by Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset, Lord Buckhurst, the original contriver of the Mirrour for Magistrates; it is written in blank verse, and clothed in all the formalities of a regular tragedy. It was not intended for publication; but being surreptitiously and fraudulently printed in the year 1585, with the consent, and under the inspection of the author, a correct edition was printed in 1571. In the dramatic conduct of this piece, Mr. Warton observes, "the unities of time and action are eminently and visibly violated, a defect which Shakspeare so frequently commits, but which he covers by the magic of his poetry." "Our tragedies and comedies," says Sir Philip Sydney, in his Defence of Poesie, not without cause, cried out against, observing rules, neither of honest civilitie nor skilful poetrie. Excepting Gorboducke, (againe I say of those that I have seene) which, notwithstanding, as it is full of stately speeches, and well sounding phrases, climing to the heighth of Seneca his stile, and as full of notable moralitie, which it doth most delightfully teach, and so obtain the very end of poesie. Yet in truth it is very defectious in the circumstances, which grieves me, because it might not remain as an exact modell of tragedies. For it is faultie both in place and time, the two necessarie companions of all corporal actions. For where the stage should alway represent but one place, and the uttermost time presupposed as it should be, both by Aristotle's precept, and common reason; but one day, there are both many days and many places inartificially imagined; but if it be so in Gorboducke, how much more in all the rest? where you shall have Asia on the one side, and Affricke on the other; and so many other under kingdoms, that the plaier when he comes in, must even begin with telling where he is, or else the tale will not be conceived. Now shall you have three ladies walke to gather flowers, and then wee must beeleve the stage to be a garden. By and by wee heare news of shipwracke in the same place, then we are to blame if wee accept it not for a rocke. Upon the backe of that comes out a hideous monster with fire and smoke, and then the miserable beholders are bound to take it for a cave: while in the mean time two armies flie in, represented with foure swords and bucklers, and then what hard heart will not receive it for a pitched field?" ANECDOTE OF THE CELEBRATED RICOBINI, who belonged to the Italian theatre in Paris, upon a visit to London in the year 1715, on seeing SPILLAR, the celebrated actor of that day, in the character of an Old Man. WHEN I was in London, a thing happened, which for its singularity deserves notice. At the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn fields I saw a comedy, taken from the Crispin Medicis. He who acted the old man, executed it to the nicest perfection, which one could expect in no player who had not had forty years' experience and exercise. I was not at all astonished in one respect, but I was charmed to find another, Mr. Guerim, that excellent comedian, master of the company at Paris, whom we had the misfortune to lose in our time. I was mistaken in my opinion that a whole age could not produce such another, when in our time I found his match in England, with the same art, and with talent as singular. As he played the part of an old man, I made no matter of doubt of his being an old comedian, who, instructed by long experience, and at the same time assisted by the weight of years, had performed it so naturally. But how great was my surprise, when I learnt that he was a young man about the age of twenty-six! I could not believe it, but I owned it might be possible, had he only used a trembling and broken voice, and had only an extreme weakness possessed his body; because I conceived it possible for a young actor, by the help of art, to imitate that debility of nature to such a pitch of exactness: but the wrinkles of his face, his sunk eyes, and his loose and yellow cheeks, the most certain marks of great old age, were incontestible proofs of what they said to me. Notwithstanding all this, I was forced to submit to truth, because I knew for certain, that the actor, to fit himself for the part of this old man, spent an hour in dressing himself, and disguising his face so nicely, and painted so artificially a part of his eye-brows and eye-lids, that at a distance of six paces it was impossible not to be 'deceived. I was desirous of being a witness of this myself, but pride hindered me, knowing that I must be ashamed of the confirmation of it from the other actors. DRAMATIC AUTHORS.* MR. THOMPSON, the actor at the Haymarket theatre, waited upon Sir Richard Birnie, on the 17th ult., to know if he could take any steps to compel Mr. Barrymore, of Drury Lane theatre, to give any account and share the profits of two dramatic pieces written by him (Mr. Thompson) and brought out through the medium of Mr. Barrymore, the one at Drury Lane theatre, and the other at the Surrey. The piece brought out at the latter theatre was called Jack Robinson, and that which came out at Drury Lane was named The Dumb Savoyard. Mr. Elliston had payed Mr. Barrymore 50l. for the first piece, and he received from Mr. Price 54l. for the latter. Mr. Barrymore had refused to give him a farthing of the profits, although both pieces were entirely his own production.