indeed indulged and exhausted the other side of the question. As that romance is executed in letters, so it is protracted beyond the just claims of its interest. On this occasion I will not suppress my decision against that mode of composition-any advantages (and I do not deny that there are some) in the epistolary form are easily conciliated with a narrative in either the first or third person; and an occasional letter to a valued correspondent will break the uniformity of the work and animate the pulse of its relation. Rien n'est beau que le vrai'; letters, which are only limited by a quire of paper, can be but rare productions in actual life. Richardson, I remember, is obliged to bestow a general insomnia upon all his characters; they retire to rest, but always rise again to continue the record of their day.

It has been said that much of Miss Lee's personal history may be discovered in The Life of a Lover. Cecilia, like herself, is engaged in the work of tuition, for which I have always understood the fair author to have been singularly accomplished. A most interesting and admirable lady of my acquaintance, who was some time under her care, describes her to me as very impressive in her manner, and very eloquent in her instruction. Her eye was brilliant and searching. She inspired her pupils with a respect that continued through life.

A parent can hardly fail to estimate the advantage of placing a youthful mind under a lady capable of writing the following passage, which has all the moral dignity, tenderness, and sweetness of Cowper :—

'Those people know little of mental indulgence who call a winter in the country dreary. It is then that man may become justly conscious of his own importance in creation. All nature works for him in summer, and he has only, in common with every other creature, to enjoy the ripening abundance. Winter calls upon him to dispense what his foresight has saved, and renders him to the mighty mass of inferior beings a kind of subordinate providence. The wind which curls a flood of leaves round our feet sobs to the thinking soul the sufferings of mortality.'-Life of a Lover, vol. vi. p. 18.

The establishment of the sisters at Bath was a concern of magnitude, and most admirably conducted. The super

intendence was with Sophia; Miss Harriet Lee was chiefly devoted to the school. There was no affectation about their system; they did not profess to teach what could be taught nowhere else, nor that their pupils should become informed without steady application. Purity of manners. and self-respect were taught by example.

Their father occasionally needed assistance, and found it in their filial piety. Sophia wrote a comedy to free him from embarrassments; this work of genius and affection succeeded in its objects. These excellent sisters at Bath had the cordial friendship of the Linleys and the Sheridans, and the esteem of so much talent insured them the patronage of a very wide and respectable circle.

I am apt to suppose the attention of the fair author conducted to the subject of her happiest work by the controversy to which Dr. Robertson's History of Queen Mary had given rise. The honour of the nation seemed to rest in some measure upon the proof of her innocence, the unrivalled villany that surrounded her person, and the wicked persecution of a rival queen. Nor was the English nation much colder on this subject than the Scottish. A powerful interest was excited for the character of Mary, and the appeal to the heart left no room for the reflection that to impeach our maiden sovereign was to sully the glory of England.

The plan of her Recess was fortunate beyond parallel. The known designs of Norfolk upon Queen Mary rendered the private marriage probable; and to produce two of the most interesting and unfortunate of the species from such an union was only continuing the calamities of a race which Voltaire conceived to be even sovereign in misery. Throwing one of these children of her rival before Elizabeth in her last moments, heart-broken, like herself, at the loss of Essex, is one of the happiest fictions of romance; and it has a pathos hardly to be approached. The great novelist of the North has yet to excite a sympathy equally profound and dignified-yet who has touched the regal character with so masterly a hand as the author of Waverley? Mary, Elizabeth, James, and Queen Caroline are all dramatic biography.

I have made this article somewhat fuller than I intended. But the subject of my present work calls upon me for a particular attention to female excellence, and Bath, the residence of Miss Lee, was the scene also of the triumphs of our greatest actress. I would wish to surround Mrs. Siddons by the splendid ornaments of her sex.

A speaking pantomime called The Genius of Nonsense was attempted at this theatre on the 2nd of September. It did not beget a fashion for loquacity in the 'knight of the wooden sword. If Harlequin lose his agility he may regain his speech; but I confess I would rather have him dumb for ever so he retain his pert, unmerciful activity. The Clown, moreover, should not be a man of many words.

Among the memorables of the season were a performance of Lady Randolph by Mrs. Crawford; a farce called Fire and Water by Andrews, remembered only for the younger Colman's jest, it made a hiss'; Mrs. Cargill's appearance there as Euphrosyne in Comus, and Miss Satchell's first appearance in Polly. It was the apotheosis of Polly, but her own martyrdom. The stage never in my time exhibited so pure, so interesting a candidate as Miss Satchell her modest timidity, her innocence, the tenderness of her tones, and the unaffected alarm that sat upon her countenance, all together won for her at once a high place in the public regard, which she cultivated long and extended under the appellation-Mrs. Stephen Kemble. This young lady carried into a family abounding in talent powers of so peculiar a kind, so perfect, so unapproachable, that, if they were inferior as to their class, they shared a kindred pre-eminence. No one ever like her presented the charm of unsuspecting fondness, or that rustic simplicity which, removed immeasurably from vulgarity, betrays nothing of the world's refinement, and is superior to its cunning. Double entendre in her presence had nothing beyond the single sense that might meet the ear of modesty. I have often listened to the miserable counterfeit of what she was, and would preserve, if language could but do it, her lovely impersonation of artless truth. But it may be gathered critically in its abstract by the negative assistance of many of its modish imitations. The fancy may restore her, or be contented at

least with its own creation. That of Steele, in one of its softest inspirations, first saw her about the year 1674, on the continent of America, fondly bending over a young European whom she had preserved from her barbarous countrymen; she was banqueting him with delicious fruits, and playing with his hair. He called the vision Yarico. Chateaubriand, a century after, beheld it with additional charms, and named it Atala.1

'You observed in her countenance I know not what of virtuous and impassioned, of which the charm was irresistible. To this she added graces yet more tender. An extreme sensibility united to a profound melancholy characterised her look, and her smile had something in it scarce earthly'; and thus unintentionally, painting only the creature of imagination, he completed the portrait of an English actress.

1 'On remarquait sur son visage je ne sais quoi de vertueux et de passionné, dont l'attrait était irresistible. Elle joignait à cela des grâces plus tendres; une extrême sensibilité, unie à une mélancolie profonde, respirait dans ses regards; son sourire était céleste.'

CHAPTER VII

It is time to return to Mrs. Siddons, not for the purpose, if it were practicable, of reviewing her performances in the country, but to look a little at the means of her success, as they arose out of her habits of life and her practice of the art. La Clairon used to say that the manners of a tragedian in private life should partake of the stately decorum of the stage. Perhaps the personal appearance of the tragic actress should be sketched out from the Minerva of Milton

'Rigid looks of chaste austerity,

And noble grace, that dash'd brute violence
With sudden adoration and blank awe.'

She should neither encourage nor suffer familiarity. Any striking disparity on and off the stage is injudicious. We cannot reconcile the seeming contradictions. Besides that, the relaxations of private habit are apt to give a forced, a strained assumption to the dignity worn at night. The charm of Cleopatra, to be everything by turns, is the captivation of a mistress who must meet us at all moments and in all humours. I dare say that Mrs. Siddons did not form to herself any such system of manners; when she best followed her theatrical interest she, perhaps, but indulged the tendency of her nature. It led her to a calm and rather retired existence-much solitary reflection, and deportment, like her utterance, measured and deliberate. But, if we were to look only to the policy of the actress, such would be the conduct most advantageous. Dignified manners facilitate the intercourse with higher life (the only condition that can serve the tragic actress) and strongly detach her