listen to it, _shall_ listen to it. _I_, +sir, can prove the fact, beyond even the hesitation of incredulity! + +_Lord A._ You! + +_Falk._ I. You have seen me hitherto a poor man and oppressed me; you +see me now rich and powerful, and well prepared to punish your villany; +and thus, in every instance, may oppression recoil on the oppressor. + +_Lord A._ Then I am indeed undone! + +_O'Ded._ Shall I call the officers now, my lord? Mr. Austencourt, I +should say; I ask pardon for the blunder: and now, ladies and gentlemen, +be pleased to hear me speak. This extraordinary discovery is just +exactly what I _did not_ expect. It is true I had a bit of a discovery +of my own to make: for I find that the habits of my profession though +they haven't led me to commit acts of knavery, have too often induced me +to _wink_ at them. Therefore as his quandam lordship has now _certainly_ +lost Miss Helen, I hope he'll have no objection to do justice in another +quarter. [_Exit._ + +_Sir R._ Oh, Charles! my much injured nephew! how shall I ever dare to +look upon you more? + +_Charles._ Nay, nay, sir, I am too brimful of joy at my opening +prospects here (_taking Helen's hand_) to cherish any other feeling than +forgiveness and good humour. Here is my hand, sir, and with it I pledge +myself to oblivion of _all_ the past, except the acts of kindness I have +received from you. + +_Sir W._ That's a noble generous young dog--My lady Worret, I wonder +whether he'll offer to marry Helen now? + +_Lady W._ Of course, after what has passed, you'll think it decent to +refuse for a short time: but you are the best judge, sir Willoughby, and +your will shall in future be mine-- + +_Sir W._ Shall it--that's kind--then I _will_ refuse him to please you: +for when you're so reasonable, how can I do otherwise than oblige you. + +_Lady W._ (_aside._) Leave me alone to manage him still. + + _Enter_ O'Dedimus, _introducing_ Fanny. + +_Lord A._ (_seeing Fanny._) Ah, traitor! + +_O'Ded._ Traitor back again into your teeth, my master! and since you've +neither pity for the poor innocent, nor compassion for the little blunt +gentleman her father, 'tis time to spake out and to tell you that +instead of a sham priest and a sham license for your deceitful marriage +as you bid me, _I_ have sarved the cause of innocence and my own soul, +by procuring a _real_ priest and a _real_ license, and by St. Patrick +you are as much _one_ as any _two_ people in England, Ireland, or +Scotland! + +_Fanny._ Merciful powers! there is still justice for the unfortunate! + +_Lord A._ (_after a conflict of passion._) And is this really so? + +_O'Ded._ You're _man_ and _wife_, sure enough. We've decent proof of +this, too, sir. + +_Lord A._ You no doubt expect this intelligence will exasperate me. 'Tis +the reverse. By heaven it lifts a load of guilty wretchedness from my +heart. + +_Fanny._ Oh, my lord! my husband! + +_Falk._ Can this be genuine? Sudden reformation is ever doubtful. + +_Lord A._ It is real! my errors have been the fruits of an unbridled +education. Ambition dazzled me, and wealth was my idol. I have acted +like a villain, and as my conduct has deserved no forgiveness, so will +my degradation be seen without compassion; but this weight of guilt +removed, I will seek happiness and virtue in the arms of my much-injured +Fanny. + +_Fanny._ Silent joy is the most heartfelt. I cannot speak my happiness! +My father! + +_Falk._ This is beyond my hopes; but adversity is a salutary monitor. + +_Sir R._ Still, Charles, to you I am indebted beyond the power of +restitution. + +_Char._ My dear father--no--no dear uncle, I mean, here is the reward I +look for. + +_Helen._ Ah, Charles--my lord, I mean, I beg pardon--to be sure papa, +ay, and mamma-in-law too, will now no longer withhold their consent. + +_Sir W._ Who, me? Not for the world--hey! mercy on us! I forgot your +ladyship (_aside_) do you wish me to decline the honor? + +_Lady W._ (_aside._) Why no, as matters have turned out. + +_Char._ Then Fortune has indeed smiled on me today! + +_Falk._ The cloud of sorrow is passed, and may the sun of joy that now +illumines my face, diffuse its cheering rays on all around us. + +_O'Ded._ And sir Willoughby and her ladyship will smile most of us all; +for every body knows they're the happiest man and wife among us. + +_Helen._ And while amongst ourselves we anxious trace + The doubtful smile of joy in every face, + There _is_ a smile, which doubt and danger ends---- + The smile of approbation from our friends. + +THE END. + + + * * * * * + * * * * + +Errors and Inconsistencies: Man and Wife + + Spellings were changed only when there was an unambiguous error, + or the word occurred elsewhere with the expected spelling. + Where names in stage directions were inconsistently italicized, they + have been silently regularized. Some minor punctuation inconsistencies + have also been silently corrected. + +_Unchanged:_ + barbacued [barbecued] + befal [befall] + fulful [fulfil] + head ach [head ache] + vixin [vixen] + +_Corrections:_ + Lady Worret [twice spelt Worrett] + Abel Grouse's cottage [Grouses's] + The wrongs of Abel Grouse [Growse] + and no biscuit aboard [buiscuit] + as mine is the biggest, perhaps yours [bigest, perhaps your's] + However I do not despair [do no despair] + the attorney in our town [at-attorney: mis-hyphenated at end of line] + housekeeper [occurs with and without hyphenation] + Yes, sir, your presence does astonish me [you presence] + when it lost you, its dearest only friend [it's] + Hey! ods life, I must sooth her [odslife] + Ods life! I'm in a furious passion! [Odslife] + I must be in a passion--my--life--harkye, daughter [karkye] + harkye, young woman [karkye] + Heigho! with such an example before my eyes [Heighho] + heigho! she's a false, deceitful--dear, bewitching girl [heighho] + In Act III, Scene III is named Scene II in the original + +_Apostrophes:_ + In the original, apostrophes are used or omitted inconsistently in + several words: a'nt, cant, dont, had'nt, hav'nt, havn't, is'nt, + musn't, shant and would'nt. These have all been regularized. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic +Censor, by Samuel James Arnold + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRROR OF TASTE, DRAMATIC CENSOR *** + +***** This file should be named 26628.txt or 26628.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/6/2/26628/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Nigel Blower, Bill Tozier and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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