Small though his talents, smaller than his size,
Beneath your smiles his little Lares rise:
And oh! as Jove once grac'd Philemon's thatch,
Oft of our cottage may you lift the latch!
Oft may we greet you, full of hope and fear,
With hearty welcome, though but homely cheer:
May our old roof its old success maintain,
Nor know the novelty of your disdain !

Colman was, however, very unfortunate in one of his Prologues, which was spoken by Palmer on the opening of the Royalty Theatre, in Wellclose-square, June, 1787, and in which were these lines:

For me, whose utmost aim is your delight,
Accept the humble offering of this night;
To please, wherever plac'd, be still my care,
At Drury, Haymarket, or Wellclose-square.

Now, Colman had threatened Palmer with information, as his theatre was not properly licensed; but George endeavoured to exculpate himself by declaring that he wrote the above lines in consequence of Palmer's asserting that he had sufficient authority, and that as he did not intend to open his theatre in the summer, he could not interfere with the interests of the Haymarket house; whereas Palmer, in contradiction to the promise, opened in June. Nevertheless, it were better that Colman had never written these lines.

THE FIRST NIGHT OF "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER." Goldsmith's friends, who had stood up for the merits of this play, and had been irritated and disgusted by the treatment it had received from the manager, determined to muster their forces on the first night, and give it a good launch upon the town. The particulars of this confederation, and of its triumphant success, are thus amusingly told by Cumberland, in his Memoirs.

"We were not over sanguine of success, but perfectly determined to struggle hard for our author. We accordingly assembled our strength at the Shakspeare Tavern, in a considerable body, for an early dinner, where Samuel Johnson took the chair at the head of a long table, and was the life and soul of the corps: the poet took post silently by his side, with the Burkes, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Fitzherbert, Caleb Whitefoord, and a phalanx of North British predetermined applauders, under the banner of Major Mills, all good men and

true. Our illustrious president was in inimitable glee; and poor Goldsmith that day took all his raillery as patiently and complacently as my friend Boswell would have done any day or every day of his life. In the meantime we did not forget our duty, and though we had a better comedy going, in which Johnson was chief actor, we betook ourselves in good time to our separate and allotted posts, and waited the awful drawing up of the curtain. As our stations were preconcerted, so were our signals for plaudits arranged and determined upon, in a manner that gave every one his cue where to look for them, and how to follow them up.

"We had among us a very worthy and efficient member, long since lost to his friends and the world at large, Adam Drummond, of amiable memory, who was gifted by nature with the most sonorous, and at the same time the most contagious laugh that ever echoed from the human lungs. The neighing of the horse of the son of Hystaspes was a whisper to it; the whole thunder of the theatre could not drown it. This kind and ingenious friend fairly forewarned us that he knew no more when to give his fire, than the cannon did that was planted on a battery. He desired, therefore, to have a flapper at his elbow, and I had the honour to be deputed to that office. I planted him in an upper box, pretty nearly over the stage, in full view of the pit and galleries, and perfectly well situated to give the echo all its play through the hollows and recesses of the theatre. The success of our manœuvre was complete. All eyes were upon Johnson, who sat in a front row of a side box; and when he laughed, everybody thought themselves warranted to roar. In the meantime, my friend followed signals with a rattle so irresistibly comic, that, when he had repeated it several times, the attention of the spectators was so engrossed by his person and performances, that the progress of the play seemed likely to become a secondary object, and I found it prudent to insinuate to him that he might halt his music without any prejudice to the author; but alas! it was now too late to rein him in : he had laughed, upon my signal, where he found no joke, and now, unluckily, he fancied that he found a joke in almost everything that was said, so that thing in nature could be more mal-apropos than some of his bursts every now and then were. These were dangerous moments, for the pit began to take umbrage; but we carried our point through, and triumphed, not only over Colman's judgment, but our own."

The following is one of the many squibs which assailed the ears of the manager:

"TO GEORGE COLMAN, ESQ.,

"On the success of Dr. Goldsmith's new Comedy.

"Come, Coley, doff those mourning weeds,
Nor thus with jokes be flamm'd:
Though Goldsmith's present play succeeds,
His next may still be damn'd.

"As this has 'scaped without a fall,
To sink his next prepare ;

Now actors hire from Wapping Wall,
And dresses from Rag Fair.

"For scenes let tatter'd blankets fly,
The prologue Kelly write;
Then swear again the piece must die
Before the author's night.

