but on this occasion he could procure only half that sum, for the victims of ministerial oppression in Ireland.

The last performance of the season is always attended with some sort of ceremony, and the manager generally delivers a farewell address to the public. The audience was, consequently, very much disappointed at Drury Lane, this year, when the curtain was seen to fall without Elliston having made his appearance. "The address !--the address!" was vociferated from every quarter, and the most violent uproar ensued. At length Cooper presented himself, and after bowing very respectfully, he addressed the audience in a short speech, commencing with "Ladies and Gentlemen;" for the English, on these occasions, are more polite than we, who invariably say, "Messieurs et Mesdames." After stating that Elliston was confined at home by severe indisposition, he returned thanks to the public, in the name of his brother performers, and withdrew.

A mixture of applause and disapprobation followed this address. Mr. Elliston has not performed during the whole season, so that I have had no opportunity of judging of his merits as an actor, which have been highly complimented by Lord Byron in one of his works.

The annual address was delivered in due form at the closing of Covent Garden Theatre. Mr. Fawcett, who, by the bye, is a very agreeable actor, reminded the audience that nothing had been neglected to give them satisfaction, and as

sured them that the vacation would be employed in justifying the preference which his theatre had obtained over Drury Lane ;-that is to say, some of the actors will go to the country theatres, and the rest will perform, during the remainder of the summer, at the Haymarket, the English Opera House, &c.

LETTER XXXV.

TO M. P. BLAIN.

THOUGH I have not yet said a word about Dowton, Terry, Emery, Munden, Knight, or Miss Kelly, I think I have already mentioned a sufficient number of clever actors to shew, that the London theatres possess a powerful host of comic genius.

The distinguished authors of the present day have, therefore, no excuse for not writing for the stage. There is, indeed, no want of dramatic talent among contemporary writers. Many works of recent production seem to want only the dramatic form, to render them worthy of comparison with the master-pieces of Shakspeare and Ben Jonson. Sir Walter Scott possesses, in a singular degree, all the necessary qualifications for a dramatic author. His profound knowledge of the

human heart, and of mankind in general, his shrewd observation of the most secret operations of the mind, his acquaintance with the peculiar habits and customs of different periods, the facility with which he pourtrays characters the most opposite, his power of inventing an inexhaustible variety of affecting and comic situations, and the truth, energy, and spirit of his dialogue, all prove that his talent is admirably adapted to dramatic literature. Yet Sir Walter Scott has been himself at the pains of undeceiving those who seemed to look forward to him as the future Molière of Great Britain.

No English dramatic author, since Sheridan and Cumberland, has produced any work of sterling merit.

Mrs. Inchbald, the pleasing authoress of "The Simple Story," has produced mere milk and water comedies; for though they have the merit of pleasingly inculcating morality and generous philanthropy, they are, upon the whole, destitute of originality and comic fancy. Mrs. Cowley is even inferior to her, in spite of the success of her "Belle's Stratagem." General Burgoyne is more famous for his military disasters than for the merits of his "Heiress," the idea of which was borrowed from Diderot. In addition to a tolerable share of spirit in the dialogue, it possesses more elegance than English pieces in general, and this is the only praise that can be conceded to it. Prince-Hoare, Holcroft, Morris, Cobb, and O'Keefe, fill only a middle rank in the list of dra

matic authors.

O'Keefe, indeed, is merely a

writer of farces. I fear Frederick Reynolds, too, must have a similar place assigned him, though his first piece, "The Dramatist," was intended as a satire on the bad taste of that class of writers. Mrs. Inchbald insinuates, that he has drawn his own character in that of the poet Vapid, who, in his attempts at comic situations, invariably falls into the burlesque. Lewis's acting gave a degree of originality to this insipid character; but the piece died with him, and the same fate attended the productions of Thomas Morton. I must put in a saving clause, however, for the two first acts of the comedy of " Speed the Plough," which unfortunately degenerates into melo-drama in the three last. In this play, at least, Morton's humour is original, and never fails to entertain the audience. He has drawn a pleasing picture of national manners, together with several highly comic characters. Ashfield and his wife introduce us into the family of an English farmer. Sir Abel Handy and his son are excellent personifications of that mania for improvements, which, like all other good things, may be turned to abuse. The ingenious Dean of St. Patrick would readily have given these originals a place in his Academy of Laputa. In the rest of his dramas, however, Morton, like Reynolds and Holcroft, substitutes burlesque jargon for the language of comedy; and all the wit of the principal character consists in the eternal repetition of some cant phrase which may possibly excite laughter the first time it is

uttered. Emery succeeded Lewis in the task of supporting Morton and Reynolds's comedies; but this admirable performer gives a totally new colouring to the characters he represents, and impresses on them the stamp of his own originality.

I should wish to speak of George Colman with less severity, out of respect to the name he bears. "The Jealous Wife" and "The Clandestine Marriage" are comedies of first-rate merit. The elder Colman did not owe his success to low buffoonery. He did not aim at a display of showy antitheses, or at exciting surprise by the extravagance of his characters and incidents. Even his most trivial productions are interesting and amusing, from their ease, truth to nature, and agreeable vein of satire. But the son has rarely followed the example of the father. He fell into the mistake of fancying himself a man of genius, and by attempting to embrace every different style of dramatic composition, he has at length confounded them altogether. His plays are a jumble of tragedy, comedy, drama, farce, and opera. Even in his most serious productions he avails himself of Figaro's hint: Ce qui ne vaut pas etre dit, on le chante; or, as the English couplet expresses it, "If you can't get along

You may throw in a song."

Colman has never produced one genuine drama, either pathetic or comic. Sometimes, indeed, a moving scene, a fragment of humorous dialogue, or a noble sentiment expressed with energy and