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Nor yield to Passion's Power ;
Tho' by injurious foes borne down,
My fame, my toil, my hopes o'erthrown,

In one ill-fated hour.
• When robb’d of what I held most dear,
My hands adorn’d the mournful bier

Of her I lov'd so well;
What, when mute sorrow chain'd my tongue,
As o'er the sable hearse I hung,

Forbade the tide to swell?
« 'Twas Patience!... Goddess ever calm !
Oh! pour into my breast thy balm,

That antidote to pain ;
Which flowing from thy nectar'd urn,
By chymistry divine can turn

Our losses into gain.
• When sick and languishing in bed,
Sleep from my restless couch had fled,

*(Sleep, which even pain beguiles,)
What taught me calmly to sustain
A feverish being rack'd with pain,

And dress’d my looks in smiles ?
< 'Twas Patience !... Heaven-descended Maid !
Implor’d, few swiftly to my aid,

And lent her fostering breast ;
Watch'd my sad hours with parent care,
Repelld the approaches of despair,

And sooth'd my soul to rest.
• Say, when dissever'd from his side,
My friend, protector, and my guide,

When my prophetic soul,
Anticipating all the storm,
Saw danger in its direst form,

What could my fears controul ?
s 'Twas Patience!... Gentle Goddess, hcar!
Be ever to thy suppliant near,

Nor let one murmur rise ;
Since still some mighty joys are given,
Dear to her soul, the gifts of Heaven,

The sweet domestic ties.'
Among many desultory remarks, which succeed this part of
the miscellany, we find great pains taken to trace the story on
which the late Lord Orford founded his tragedy of the Mys-
terious Mother. We have met with it in many shapes : but,
as it never appears to have been authenticated in any instance,
we have been inclined to regard it as the invention of some
casuist; from whose impure pages of possible cases, it has crept,

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by the attraction of its horrors, through a great variety of books. Writers of the 15th and 16th century were extremely addicted to the practice of retailing unwarranted stories from each other.

Burger's Leonora; which has obtained some transient popularity, is here supposed to be taken from an old English ballad. We think that the inquiry hardly deserves attention : the national superstitions are very similar; and it requires small exertion of genius, to tell how the devil came in the shape of a young man, and rode away with a fair maiden of low degree. Besides, those who are conversant with books of demonology know that nothing was more common, at one period, than to set ghosts on horseback.

Mr. W. supposes that animal magnetism was founded on the phænomena of the torpedo and electrical cel : its origin, however, can be clearly traced to the reveries of Van Helmont, written before those phænomena were kuown. It was built on the well-known and never failing basis of human credulity, and love of the marvellous.

The author's detached criticisms, though we cannot agree with him in all instances, bear evident marks of reading and ingenuity: but we think that their objects are generally of an inferior kind, and that their importance has been much overrated by Mr. Whyte. They would have appeared to more advantage in the form of separate papers, in some respectable periodical work, than in the consequential shape of a handsome volume.

Fer."

Art. XIII. Memoirs of the Life of Charles Macklin, Esq. princi

pally compiled from his own Papers and Memorandums : which
contain his Criticisms on and Characters and Anecdotes of Better-
ton, Booth, Wilks, Cibber, Garrick, Barry, Mossop, Sheridan,
Foote, Quin, and most of his Contemporaries; together with his
valuable Observations on the Drama, on the Scierrce of Acting,
and on various other Subjects: the Whole forming a comprehensive
but succinct History of the Stage ; which includes a Period of
One Hundred Years. By James Thomas Kirkman, of the Ho.
nourable Society of Lincoln's Inn. 8vo. 2 Vols. 143. Boards.

Lackington. 1799.
ΤΗ His biographer seems to challenge inquiry into the private

character of his hero, when he boldly asserts that " Mr.
Macklin was never sensible that he had occasion to blush at any
part of his conduct. We remember the opinion which the
public had of his professional abilities, for more than fifty
years; and that he was deemed a good actor of particular vila
lanous parts, such as Shylock and lago, in which he was un-
rivalled :—but in respect to the goodness of his heart, and the
general rectitude of his conduct, we recollect no favourable
sentiment.
Rev. Nov. 1799.

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Mr

Mr. Macklin's genealogy is of little consequence to English readers: but his biographer and relation thinks otherwise, and bestows many pages on his birth and parentage. As to educacation, he had none : which was not more owing to the misfortunes of his family, (by adhering to the Stuart party at the reo volution,) than to his own wild disposition and bad conduct. His family name was /*Laughlin, which he afterward changed, to get rid not only of its Paddy appearance but of its harshness. The history of his childhood and adolescence reflects little credit on his memory. He was froward, obstinate, wild, and even ferocious, beyond the bounds of a common Pickle, or unlucky boy. His juvenile tricks are neither amiable nor ingenious, but such as spring from an untutored and vulgar mind.

We are told that he was born two months before the battle of the Boyne, 1640: but Macklin himself always gave a different account, and asserted that he was born in the last year of the last century (1699,: A chronological confusion thus pervades the work:

Macklin's father died in 1704 ; and in 1707, his mother mar. ried a second husband, names O'Mleally. Charles was now, according to his biographer, 17 years old : but no profession appears to have been in contemplation for him. He lived in a perpetual warfare with a tyrannical school-master; and he seems to have learnt nothing but how to plague him, and how to merit and receive punishment with heroic perseverance. Though Mr. K. softers, as much as possible, the juvenile ferocity of his hero, he owns that this hopeful youth at last obtained the nick-name of Charles a Molluchth; or, in English, Wicked Charley

Macklin's first attempt at dramatic representation was at school, in the 18th year of his age, in the character of Monimia, in the Orphan. After this, he ran away from school with two other boys, and went to England: stealing from his mother (who doated on him, and of whom he was very fond) nine pounds to bear his expences; which almost ruined her, and nearly broke her heart. 'One of his compagnons de voyage was hanged soon after their arrival in England. Macklin now becomes a buffoon in an ale-house in the Borough-marries the Jandlady-is forcibly taken from her-is carried back to Ireland-becomes a Badgman in Trinity College till 21 years old goes again to England--forms an intimacy with a company of strollers - acts drolls with them at Hockley in the Hole- is a bruiser, a cudgel-player, and a gambler.

