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MRS. MOUNTAIN.

Lo! Mountain comes with simple grace array`d,
She laughs at paltry arts, and scorns parade:
Nature through her is by reflection shewn,✨-
Whilst Gay once more knows Polly for his own.
Mr. PACKER.

Were it not a shame

To fright a king so harmless and so tame.

MR. LACY.

Higher than all the rest see Lacy strut,

A mighty Gulliver in Lilliput.

Ludicrous Nature! which at once could shew

A man so very high so very low.

SECUNDUS APOLLO.

ORIGINAL ANECDOTES

RESPECTING

THE STAGE, AND THE ACTORS OF THE OLD SCHOOL.

WITH REMARKS ON

MR. MURPHY'S LIFE OF GARRICK.”

BY TATE WILKINSON, ESQ.

[Concluded from page 124, Vol. XIII.]

I MUST remark, that I could not help chuckling, when I read that the beautiful Lady Coventry waited on Garrick, in her carriage, and presented him with the play of Virginia; and that Garrick, struck with wonder at her beauty ("Those eyes that tell us what the sun is made of,") obeyed her ladyship, as if she had been a tenth muse, and prepared the piece with the utmost dispatch.*

*The Rev. Mr. Crisp, who wrote the play, seems to have been a scholar and a man of taste. He was related to, or patronized by, Lord Coventry. His Countess, the celebrated beauty of that day, as Garrick often related, drove to his house, and sent in word that she had a moment's business. He went to the side of her carriage, "There, Mr. Garrick," said Lady Coventry, "I put into your hands a play, which the best judges tell me will do honour to you and the author." It was not necessary for her to say more: "Those eyes that tell us what the sun is made of," as Dr. Young says in one of his tragedies, had all the power of persuasion, and even of command; Garrick obeyed, as if she had been a tenth muse, and prepared the play with the utmost dispatch, Murphy's Lifen Vol. I. p 246.

This may be true, but I can prove that Garrick, notwithstanding his being so awe-struck, did not let slip an opportunity of tickling up her ladyship in his epilogue to this very play. Mr. Murphy must recollect that the universal toast, Lady Coventry, though passionately fond of plays, and an almost never-failing attendant at the theatre, often suffered her levity to get the better of decorum, even when a tragedy was acting, and every spectator dissolved in tears by the affecting performance of Garrick and Mrs. Cibber, and too frequently (like Lady Townly) “talk'd louder than the players." One night, she was so vociferous, and laughed out so loud at Covent Garden theatre, (the same season that Virginia was produced at Drury Lane) when Mrs. Bellamy, in the character of Juliet, was repeating the soliloquy previous to her drinking the Friar's potion, that the actress, unable to keep the stage, quitted it in much consternation and distress; on which the audience, filled with indignation, would not suffer the play to proceed until Lady Coventry and her whole party entirely left the stage-box and the theatre. The lines in the epilogue, most evidently pointed at Lady C. were the following→→

"May I approach unto the boxes, pray,

"And there search out a judgment on the play?
"In vain, alas! I shou'd attempt to find it—

"Fine ladies see a play, but never mind it !”

The satire was instantaneously felt, nor could her ladyship but be sensible that she deserved the full force of the just rebuke.

The Mistake was revived for Mr. Woodward's benefit, March 1755, not for Mrs. Pritchard's. But the run was not great,† as my collection informs me: it was not acted the season following, 1755 6, until so late as Tuesday, March 30th, for the benefit of Mr. Beard, with the Masque of Britannia, and Garrick's sailor's epilogue. I will also dare to hint, that I believe the account in my Memoirs, relative to my good friend, Mr. King's first performance of Lord Ogleby, is the most correct of the two; but I leave Mr. King to decide between us. I cannot resist a little anecdote here,

* When it was ready to be presented before the public, Garrick deferred it to the month of March, with a generous design to give the first night to Mrs. Pritchard. Murphy's Life, vol. I. p. 273.

The play was often-repeated during the remainder of the season. Ib. p. 275.

that I believe is not known, but which is, however, an indisputable fact. Mr. Garrick, whenever he wished to ensure secresy, always ́solemnly pronounced "swear! Will you swear? Will you take your oath ?"" Yes, Sir," says the actor; on that reply, he immediately went to his book-case, took out a volume of Shakspeare, and presented it to the performer, who kissed it with the utmost solemnity; that ceremony over, the mighty secret was imparted, and trusted to his honour. How apt the relation of one anecdote is to remind us of another: a whimsical situation in which Mrs. Cibber one night found herself, in the character of Juliet, recurs at this moment to my remembrance, which I shall here describe.

Every one knows, that in the play, as written by Shakspere, Juliet, when she wakes, makes use of a dagger which belonged to Romeo; so also, in Otway's Caius Marius, (a bungling alteration from Shakspeare) Lavinia endeavours, in the tomb scene, to kill herself with the sword of young Marius. In Garrick's alteration, Juliet leaves her dagger on the table, to prevent being forced to marry Paris, should the draught not take effect; consequently she has no other resource than the dagger in Romeo's girdle. This practice had continued (and without accident) for several seasons after Garrick's first revival of the piece. But in one of her last seasons at Covent Garden, when playing Juliet with Barry, she fumbled and fumbled, but no dagger was to be found; at last, evidently much distressed, she held up her delicate fist (which was really so) and ideally plunged the weapon to her heart. The audience did not laugh, but applauded, from respect to her talents: but the instant the curtain dropt, laughter prevailed throughout the theatre; and from that night, I believe, Juliet has ever trusted to her own care for that necessary plaything, the dagger. There must be many nurses (who cannot keep secrets) to the Capulet family, now existing, who can vouch whether the custom mentioned prevails in consequence of that unlucky mistake.

