enmity of several dramatic authors by the rigour with which he scrutinised their productions. His GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. own plays are far from being strictly correct or The most able and successful comic dramatist moral, but not an oath or double-entendre was sufof his day was GEORGE COLMAN, the younger, fered to escape his expurgatorial pen as licenser, who was born on the 21st of October 1762. The and he was peculiarly keen-scented in detecting son of the author of The Jealous Wife and Clan- all political allusions. Besides his numerous destine Marriage, Colman had a hereditary attach- plays, Colman wrote some poetical travesties ment to the drama. He was educated at West- and pieces of levity, published under the title of minster School, and afterwards entered of Christ's My Nightgown and Slippers (1797), which were Church College, Oxford; but his idleness and afterwards republished (1802) with additions, dissipation at the university led his father to and named Broad Grins; also Poetical Vagaries, withdraw him from Oxford, and banish him to Vagaries Vindicated, and Eccentricities for EdinAberdeen. Here he was distinguished for his burgh. In these, delicacy and decorum are often eccentric dress and folly, but he also applied him- sacrificed to broad mirth and humour. The last self to his classical and other studies. At Aber- work of the lively author was memoirs of his own deen he published a poem on Charles James Fox, early life and times, entitled Random Records, entitled The Man of the People, and wrote a and published in 1830. He died in London on musical farce, The Female Dramatist, which his the 26th October 1836. The comedies of Colman father brought out at the Haymarket Theatre, but abound in witty and ludicrous delineations of it was condemned. A second dramatic attempt, | character, interspersed with bursts of tenderness entitled Two to One, performed in 1784, enjoyed and feeling, somewhat in the style of Sterne, considerable success. This seems to have fixed whom, indeed, he has closely copied in his Poor his literary taste and inclinations; for though his Gentleman. Sir Walter Scott has praised his father intended him for the bar, and entered him John Bull as by far the best effort of our late of Lincoln's Inn, the drama engrossed his atten- comic drama. 'The scenes of broad humour tion. In 1784, he contracted a thoughtless mar- are executed in the best possible taste; and the riage with a Miss Catherine Morris, with whom he whimsical, yet native characters reflect the maneloped to Gretna Green, and next year brought out ners of real life. The sentimental parts, although a second musical comedy, Turk and no Turk. one of them includes a finely wrought-up scene of His father becoming incapacitated by attacks paternal distress, partake of the falsetto of German of paralysis, the younger Colman undertook the pathos. But the piece is both humorous and management of the theatre in Haymarket, and affecting; and we readily excuse its obvious imperwas thus fairly united to the stage and the drama. fections in consideration of its exciting our laughVarious pieces proceeded from his pen: Inkle and ter and our tears.' The whimsical character of Yarico, a musical opera, brought out with success Ollapod in The Poor Gentleman is one of Colman's in 1787; Ways and Means, a comedy, 1788; The most original and laughable conceptions; PanBattle of Hexham, 1789; The Surrender of Calais, gloss, in The Heir at Law, is also an excellent 1791; The Mountaineers, 1793; The Iron Chest- satirical portrait of a pedant-proud of being an founded on Godwin's novel of Caleb Williams— | LL.D., and, moreover, an A. double S.—and his 1796; The Heir at Law, 1797; Blue Beard-a Irishmen, Yorkshiremen, and country rustics-all mere piece of scenic display and music-1798; admirably performed at the time-are highly The Review, or the Wags of Windsor, an excel- entertaining, though overcharged portraits. lent farce, 1798; The Poor Gentleman, a comedy, tendency to farce is indeed the besetting sin of 1802; Love Laughs at Locksmiths, a farce, 1803; Colman's comedies; and in his more serious plays, Gay Deceivers, a farce, 1804; John Bull, a there is a curious mixture of prose and verse, comedy, 1805; Who Wants a Guinea? 