His mother applics to Counsellor Malone to bring him back to Ireland he is found at the Cat and Bagpipes, at Hockley in

the the Hole-goes back, and is again received as Badgman in Trinity College at 26 leaves his mother once more, and goes to England :- first arriving at Bristol, he enters a strolling company there, and begins his career by acting the part of Riche mond, in Richard the III.--Strolls in the west of Englandacts three or four parts in a night, for 5d. or 6.-goes to Wales-is taught English by the wife of a clergyman, who tries to divest him of his country's brogue-is a great fives player-is not received on the London stage till the year 1733.

The biographer now presents a sketch of the history of the stage, from the time of Queen Elizabeth (or rather the pen of Cibber), for 30 pages; during which, Macklin's name is never mentioned. The writer here inserts the beautiful verses of Mr. Sheridan on Garrick; we know not why: as he never al. lows Garrick half the merit which the poet has assigned to him in these lines. We shall speak more on this subject hereafter.

Here the history proceeds slowly. We have Betterton's character, from Cibber and from tradition, at full length ;-and Reflections on the London Cuckolds, a most indecent play, but generally acted on a Lord Mayor’s day, in our own memory.To return to the hero, after having lost sight of him for nearly 60 pages" Lo! where he comes again !" and again we are told that he first distinguished himself on the London stage in 1733

There is a confusion in both the style and the arrangement of this work. The author often repeats what has been said in the preceding page ; vide 130, 131, and 132. At the first of these pages, though we had twice before arrived at the

year 1733, we are now told, for the first time, that M. played the part of Sir John Brute's servant in the Provoked Wife, in 1725, when it first appeared.' The Provoked Wife first appeared in 1697, and was revived in 1725. What a jumble has the biographer made in relating this story! Not only mistaking one year

for another, but one play for another ! He tells us that ó the Provoked Wife being conjectured to be the production in part of Colley Cibber, jointly with Sir John Vanbrugh, a violent party, who were determined to damn the scenes which they supposed to be Cibber's, unluckily mistook Sir John Vanbrugh's part for that of the Laureat, and hissed it most furiously, applauding with equal violence that which was Cibber's.' It was not in the first performance of the Provoked Wife, but of the Provoked Husband, or Journey to London, that this mistake, so disgraceful to the taste and candour of the public, happened.

In 1734, though the hero of the tale had only been a year on the London stage, he was elevated by Mr. Fleetwood, the Pa

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tentee same,

tentee of Drury-Lane Theatre, into the important office of assistant manager : in which character, he was likely to enforce that obedience by the violence of his temper, which his principal was unable to attain by the mildness and reasoning of a gentlema.. The author informs us that Macklin' went by the 11ame of the Wild Irishman;' and in the comic parts which he obtained, Mr. Kirkman says, 'we may conclude that he, at first, a little overstept the modesty of nature; and was delis cient in that chasteness in acting, which he afterward acquired: for we find that Quin, who was very despotic and scurrilous to the inferior actors, was in the habit of censuring him severely, and complaining that there was no such thing as having a chaste scene performed, where Macklin had a part.' As this anecdote, related by Mr. K. in Macklin's own words, will furnish our readers with a better specimen of the coarse language, brutality, and ferocity of the latter, than can be gathered from tradition, or from the delineation of his biographer, we shall bere insert it from the book before us :

• There is an anecdote (says Nir. K.) which Macklin has often related with that lixuriant force of description, which characterised his story telling: -As it happened about the period of the history of the stage at which we are now arrived; and as it may serve to throw some light on the disposition of Cuin, and his unprovoked rudences to the actors, we present it to our readers, irearly in the words of the old gentleman, as he told it, in the year 1787, at the Rainbow Coffee-house', in King street, Covent-Garden, to an acquaintance, who asked him--if 2114 and he had ever quarrr!!!?? Many persons, in the adjoining boxes, attended to the veteran, who spoke, as usual, in a very audible voice; but exhibited, in the course of the narration (as the reader will perceive), strong piouis of the rapid decay of his me. mory :--- Yes, Sir; I was very low in the theatre, as an actor, when the surly fellow was the despot of the place. But, Sir, I had - had a lift, Sir. Yes, I was to play--the-he-the Boy with the red Brecches;-- you know who I mean, Sir-he whose mother is always going to law ;--you know who I mean !"-Jerry Blackacre, I suppose, Sir?'—“Aye, Sir,-fry.-Well, Sir, I began to be a little known to the public, anci, egach, I began to make them laugh ; - I was called the l'ild Irishman, Sir; and was thought to have some fun in me: and I made them laugh beartily at the Boy, Sir-ia Jerry.

“ When I came off the stage, the surly fellow, who played the solding Captain in the play ; Captain-Captain--you know who I mean”. lanly, I believe, Sir?'--" Aye, Sir—the sameManly. Well, Sir, the surly fellow began to scold me, told me I was at my damned tricks; and that there was no having a chaste scene for me. Every body, nay, cyad, the manager himself, was afraid of him.- I was afraid of the fellow, tvo; but not much.--Well, Sir, I told him, that I did not mean to disturb him by my acting ; but to show of a little myself. Well, Sir, in the other scches I did the

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