And now, patient reader, if I have obtained the attention of any one, two, or three, who think theatrical history worthy of accurate attention, I hope you will kindly allow, that I have not been actuated by any motive of disrespect to Mr. Murphy, who I trust will not be offended by these observations, but accept my best wishes for his health and prosperity, during the remainder of his life.

U U-VOL. XIV,

TATE WILKINSON.

A TALE OF MYSTERY.

A MELODRAME,

BY THOMAS HOLCROFT, ESQ.

By Melodrame we suppose is meant a drama, in which the language, situations, and passions are accompanied and heightened by music. We have had a slight specimen of what might be produced by this conjunction, in Lodoiska, and it constituted one of the charms of that interesting romance. When the Tartars are attacking the castle, the agitation of Baron Lovinski's mind is expressed by the music, which, during the intervals of his soliloquy is introduced with the most pleasing effect. In this MELODRAME, the principle is more strongly applied. The composer tells the story as well as the author. The characters are introduced with appropriate melodies; the progress of the scene is illustrated in a similar way; and` every incident and feeling is marked by correspondent musical expression. In addition to this, the subject of the Tale of Mystery demands the aid of pantomime, and there is also an opportunity for spectacle, and a dance; so that beside the charm of novelty, this entertainment exhibits a combination of every thing that is calculated to please the eye and the ear, and, we may add with strict justice, to gratify the taste, and powerfully to interest the feelings of the public.

The STORY is so extremely interesting, that we think our readers will be pleased with a more particular account than we usually think it necessary to give. The original piece is French, and written by an actor in Paris. Its title there was Seline, or the Maid of Savoy ; but we understand that the alterations and improvements made by Mr. Holcroft are so numerous, that it would be injustice to consider him in the light of a mere translator. Indeed we know that nothing can be transferred from a foreign stage to ours, without as much, and sometimes with more, trouble to the adapter than frequently attends an original production.

Bianchi having fallen in love with a young lady, who favoured the addresses of her brother, Francisco, the latter marries her, privately, and dreading Bianchi's persecution, places her, while pregnant under the protection of a friend residing at Savoy, and soon after disappears. Bianchi having taken possession of his brother's estates, and assumed the name of Count Romalai, eight years after the disappearance of Francisco, proposes to marry his son to Selina, the niece of Bonarmo, whom the sudden death of a brother had long since thrown, with a considerable fortune, upon his care. Bonarmo is not ignorant of a mutual attachment between Selina and his son Stephano, but thinking that the world would impute his encouragement of their passion to a mercenary motive, he readily listens to the overtures of

Romaldi. At this period Francisco, having excited the compassion of Selina and Fiametta, a faithful domestic of Bonarmo's, had ob. tained an asylum in his mansion, and upon enquiring, Bonarmo learns from Fiametta some particulars of his history, which we shall extract® from the printed drama.

"Fiam. It is now seven or eight years ago, when, you having sent me to Chambery, I was coming home. It was almost dark; every thing was still; I was winding along the dale, and the rocks were all as it were turning black, Of a sudden, I heard cries! A man was murdering! I shook from head to foot! Presently, the cries died away; and I beheld two bloody men, with their daggers in their hands, stealing off under the crags at the foot of the mill. I stood like a stone : for I was frightened out of my wits! So I thought I heard groans; and, afeard as I was, I had the sense to think they must come from the poor murdered creature. So I listened, and followed my ears, and presently I. saw this very man

Sel. Francisco?

Fiam. Weltring in his blood! To be sure I screamed and called loud enough for, what could I do by myself? So presently my cries was heard ; and honest Michelli the miller, with his man, came running.

Bona. I now remember the tale. The poor man recovered; and every body praised Michelli.

Fiam. So they ought; he is an honest good soul! What then, Sir, can you suppose I thought, when, about a week ago, I again saw Francisco's apparition standing before me ; making signs that he was famished with hunger and thirst. I knew him at once; and he soon bethought himself of me. If you had seen his clasped hands, and his thankful looks, and his dumb notes, and his signs of joy, at having found me!-While I have a morsel, he shall never want. I'll hire him a cottage; I'll wait upon him; I'll work for him: so turn him out of doors if you have the heart."

Bonarmo has Francisco brought to him, who by writing and ges ticulation, lets him understand that he is a noble Roman, but that his family, having been disgraced, must not be declared ; that he had been betrayed by treachery into the hands of the Algerines, who de-. prived him of speech; and that the authors of this treachery are the same who stabbed him among the rocks. He declares his resolution never to name them, but acknowledges that they are known to Bonarmo, and are rich and powerful. Romaldi is suddenly announced. Francisco starts up and hastens to the door; he meets Romaldi, and in great agitation quits the room. A scene ensues in which Romaldi tries to prevail on Bonarmo to dismiss the stranger from his house. Selina enters, with a letter from Francisco, of which the Count is anxious to prevent the reading. Bonarmo at length opens it, and reads aloud the contents, which are as follow:

"Friend of humanity, should I remain, the peace of your family might be disturbed. I therefore go; but earnestly intreat you will neither think me capable of falsehood nor ingratitude-Whereever I am, my wishes and my heart will be here. Farewel."

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