In my eager desire to obtain for Knowles all possible benefit derivable from his beautiful work, I called on Murray, the most liberal of publishers, with the expectation that he would give, according to his wont, a liberal price for it. He received it in the most friendly spirit, and my disappointment was in proportion to my raised expectations when, a day or two after, I found the MS. upon my table with his note declining to publish it. His reader and adviser on this occasion, as I was informed, was the Rev. H. Milman, afterwards Dean of St. Paul's, one whose name is justly to be classed with those of the great and good, but who, I think, in this instance, "impar sibi," did not exert that liberality and clearness of judgment which would ordinarily and justly be ascribed to him; for the star of Alfieri's genius looks pale on this subject before the lustre of that of Knowles, and so long as there is a stage, and actors capable of representing the best feelings of our nature, so long will the pathos, the poetry, and passion of Virginius,' command the tears and applause of its audience.

Its publisher was Ridgway of Piccadilly, an old friend of the author, and it has passed through many editions.

An acquaintance formed under the circumstances, that introduced me to Knowles, would naturally soon ripen into intimacy. It might almost have been said of him, that he "wore his heart upon his sleeve," so unreserved and expansive was he in the expression of his feelings. His rough exterior would better convey the idea of the captain of a Berwick smack than that of the poet who could conceive the virgin purity, the tenderness and grace of his "sweet Virginia." To a sensibility almost womanly, and an exuberant flow of boyish spirits, he united the most manly sentiments, ready courage, and conscientious rectitude of purpose. The creature of impulse and sensitiveness, his strong good sense, when brought to bear on his errors of precipitation, would instantly correct them; but his generous and too-confiding nature would occasionally betray him into embarrassments that tried his patience without adding to his stock of experience. With all his genius his want of method in his affairs made the greater part of his life a struggle with pecuniary difficulties; but even under the pinchings of poverty he would seek indemnity from the hard dealings of fortune in the little swarm of children that clustered round him, and would suggest comfort to their mother in the very cause of her anxiety, exclaiming, "Look at them, Maria, are we not rich in these?" His heart was in his home, and with the greetings of friends and the plaudits of the theatre ringing in his cars, he was longing impatiently to return there. In a letter from his wife on the news with the highest degree of what may be called power. We have not space left to notice the passages in which both the actor and the dramatist were most applauded; but we must not pass unnoticed the scene of sensibility so strong, so natural, in which he yields his child with tears even to the lover of his choice, his first meeting with Virginia on his return, and his appearance before the tribunal."

1819-20.

Dedication of 'Virginius.'

161

of his play's success reaching Glasgow, recounting the many visits of congratulation she had received, she observed-“ Ah, James, we shall not want friends now!" Few men have had more or truer friends, but a sort of perverse destiny rendered their efforts for many years unavailing, in assisting him in the establishment of an undisturbed regularity of income.

A little incident may serve to show the singularity of his character in his inattention to ceremonious observances. On the Sunday evening after the production of Virginius,' I was dining with Sir Robert Kemeys in Park Lane, where, I fancy, I was the only untitled guest at table. In the course of the dinner one of the servants half whispered to me, "Sir, a person wants to see you." Utterly ignorant of any business that any one could have with me I was a good deal embarrassed, but Sir Robert very goodnaturedly relieved me by saying, "You had better see the person, Mr. Macready;" and accordingly I went into the hall, where to my astonishment, in the dusk of the evening, I distinguished Knowles. "How are you?" was his greeting. "Good heavens, Knowles! what is the matter? You should not have come here to me!" was

my hasty remark. Oh, I beg your pardon," he replied: "I am going out of town in the morning, and I wished to give you this myself. Good-bye!" thrusting a parcel into my hand and hurrying away. Putting it in my pocket without looking at it, I returned in some confusion to the dinner-table. When I reached home I found the packet to contain the printed copy of 'Virginius,' dedicated to myself, and a note sent afterwards to my lodgings, expressive of his regret for his intrusion on me, and, evidently under wounded feelings, informing me that it was the first copy struck off, and bidding me farewell. I wrote immediately to him, explaining the awkwardness of my position and my ignorance of his object in coming to me and wishing to see him. The note reached him in the morning: he came at once, and all was made perfectly smooth between us. At a supper he gave to a few intimate friends at a coffee-house in Covent Garden (the bill of fare of which was salmon and a boiled leg of mutton) I first met Hazlitt, to whose early advice and tutorship he considered himself greatly indebted. Hazlitt was a man whose conversation could not fail *The following is the dedication that appeared in all the earlier editions, but has been omitted in the later ones :

*

"TO WILLIAM MACREADY, Esq.

"MY DEAR SIR,-What can I do less than dedicate this Tragedy to you? This is a question which you cannot answer; but I can. I cannot do less; and if I could do more, I ought and would.

"I was a perfect stranger to you: you read my play, and at once committed yourself respecting its merits. This, perhaps, is not saying much for your head, but it says a great deal for your heart; and that is the consideration which above all others makes me feel happy and proud in subscribing myself "Your grateful Friend and Servant, JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES."

to arrest attention. He found in me a ready listener, and in the interest of our discussion became irritated by the boisterous boyish sallies of Knowles's irrepressible spirits, rebuking him for his unseasonable interruptions, and, as one having authority, desiring him not to "play the fool." The poet was in truth a very child of nature, and Hazlitt, who knew him well, treated him as such.

Among the many gratifications associated in my mind with the production of 'Virginius,' the acquaintance first made with my friend Jackson is not the least prized. It was in this character I first sat to him, for my portrait in 'Virginius,' and, as intimacy developed to me more and more the simplicity and benevolence of his nature, my attachment to him kept place in its growth with my admiration of his genius during his life, and still clings warmly to his memory.

Through the remainder of the season 'Virginius' was acted every night appropriated to benefits. Mine came off, June 9th, with flying colours. A crowded house put a good sum in my pocket; and my first essay in Macbeth,' on the study of which I had bestowed my best pains, was very favourably received.* To strengthen the cast of the play I had asked Terry to undertake Macduff, at which Abbott, who had once appeared in the part, took umbrage, and made it the ground of a quarrel. It was in vain that I pleaded to him the universal custom on such occasions, and in the most soothing and friendly manner deprecated his taking offence. He very intemperately persisted in language that was inadmissible and which left me no alternative but to retort

*From the Morning Herald, June 10th.-" Covent Garden.-The tragedy of 'Macbeth' was acted at this theatre last night for the benefit of Mr. Macready It was his first performance of that admirable character, and he has reason to be doubly gratified with his selection of its performance for his benefit. It attracted a crowded and remarkably brilliant audience, and in this new essay he met with signal success. His air of bewildered agitation upon coming on the stage after the interview with the weird sisters was a most judicious and effective innovation upon the style of his predecessors. In the banquet scene, too, he made an original and admirable effect. Instead of intimidating the Ghost into a retreat, he fell back, sank into a chair, covered his face with his hands, then looked again, perceived the Ghost had disappeared, and upon being relieved from the fearful vision recovered once more the spring of his soul and body. The effect was powerful. His expression of terror after the murder produced a long-continued stillness. The pathos which he infused into Macbeth was a principal merit in his delineation. At the fall of the curtain, upon Mr. Connor's appearing to announce the performance of the next evening, there was a universal clamour for Mr. Macready. After some delay he did appear, but was quite exhausted by the exertions of the last act. He was so overpowered by fatigue and perhaps by the enthusiasm which the audience manifested towards him, that Mr. Fawcett came out and said that, in consequence of the estimation which the audience had expressed of Mr. Macready's performance, the play should be repeated on Thursday."