suit us for you to have the gallery to yourself. Ian undoubted picture of Shakspeare's mother, should prefer that you put off the article until which, if you can give me a day or two more, Í March. I shall be at home the 30th, and then we can give you a particular account of. I have could see you and Mrs. P―e, if agreeable to her. also acquired a bust of Young, by Behnes (perfect). But do as you like. I should wish you to mention this, as it may serve the artist, a young man of great talents. The bust of Shakspeare you should say is a cast from the monument at Stratford, by G. Bullock. "So no more from your loving humble servant, "C. MATHEWS.” "Yours in a gallop, "To save the post, "C. MATHEWS." Here is another letter on the same subject, written a year afterwards, which will be read with interest, as it contains Mathews's own opinions, in his own words, of many of the pictures, &c., in his gallery. It was written in reply to one in which I stated to him that the article on his gallery was about to be reprinted in a permanent form, and requested him to name to me any additions, &c., to the gallery, that had taken place since the first appearance of the paper: and contending, that because he was a great mimic he could not be a great actor; and accordingly, to the day of his death, he was more generally spoken of at least, if not felt to be, the former than the latter. This was a subject of the most bitter and perpetual annoyance to him, and he revenged himself for it by not merely entertaining, but cherishing, a profound hatred and contempt for all newspaper critics, great and small. Mathews was not without the weakness of all his profession, touching the newspaper and other dramatic critics of the day. Abstractedly, he hated them all-certainly not for any ill will that he owed the existing race of them on his own account-for few actors have been so uniformly and universally treated with favour, or rather with justice, as he was, so far as regarded his general pretensions, especially during the last "Kentish Town, May 24, 1824. fifteen years of his theatrical career. But it must "DEAR P-E,-I thank you for the opportu- be remembered that the line of performance which nity you offer me of alteration or addition respect- he adopted during that period was not the one of ing the account of the gallery. I should merely his choice, but was forced upon him by what he suggest the addition of a few names that were conceived an inadequate appreciation of his powers passed over in the first list. The correction as a comic actor. And this he attributed in a great respecting Palmer, Smith, and Mrs. Beverley, measure to the newspaper critics who held sway which appeared as a note, of course you will at the period of his early performances. Having attend to. You cannot speak too highly of the unluckily exhibited his extraordinary powers of scene from King John as a work of art. You mimicry, as distinguished from those of dramatic omitted the name of the artist, Mortimer, who personation, his early critics fell into what he stood very high in his day. It is a brilliant speci-justly deemed the ridiculous blunder of supposing men of his pencil. It might be inferred also, that Bensley was the king, and Powel Hubert, as it stands. It was exactly the reverse. There are several portraits of Cooke--one by Green in lago, one in Kitely by Singleton, and the last he sat for in America, by Stewart. Also, a vigorous mask taken when living by G. Bullock; a drawing of Sir T. Lawrence of Kemble, perfect as to likeness, and an elegant specimen of Sir T's.; a crayon portrait also of him [Kemble] by Downman; the As one of the most interesting and characterissandals which he wore the last night of his ap-tic of the "Recollections" of my intercourse with pearance in Coriolanus, should be mentioned in him is connected with this topic, I will relate it the second part, and which I begged and received here. At any early period of his career in London, from him on that occasion; Betterton in Hamlet; Mathews was advertised to perform Rover, in Mr. and Mrs. Barry in Hamlet and Queen, by "Wild Oats," on a certain night, and his name Roberts; Tate Wilkinson, the wandering patentee was continued in the bills up to the time of the (faithful likeness); Doggett, the only one known performance; but in consequence of a sudden of him; Old Bannister in the Quaker, by Pie; illness he could not play, and at a late hour the two of Hogarth's, Quin, and Rich's family; two performance was changed. Those who knew his very fine specimens of Russell, in crayons; Ban-irritable nature may judge of his rage and astonishnister in Dr. Lenitive, and the other John Palmer; ment at seeing, in the Morning Chronicle of the Henderson in two places, by Romney and Beech, next day, a detailed account of his performance of the former in Macbeth; Edwin, by Gainsborough, Rover the night before, accompanied by sundry a brilliant head; another by Beech, in Peeping proofs and arguments, showing that the (alleged) Tom; Madame Storace, by Sharp; two of Hull; performance was a total failure, and that the actor a large whole-length of Miss O'Neil in the Tra- should never have attempted it! Mathews learngic Muse, by Joseph (purchased since I saw you), ed that this criticism was written by the late to be placed where Master Betty was, who is to William Hazlitt-whom he willingly admitted support Miss O'Neil on the left, while Charles to be (when he pleased) the best dramatic critic Kemble in Douglas, by Kearsley, the same size, of the day. Not knowing the excuse (such as it will support her on the right. This has been pre- was) for the unlucky blunder in question, he ever sented by the latter to me lately. These three afterwards adduced it as evidence of the utter pictures, nearly of a size, will present a noble worthlessness of all dramatic criticisms. Now, front in a few days. Kearsley was a great genius the excuse for the blunder was, that Hazlitt had who was lost to the