-Sir R. Birnie observed, that such conduct on the part of Mr. Barrymore was very shameful, and advised that he should apply to Mr. Price.-Mr. Thompson replied that he had done so, and learned from him the sum which he had paid to Mr. Barrymore for The Dumb Savoyard.—Sir R. Birnie: "What does Mr. Elliston say?"-Mr. Thompson: "I have in my pocket a very kind letter from Mr. Elliston, saying that Jack Robinson had a great run at his theatre, and stating the price which he paid to Mr. Barrymore for it."—Sir R. Birnie: "Does Mr. Barrymore deny your claim?"-Mr. Thompson: "Oh, no; he acknowledges the debt, but says he has not, as yet, received the money. Now I know that to be false, because I am assured, both by Mr. Price and Mr. Elliston, that he was paid by them. I gave the pieces to Mr. Barrymore, because I knew his interest was much better than mine, and he undertook to get them out and share the profits with me. I then * The Edinburgh Review may justly state, that no man of real talent will write for the stage. وو my went to Paris, where I was quite delighted to learn that both pieces had been so favourably received; but behold! when I wished to touch the profits, I found them melt from my grasp like the golden. fruit in the fable.-Mr. Halls said it was a most dishonourable action on the part of Mr. Barrymore.--Sir R. Birnie: "You must proceed, I am afraid, by civil action.' "Then I fear I may go whistle for the money," said Mr. Thompson.-Sir R. Birnie expressed his regret that Mr. Thompson had no better prospect of a successful issue to his suit." It is the way of the world, Sir Richard," said Mr. Thompson. "Some men are made to prey upon the wits of others. Mr. Barrymore has had the reputation of producing dramatic pieces of his own composing; but what is the fact? Why, he has been wearing the laurels and pocketing the money of poor devils like myself."-" Such conduct, I must say," said Sir R. Birnie," is most unprincipled."- "There are two of us who compose pieces for Drury-lane," said Mr. Thompson; one is a knave, and the other is a fool; from what you have heard, you will have no difficulty in fixing upon the first, and I am afraid that the fool's cap will fit myself." Mr. Thompson having thanked the magistrates for their kind attention, bowed and withdrew. 66 Mr. W. Barrymore has contradicted, in the strongest terms, the above statement made to his prejudice by Mr. Thompson. He intends to prosecute for defamation. He says-the charge, " if it were true, would justify the worthy magistrate in designating such conduct shameful and unprincipled;' and as I most positively deny every part of the statement, both with respect to Mr. Thompson being the author of the pieces, and that he has never received a farthing of the profits, I trust that will be sufficient to clear my character from such a foul aspersion, until the public be put in possession of the whole facts of the case, by an action at law for defamation and slander." Mr. Thompson has written a reply to Mr. Barrymore's letter, in which he says-" Mr. Barrymore denies my being the author of the pieces which he has had performed as his own. I beg to say that 'author' is not the proper term-' manufacturer' would be more correct; he is the master-I am only the journeyman; he furnished the raw material,' which I wove in my mental loom (rather a weak machine, perhaps) till it appeared that flimsy article called The Dumb Savoyard, and which was played fifty-four nights at Drury-lane. My journeyman's wages were regularly paid, to the enormous amount of one shilling and elevenpence farthing per night-(a fact).—What my master received, I never could learn-but I have rebelled, and demand ' share' of the market price, and I wish I may get it.' my DR. DODD'S INTENTION OF BECOMING A DRAMATIST. TO THE EDITOR OF THE DRAMATIC MAGAZINE. SIR,-I enclose you a curious anecdote respecting the late Dr. Dodd, who, though he was not a dramatist, had the intention of becoming one (as you will perceive); I think you may allow it a place in your very entertaining work. Your constant Reader, J. F. C. "The day after the doctor was convicted at the Old Bailey of the crime for which he afterwards suffered, he sent a note to Mr. William Woodfall, the original printer of the Morning Chronicle, requesting the favour of speaking to him on a very particular subject. Woodfall, who could never hesitate on a question of active and disinterested friendship, hastened to Newgate on the very morning of receiving the invitation. "On entering the apartment where the doctor sat, he found it impossible to avoid taking some notice of his unhappy situation; but as he was commiserating it in an embarrassed, sympathizing manner, the doctor, with great apparent composure, interrupted him by saying, O! Mr. Woodfall, this is not the business I sent for you about. Sit down, and I will explain. Though I have not the pleasure of personally knowing you, I am not unacquainted with the line of your professional business; which, I understand, engages you much in the habits of the theatres, the managers, and theatrical pursuits in general. I likewise have a particular respect for your judgment in those matters; and on this account, I think you can be of some service to me.'