mind, and affords me something like momentary

ease.

I resume my letter to tell you, that my late publishers, acquainted with the total failure of those hopes which led me again to London, have agreed to give me a small sum per sheet for a little volume of Juvenile Poems, which I am on my return to compose. I am likewise to write a Tragedy, for which they consider my style of composition well adapted: this piece they will present to Drury-Lane, and use every interest they can possibly make to get it brought out this coming season. You may therefore expect me very shortly once more at the hermitage.

I am, dear Maria,

Your affectionate

SYLVATICUS.

LETTER LXXXIX.

L- Cottage.

DEAR FRANK,

I AM happy to hear of your safe arrival at Paris, and of the advance you make in your professional pursuits. I should have written long before, if I had had anything but misery to impart.

On my return to L, after we separated in London, what was my surprise to find that the master of the Roman Catholic charity-school in this village, from whom two or three Protestant children had been removed to be placed with me, had during my absence thrown open his school free to all sects: and instigated by a spirit of revenge and opposition to me, had meanly solicited the parents of my pupils to send them to him. This was indeed a heavy blow: and now the climax of my disappointments and wretchedness was wrought up to the height of despair ;-the cup of misery seemed filled to the brim.

This man, Frank, was a navy lieutenant, and had been recently appointed to this school, never before open to any but Catholic children. He

VOL. III,

D

received half-pay from Government, and bad a fixed and respectable salary for these his new duties. Added to this, a good house, fuel, and keep for a cow were provided him free of expense, with many advantages besides. Yet was he not content with all this: he strove to take from me the little bread of sorrow which I had left to supply the cravings of hunger, and but too well succeeded; while his triumph seemed complete, when he had driven me and my little family to the very verge of absolute want and misery!

I soon lost nearly all my pupils, and, brokenhearted and spiritless, fell almost into the stupor of despair. But one night, as I lay ruminating on my sleepless pillow, I fancied I heard some one bid me to arise, shake off the lethargy of grief, and exert my abilities. I leaped from my bed, and paced to and fro the room. Suddenly the Tragedy, which I was to write, started to my mind. I formed the greater part of the plot of E that night, and the next day sat down to write. I composed day and night: never did I experience so great a flow of imagination. finished the piece in five weeks.

I

Having submitted it to the perusal of a friend of mine, a good, sound critic, I have received from him the following letter, which I copy for your

perusal, as I know such things interest and afford you pleasure.—

"DEAR SIR,

I HAVE perused your play, yet in so cursory a manner, *(for want of time) as to be scarcely able at present to give you a decided opinion of its merits, But as you expressed yourself desirous of hearing something from me, I will note down all so hasty a reading allowed

to occur.

The language is generally good, and in very many instances excellent: your plot is simple, and unexpectedly winds itself to an interesting climax; and with the aid of a good representation, I should think would not fail to attract and interest. The part of E-f is most striking, and I cannot help observing that it is particularly well calculated for Kean; and in the event of its being brought out at "good old Drury," if he should feel disposed to give it the assistance of his powerful talents, is perhaps alone sufficient to command success. Ea is likewise an excellent part, not a whit inferior to the proud Earl.

strikingly well served.

Master Ln is

Having thus briefly noticed some of the beauties of your piece, I must as candidly refer you to what, in my humble opinion, may be called its defects; which, while I suppose such to exist, are so few and so completely eclipsed by the superior refulgence of their opposites, as not to call for particular notice, except as

in a confidential communication from a friend anxious for its success. And if we can thereby contrive to rob criticism of its venom, we may fearlessly meet its effects, however vindictively directed.

In the first place, I am fearful you have much exceeded the usual length of a tragedy,-I mean in the number of lines,—and perhaps this may be dangerous. Your use of expletives is rather too frequent; and if I do not mistake, the same idea obtrudes itself a second time. These are faults, however, which may easily be remedied by a careful revision. We often see, upon the representation of a successful piece, the second performance announced with the observation, that " a judicious curtailment " has removed some defects, and cemented more closely its several beauties. Now if this could be effected at once, why all the better, and with this view, I have marked a few passages. May not, also, some of the long speeches of A-e be curtailed with advantage? There seems a sameness in some of them, that although abstractedly good, would well bear the operation of the pruning knife. With regard to Er, I think it would be more dramatic for him to fall as a sacrifice to the cruel rites of the Danes, than to return merely to die by his own hand. Ant he does not come early enough to catch even faint sigh of his love, nor contribute at all to rest of the grand catastrophe, I do not see why ury of stabl himself should be reserved to

ay be suffered to destroy him