1805; high-toned sentiment and low humour. Their We Fly by Night, a farce, 1806; The Africans, a effect on the stage is, however, irresistible. In play, 1808; X Y Z, a farce, 1810; The Law of the character of Octavian, in The Mountaineers, is Java, a musical drama, 1822; &c. No modern a faithful sketch of John Kemble: dramatist has added so many stock pieces to the theatre as Colman, or imparted so much genuine mirth and humour to all playgoers. His society was also much courted; he was a favourite with George IV., and, in conjunction with Sheridan, was wont to set the royal table in a roar. gaiety, however, was not always allied to prudence, and theatrical property is a very precarious possession. As a manager, Colman got entangled in lawsuits, and was forced to reside in the King's Bench. The king stepped forward to relieve him, by appointing him to the situation of licenser and examiner of plays, an office worth from £300 to £400 a year. In this situation Colman incurred the His *Colman added 'the younger' to his name after the condemnation of his play, The Iron Chest. Lest my father's memory,' he says, 'may be injured by mistakes, and in the confusion of aftertime the translator of Terence, and the author of The Jealous Wife, should be supposed guilty of The Iron Chest, I shall, were I to reach the patriarchal longevity of Methuselah, continue (in all my dramatic publications) to subscribe myself George Colman, the younger. Lovely as day he was-but envious clouds Would charm the towering eagle in her flight, From The Poor Gentleman.' A SIR CHARLES CROPLAND at breakfast; his Valet-de-chambre adjusting his hair. Sir Charles. Has old Warner, the steward, been told that I arrived last night? Valet. Yes, Sir Charles; with orders to attend you this morning. Sir Cha. [Yawning and stretching.] What can a man of fashion do with himself in the country at this wretchedly dull time of the year! Valet. It is very pleasant to-day out in the park, Sir Charles. Sir Cha. Pleasant, you booby! How can the country be pleasant in the middle of spring? All the world's in London. Valet. I think, somehow, it looks so lively, Sir Charles, when the corn is coming up. Sir Cha. Blockhead! Vegetation makes the face of a country look frightful. It spoils hunting. Yet, as my business on my estate here is to raise supplies for my pleasures elsewhere, my journey is a wise one. What day of the month was it yesterday when I left town on this wise expedition? Valet. The first of April, Sir Charles. Sir Cha. Umph! When Mr Warner comes, shew him in. Valet. I shall, Sir Charles. [Exit. Sir Cha. This same lumbering timber upon my ground has its merits. Trees are notes, issued from the bank of nature, and as current as those payable to Abraham Newland. I must get change for a few oaks, for I want cash consumedly.-So, Mr Warner. Enter WARNER. Warner. Your honour is right welcome into Kent. I am proud to see Sir Charles Cropland on his estate again. I hope you mean to stay on the spot for some time, Sir Charles? Sir Cha. A very tedious time. Three days, Mr Warner. I Warner. Ah, good sir, things would prosper better if you honoured us with your presence a little more. wish you lived entirely upon the estate, Sir Charles. Sir Cha. Thank you, Warner; but modern men of fashion find it difficult to live upon their estates. Warner. The country about you so charming! Sir Cha. Look ye, Warner-I must hunt in Leicestershire-for that's the thing. In the frosts and the spring months, I must be in town at the clubs-for that's the thing. In summer I must be at the wateringplaces for that's the thing. Now, Warner, under these circumstances, how is it possible for me to reside upon my estate? For my estate being in Kent Warner. The most beautiful part of the country. Sir Cha. I hate milk and honey. Warner. A land of fat! Warner. I shall obey you, Sir Charles; but 'tis with a heavy heart! Forgive an old servant of the family if he grieves to see you forget some of the duties for which society has a claim upon you. Sir Cha. What do you mean by duties? Warner. Duties, Sir Charles, which the extravagant man of property can never fulfil-such as to support the dignity of an English landholder for the honour of old England; to promote the welfare of his honest tenants; and to succour the industrious poor, who naturally look up to him for assistance. But I shall obey you, Sir Charles. [Exit. Sir Cha. A tiresome old blockhead! But where is this Ollapod? His jumble of physic and shooting may enliven me ; and, to a man of gallantry in the country, his intelligence is by no means uninteresting, nor his services inconvenient.-Ha, Ollapod! Enter OLLAPOD. May Ollapod. Sir Charles, I have the honour to be your slave. Hope your health is good. Been a hard winter here. Sore throats were plenty; so were woodcocks. Flushed four couple one morning in a half-mile walk from our town to cure Mrs Quarles of a quinsy. coming on soon, Sir Charles-season of delight, love and campaigning! Hope you come to sojourn, Sir Charles. Shouldn't be always on the wing-that's being too flighty. He, he, he! Do you take, good sir-do you take? Sir Cha. O yes, I take. But by the cockade in your hat, Ollapod, you have added lately, it seems, to your avocations. Sir Cha. Well, no more on that head now. Olla. On that head! he, he, he! That's very well -very well, indeed! Thank you, good sir; I owe you Churchwarden Posh, of our town, being ill of an indigestion from eating three