-Here the other offering his civilities, the doctor proceeded. You must know, then, that being in my earlier days, like yourself, a lover of the drama, I sketched out a comedy, the hint of which I took from the story of Sir Roger de Coverley, in the Spectator. This piece I have finished, since my residence in Newgate; and if you will be so good as to revise it, and give me your interest with the manager, I shall feel myself much obliged to you.' "Mr. Woodfall, finding himself relieved by the conference taking so different and unexpected a turn, instantly acceded to this proposal, took the manuscript away with him, suggested some alterations, which the doctor readily complied with, and afterwards corresponded with him on this subject till the week before his execution." SHERIDAN. His wife's voice and the opera of the Duenna were the foundation stones of Sheridan's fame. He drew the plan of that successful drama from an old Italian novel, and, having finished it, was perpetually dunning the manager of Covent Garden to bring it out at his theatre; but for a considerable time without effect. Mr. Harris at length one day said to him, "Well, I am going down to Hampton Court to dine with Mr. Brummell, who, you know, is a judge of dramatic literature; you shall go with me, and take your opera in your pocket." This being carried into effect, and dinner over, Mr. Sheridan was called upon by the judges to read this opera. After a preface, enumerating the manifest disadvantages which a piece of the operatic kind must labour under in a bare recital, he began to read the performance; but had proceeded no great length, when the critics began to yawn; he, however, courageously persevered, and they preserved their patience with equal resolution, now and then encouraging him with a "well! and so?" and "what next?" until he arrived at the friars' scene, when they suddenly stopped him, with "Pshaw! pshaw! Mr. Sheridan, is it possible you can be mad enough to conceive, that an audience would swallow such a damned absurdity as a company of friars singing a song!!! Zounds, Sir! the people would rise, tear up the benches, and hurl them at the chandeliers." Upon this Mr. Sheridan coolly put his opera up in his pocket, with this observation, "Either you, gentlemen, are, or I am, a damned blockhead." On the first night this unfortunate-fortunate piece was within a hair's breadth of a second, of a public, as well as a private damnation, and Leoni was so alarmed at the reception which he met with in the first act, that it was absolutely necessary to push him on, by main force, in the second; but when they came to the friars' scene it was received with such bursts of applause, that all apprehensions vanished, and the opera has been ever since esteemed as the best in the stock of Covent Garden house. It was reported to have redeemed the theatre from a state of bankruptcy!! BEGGAR'S OPERA. GIBBON has an observation on the Beggar's Opera, which, whether just or not, is ingenious: "It has," said he, "had a beneficial effect in refining highwaymen, and making them less ferocious, more polite, in short, more like gentlemen." Mr. Courtenay, on hearing this, said, "Then Gay was the Orpheus of highwaymen.' When Mrs. Farrel played the part of Macheath, in 1777, at Covent Garden, there was a curious alteration made, on the suggestion of the moral Leffingham, at the end of the opera, by introducing a scene of Woolwich Reach, with the Hulk, and the hero entered as under sentence of three years' imprisonment to heave ballast, while the rival females were introduced to take leave, and a promise of marriage to Polly at the expiration of the sentence. A chorus song concluded, having for burthen, The wicked to-day may be virtuous to-morrow. 1768, VERSUS 1829. WHY sleeps the Comic Muse? the critics cry, And has sly Satire nothing left to do? "None of all this;" say those who rule the stage, THE LATE MR. HULL. MR. HULL, who was for several years Deputy Manager of Covent Garden Theatre, always valued himself upon his address at making apologies to the public for the accidental calamities of the evening; and this habit was so deeply rooted in his nature, that when the fanatic mob assailed his house in the time of the ever memorable riots in June, 1780, in order to appease their rage he sent them out a barrel of table beer, untapped, which they, imagining to be porter, instantly drew the bung; but expressing much resentment at the deceit, and throwing some stones at the comedian's mansion, he K K |