"Should these tricks fail, the lucky elf,
To bring to lasting shame,
E'en write the best you can yourself,
And print it in his name.'

The solitary hiss, which had startled Goldsmith, was ascribed by some of the newspaper scribblers to Cumberland himself, who was "manifestly miserable" at the delight of the audience; or to Ossian Macpherson, who was hostile to the whole Johnson clique, or to Goldsmith's dramatic rival, Kelly. following is one of the epigrams which appeared;

The

Another, addressed to Goldsmith, alludes to Kelly's early apprenticeship to staymaking:

"If Kelly finds fault with the shape of your muse,

And thinks that too loosely it plays,

He surely, dear Doctor, will never refuse
To make it a new Pair of Stays!"

SECURING BELIEF.

One evening, at the Literary Club, Colman met Boswell, when the subject turned upon Johnson's Journey to the Western Islands, and of his coming away, "willing to believe in second sight," which seemed to excite some ridicule,

"I was then," (says Boswell,) "so impressed with the truth of many of the stories of which I had been told, that I avowed my convictions, saying, 'He is only willing to believe: I do believe. The evidence is enough for me, though not for his great mind. What will not fill a quart bottle, will fill a pint bottle. I am filled with belief.' said Colman; then cork it up.''

6

A DISTINCTION.

Are you?'

One day, when Colman and his son were walking from Soho-square to the Haymarket, two witlings, Miles Peter Andrews and William Augustus Miles, were coming the contrary way, on the opposite side of the street. They had each sent to Colman a dramatic manuscript for the summer theatre; and being anxious to get the start of each other, in the production of their separate works, they both called out, "Remember, Colman, I am first oar." Humph," muttered the manager, as they passed on, "they. may talk about first oars, but they have not a skull between them." This reminds one of a witticism of Douglas Jerrold's: two conceited young authors were boasting that they rowed in the same boat with a celebrated wit of the day,-"Aye," replied Jerrold, "but not with the same skulls."

66

MACKLIN'S LONG LETTER,

As a specimen of the troublesome correspondence with performers, which a manager has to endure, Mr. Peake has printed in his Memoirs of the Colman Family, the lengthy epistle of old Macklin to Colman the Elder, then a proprietor of Covent-garden Theatre, relative to his comedy of A Man of the World. A diplomatic minister having to arrange a knotty point regarding the division of a large territory, could not have been more guardedly diffuse. It occupies eleven octavo pages of small type; it is a clever controversial epistle, and shows the old fellow with all his early prejudices against managers, and his bitter, sarcastic, uncontrollable spirit; still, he contrives to impress you with the justice of the case. We can imagine the delight of the Manager Colman on coming down to his breakfast-table, probably anticipating a quiet meal, but finding this stupendous packet of woes staring him in the face.

A FRIEND AT COURT.

At one of the public dinners at the Mansion House, during Wilkes's mayoralty, Boswell perceiving George Colman at a loss for a seat, having secured good room for himself, called to him, and gave him a place by his side; remarking at the same time, how important a matter it was to have a Scotchman for his friend at such a table. Shortly after this the two friends were helped to some dish by a waiter, to whom Boswell spoke in German; when Colman observed that he thought he had mistaken the place, adding, 66 I did think I was at the Mansion House, but I am certainly at St. James's, for here are none but Scots and Germans."

PRESSING TO SING.

A young person being hardly pressed to sing in a company where Colman formed one of the party, solemnly assured them that he could not sing; and at last said, rather hastily, "that they only wished to make a butt of him." "O, no," said Colman, "my good sir, we only want to get a stave out of you."

GEORGE COLMAN THE YOUNGER.

This ingenious dramatist was born at Florence, October 21, 1762, and brought to England when an infant. He was much noticed by Garrick, who delighted to play at nine-pins with the child in the garden at Hampton; and David talks of the boy singing the "Chimney-sweep" most exquisitely at the age of five years. Goldsmith used to take him on his knee while drinking his coffee; and Garrick practised upon him a thousand monkey tricks-he was Punch, Harle quin, a cat in the gutter, and then King Lear with a mad touch and lightning of the eye that were terrific. When in petticoats, little George acted a part in the playhouse on Richmond Green. At the age of eight, he was sent to Marylebone School,* then the stepping-stone to Westmin ster. He pleasantly gossips of Dr. Fountain and his bushwig, Dame Fountain and her rainbow-head, and their old

*This noted School was held in the Manor-house of Marylebone, the site of which is now occupied by Devonshire Mews, in the New Road.