pounds of measly pork at a vestry dinner, I was making up a cathartic for the patient, when who should strut into the shop but Lieutenant Grains, the brewer-sleek as a dray-horse Sir Cha. Hang your fat! Listen to me. My estate in a smart scarlet jacket, tastily turned up with a being in Kent— Warner. So woody! Sir Cha. Curse the wood! No-that's wrong; for it's convenient. I am come on purpose to cut it. Warner. Ah! I was afraid so! Dice on the table, and then the axe to the root! Money lost at play, and then, good lack! the forest groans for it. Sir Cha. But you are not the forest, and why do you groan for it? rhubarb-coloured lapel. I confess his figure struck me. I looked at him as I was thumping the mortar, and felt instantly inoculated with a military ardour. Sir Cha. Inoculated! I hope your ardour was of a favourable sort? We then Olla. Ha, ha! That's very well-very well, indeed! Thank you, good sir; I owe you one. We first talked Charles. I told him the day before I had killed six of shooting. He knew my celebrity that way, Sir brace of birds. I thumpt on at the mortar. talked of physic. I told him the day before I had killed-lost, I mean-six brace of patients. I thumpt Sir Cha. And I shall have views for my posterity-Ion at the mortar, eyeing him all the while; for he shall take special care the trees shan't intercept their looked very flashy, to be sure; and I felt an itching to prospect. Warner. I heartily wish, Sir Charles, you may not encumber the goodly estate. Your worthy ancestors had views for their posterity. Enter SERVANT. Servant. Mr Ollapod, the apothecary, is in the hall, Sir Charles, to inquire after your health. Sir Cha. Shew him in. [Exit servant.] The fellow's a character, and treats time as he does his patients. He shall kill a quarter of an hour for me this morning.-In short, Mr Warner, I must have three thousand pounds in three days. Fell timber to that amount immediately. 'Tis my peremptory order, sir. belong to the corps. The medical and military both deal in death, you know; so 'twas natural. He, he! Do you take, good sir-do you take? Sir Cha. Take? Oh, nobody can miss. Olla. He then talked of the corps itself; said it was sickly; and if a professional person would administer to the health of the Association-dose the men, and drench the horse-he could perhaps procure him a cornetcy. Sir Cha. Well, you jumped at the offer. Olla. Jumped! I jumped over the counter, kicked down Churchwarden Posh's cathartic into the pocket of Lieutenant Grains' small scarlet jacket, tastily turned up with a rhubarb-coloured lapel; embraced him and his offer; and I am now Cornet Ollapod, apothecary at the Galen's Head, of the Association Corps of Cavalry, at your service. Sir Cha. I wish you joy of your appointment. You may now distil water for the shop from the laurels you gather in the field. Olla. Water for-oh! laurel-water-he, he! Come, that's very well-very well, indeed! Thank you, good sir; I owe you one. Why, I fancy fame will follow, when the poison of a small mistake I made has ceased to operate. Sir Cha. A mistake? Olla. Having to attend Lady Kitty Carbuncle on a grand field-day, I clapt a pint bottle of her ladyship's diet-drink into one of my holsters, intending to proceed to the patient after the exercise was over. I reached the martial ground, and jalloped-galloped, I meanwheeled, and flourished with great éclat: but when the word 'Fire' was given, meaning to pull out my pistol in a terrible hurry, I presented, neck foremost, the hanged diet-drink of Lady Kitty Carbuncle; and the medicine being unfortunately fermented by the jolting of my horse, it forced out the cork with a prodigious pop full in the face of my gallant commander. ་ Luc. And have you served much, Mr Ollapod? Olla. He, he! Yes, madam; served all the nobility and gentry for five miles round. Luc. Sir! Olla. And shall be happy to serve the good lieutenant and his family. [Bowing. Luc. We shall be proud of your acquaintance, sir. A gentleman of the army is always an acquisition among the Goths and Vandals of the country, where every sheepish squire has the air of an apothecary. Olla. Madam An apothe― Zounds!-hum!He, he! I-You must know, I—I deal a little in galenicals myself [Sheepishly]. Luc. Galenicals! Oh, they are for operations, I suppose, among the military. Olla. Operations! he, he! Come, that 's very well— very well, indeed! Thank you, good madam; I owe you one. Galenicals, madam, are medicines. Luc. Medicines ! Olla. Yes, physic: buckthorn, senna, and so forth. Luc. [Rising.] Why, then, you are an apothecary? Olla. [Rising too, and bowing.] And man-midwife at your service, madam. Luc. At my service, indeed! Olla. Yes, madam! Cornet Ollapod at the gilt Galen's Head, of the Volunteer Association Corps of Cavalry-as ready for the foe as a customer; always willing to charge them both. Do you take, good OLLAPOD visits MISS LUCRETIA MACTAB, a stiff maiden aunt,' madam-do you take? sister of one of the oldest barons in Scotland. Enter Foss. Foss. There is one Mr Ollapod at the gate, an' please your ladyship's honour, come to pay a visit to the family. Lucretia. Ollapod? What is the gentleman? Foss. He says he's a cornet in the Galen's Head. 'Tis the first time I ever heard of the corps. Lucretia. Ha! some new-raised regiment. Shew the gentleman in. [Exit Foss.] The country, then, has heard of my arrival at last. A woman of condition, in a family, can never long conceal her retreat. Ollapod! that sounds like an ancient name. If I am not mistaken, he is nobly descended. Enter OLLAPOD. Olla. Madam, I have the honour of paying my respects. Sweet spot, here, among the cows; good for consumptions-charming woods hereabouts-pheasants flourish-so do agues-sorry not to see the good lieutenant-admire his room-hope soon to have his company. Do you take, good madam-do you take? Luc. I beg, sir, you will be seated. Olla. O dear madam! [Sitting down.] A charming chair to bleed in! [Aside. Luc. I am sorry Mr Worthington is not at home to receive you, sir. Olla. You are a relation of the lieutenant, madam? Luc. I only by his marriage, I assure you, sir. Aunt to his deceased wife. But I am not surprised at your question. My friends in town would wonder to see the Honourable Miss Lucretia Mactab, sister to the late Lord Lofty, cooped up in a farmhouse. Olla. [Aside.] The honourable! humph! a bit of quality tumbled into decay. The sister of a dead peer in a pigsty! Luc. You are of the military, I am informed, sir? Olla. He, he! Yes, madam. Cornet Ollapod, of our volunteers-a fine healthy troop-ready to give the enemy a dose whenever they dare to attack us. Luc. I was always prodigiously partial to the military. My great-grandfather, Marmaduke, Baron Lofty, commanded a troop of horse under the Duke of Marlborough, that famous general of his age. Olla. Marlborough was a hero of a man, madam; and lived at Woodstock-a sweet sporting country; where Rosamond perished by poison-arsenic as likely as anything. Luc. And has the Honourable Miss Lucretia Mactab been talking all this while to a petty dealer in drugs? Olla. Drugs! Why, she turns up her honourable nose as if she was going to swallow them! [Aside.] No man more respected than myself, madam. Courted by the corps, idolised by invalids; and for a shot-ask my friend, Sir Charles Cropland. Luc. Is Sir Charles Cropland a friend of yours, sir? Olla. Intimate. He doesn't make wry faces at physic, whatever others may do, madam. This village flanks the intrenchments of his park-full of fine fat venison; which is as light a food for digestion as Luc. But he is never on his estate here, I am told. Olla. He quarters there at this moment. Luc. Bless me! has Sir Charles, thenOlla. Told me all-your accidental meeting in the metropolis, and his visits when the lieutenant was out. Luc. Oh, shocking! I declare I shall faint. Olla. Faint! never mind that, with a medical man in the room. I can bring you about in a twinkling. Luc. And what has Sir Charles Cropland presumed to advance about me? Olla. Oh, nothing derogatory. Respectful as a ducklegged drummer to a commander-in-chief. Luc. I have only proceeded in this affair from the purest motives, and in a mode becoming a Mactab. Olla. None dare to doubt it. Luc. And if Sir Charles has dropt in to a dish of tea with myself and Emily in London, when the lieutenant was out, I see no harm in it. Olla. Nor I either: except that tea shakes the nervous system to shatters. But to the point: the baronet 's my bosom friend. Having heard you were here-'Ollapod,' says he, squeezing my hand in his own, which had strong symptoms of fever-Ollapod,' says he, 'you are a military man, and may be trusted.' 'I'm a cornet,' says I, and close as a pill-box.' 'Fly, then, to Miss Lucretia Mactab, that honourable picture of prudence Luc. He, he! Did Sir Charles say that? Olla. [Aside.] How these tabbies love to be toaded! Luc. In short, Sir Charles, I perceive, has appointed you his emissary, to consult with me when he may have an interview. Olla. Madam, you are the sharpest shot at the truth I ever met in my life. And now we are in consultation, what think you of a walk with Miss Emily by the old elms at the back of the village this evening? The Newcastle Apothecary. A man in many a country town, we know, Yet some affirm no enemies they are, A member of this Esculapian line, Or make a bill; Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister; Of occupations these were quantum suff.: He made amends by bringing others into 't. His fame full six miles round the country ran; Benjamin Bolus, though in trade Which oftentimes will genius fetter Read works of fancy, it is said, And cultivated the belles-lettres. He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated, Next night 'twas the same; and the next, and the next; He perspired like an ox; he was nervous and vexed; In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him; For his skin, 'like a lady's loose gown,' hung about him. He sent for a doctor, and cried like a ninny: with her a small sum of money, and some wearing-apparel in a band-box. After various adventures, she obtained an engagement for a country theatre, but suffering some personal indignities in her unprotected state, she applied to Mr Inchbald, an actor whom she had previously known. The gentleman counselled marriage. But who would marry me?' cried the lady. 'I would,' replied her friend, if you would have me.' 'Yes, sir, and would for ever be grateful '-and married they were in a few days. The union thus singularly brought about seems to have been happy enough; but Mr Inchbald died a few years afterwards. Mrs Inchbald performed the first parts 'I have lost many pounds—make me well-there's a in the Edinburgh theatre for four years, and guinea.' The doctor looked wise: 'A slow fever,' he said: In that excellent bed died three people of fashion. 'Who wouldn't be crusty with half a year's baking?' Will paid for his rooms; cried the host, with a sneer, said; 'But I'd rather not perish while you make your bread? MRS ELIZABETH INCHBALD. Her continued on the stage, acting in London, Dublin, &c. till 1789, when she retired from it. exemplary prudence, and the profits of her works, enabled her not only to live, but to save money. The applause and distinction with which she was greeted never led her to deviate from her simple and somewhat parsimonious habits. Last Thursday,' she writes, "I finished scouring my bedroom, while a coach with a coronet and two footmen waited at my door to take me an airing.' She allowed a sister who was in ill health £100 a year. 'Many a time this winter,' she records in her Diary,' when I cried for cold, I said to myself: But, thank God! my sister has not to stir from her room; she has her fire lighted every morning : all her provisions bought and brought ready cooked; she is now the less able to bear what I bear; and how much more should I suffer but for this reflection." This was noble and generous self-denial. The income of Mrs Inchbald was now £172 per annum, and after the death of her sister, she went to reside in a boarding-house, where she enjoyed more of the comforts of life. Traces of female weakness break out in her private memoranda amidst the sterner records of her struggle for independence. The following entry is amusing: 1798. London. Rehearsing Lovers Vows; happy, but for a suspicion, amounting to a certainty, of a rapid appearance of age in my face.' Her last literary labour was writing biographical and critical prefaces to a collection of plays, in twenty-five volumes; a collection of farces, in seven volumes; and the Modern Theatre, in ten MRS ELIZABETH INCHBALD (1753-1821), ac- volumes. Phillips the publisher offered her £1000 tress, dramatist, and novelist, produced a number for her Memoirs, but she declined the tempting of popular plays. Her two tales, A Simple Story, offer. This autobiography was, by her orders, and Nature and Art, are the principal sources destroyed after her decease; but in 1833, her of her fame; but her light dramatic pieces are Memoirs were published by Mr Boaden, compiled marked by various talent. Her first production from an autograph journal which she kept for was a farce, entitled The Mogul Tale, brought above fifty years, and from her letters written to out in 1784; and from this time down to 1805 her friends. Mrs Inchbald died in a boardingshe wrote nine other plays and farces. By some house at Kensington on the 1st of August 1821. of these pieces-as appears from her Memoirs-By her will, dated four months before her decease, she received considerable sums of money. Her first production realised £100; her comedy of Such Things Are-her greatest dramatic performance-brought her in £410, 12s.; The Married Man, 100; The Wedding Day, £200; The Midnight Hour, £130; Every One has his Fault, £700; Wives as they Were, and Maids as they Are, £427, 10s.; Lovers' Vows, £150; &c. The personal history of this lady is as singular as any of her dramatic plots. She was born of Roman Catholic parents residing at Standyfield, near Bury St Edmunds. At the age of sixteen, full of giddy romance, she ran off to London, having she left about £6000, judiciously divided amongst her relatives. One of her legacies marks the eccentricity of thought and conduct which was mingled with the talents and virtues of this original-minded woman: she left £20 each to her late laundress and hair-dresser, provided they should inquire of her executors concerning her decease. THOMAS HOLCROFT. THOMAS HOLCROFT, author of the admired comedy, The Road to Ruin, and the first to introduce the melodrama into England, was born in |