world, like Harlowe, at an seen him play Rover some nights before, but had early age. It is a beautiful picture. I have found been prevented from making his remarks on the and the result was, that he expressed his deter- performance by the pressure of other matters in the paper; and seeing the play advertised for the night referred to, wrote and sent his criticism, without taking the trouble to satisfy himself that the performance actually took place on that particular night. This circumstance happened many years before my acquaintance with either Mathews or Hazlitt; but hearing the thing mentioned by Mathews at a time when I enjoyed a strict intimacy with both of those distinguished men, and learning on enquiry, the true explanation of it, 1 was glad of an opportunity which shortly afterwards seemed to present itself, of doing away the bitter feeling against Hazlitt which literally rankled in Mathews's mind, for what he had always "Ivy Cottage, Kentish Town, April 24. deemed a base and deliberate attempt to crush "I have not time to write you such a trimmer him in his early career in London. Hazlitt's as you deserve, my dear sensitive Pe. You interest having been excited towards Mathews's have not a notion of the number of letters, notes, gallery, by the many references to it in Lamb's &c., that I am compelled to write almost daily. Í beautiful paper on "The Old Actors," he hap- do not know whether you admit such a term as pened to say to me how much he should like to miffy into your vocabulary. It is a very expresssee the gallery; and I offered to take him to ive word to me. A miffy person is a great torKentish-town for that purpose, without, however, ment. I meet with many among what I call venturing to hint at the obnoxious topic-which I matter-of-fact people; but I hardly expect such knew was a very sore one with Hazlitt-but in- fancied affronts from men of your understanding. tending of course to see my way pretty clear I cannot enter into a laboured defence. But before me in case Hazlitt did not object to go. I briefly, you are all wrong in your conjectures, and was not more surprised than pleased at Hazlitt's rather unjust in punishing me with your angry reply. He at once recognised the obstacle of the remarks: you must think very meanly of me if unlucky criticism, and fully explained to me the you supposed I could say I should be very happy occasion of it; but seemed to think, that under to see Mr. Hazlitt, if I were not sincere. I am the circumstances, it was impossible for him to sure I said so, but I was not aware that I was go to Mathews's house, without a special invita- bound to time. Now, the whole of the delay has tion from himself. At the same time he express- arisen from a simple circumstance,-that my galed his strong desire to go, if it were only to do lery has been so completely deranged, for the away the impression which, as he had always purpose of hanging the pictures in an improved heard, Mathews had taken up about him in conse- manner, that I did not like to exhibit them in an quence of the occurrence referred to. I accord-incomplete state. I did not know Charles Lamb's ingly undertook to at least sound Mathews on the address, but I have enquired about it two or three subject, whic' I did at the first opportunity; and times unsuccessfully. I never had such a notion I found that, after the proper explanations, in my mind as to neglect your application-very Mathews was as anxious to get rid of his injufar from it. This I declare upon my honour. rious impressions about Hazlitt as the latter was to see them done away; for Mathews's personal feelings did not prevent him from entertaining a just notion of Hazlitt's great powers as a writer. Briefly then, it was settled that in a day or two Mathews should write to me, fixing a day for Hazlitt to dine with him and see the gallery; and this arrangement was made known to Hazlitt, who did not absolutely object even to the dining part of the business, though at that period of his life nothing was so difficult as to persuade him to go any where under the bare chance of meeting with strangers. Now, if you will say as much to Mr. Hazlitt, and "C. MATHEWS." I showed this letter to Hazlitt, who was perfectly satisfied with it. A day was immediately afterwards fixed by another note from Mathews; the parties met, and the day went off with more mutual satisfaction (as I afterwards learned) to each party, than I ever remember to have witnessed on any similar occasion;-Hazlitt having received a much higher impression of Mathews's intellectual powers by these few hours of per Thus matters stood for more than a week, without my hearing any thing further from Mathews on the subject; a delay which greatly annoyed me, because I knew it would suggest to Hazlitt's almost diseasedly sensitive feelings on matters of this nature, a suspicion that Mathews had consented rather than desired to receive him: and on seeing him, such in fact I found to be the case; nor could any thing I was able to say re-sonal intercourse, than he had acquired from all move the suspicion from his mind. It was evident that he fancied I had got him into a scrape, in seeming to obtrude his presence on a man whom he felt that he had outraged and injured; his public performances; and Mathews, on his part, having been perfectly delighted with Hazlitt, whom he had hitherto been taught to look upon as little less than a demon incarnate. I have repeatedly heard him speak of the meeting | were obtained-the sculptor was appointed-and afterwards, as offering to him the most remark- every thing was ready for placing the matter beable proof he had ever met with, of the strength fore the public with a view to the necessary suband extent to which personal prejudices may be scriptions, except an appropriate "address" to carried, in opposition to the truth. The only per- accompany the proposals. This address, after sons present on this occasion besides Hazlitt and repeated applications to Coleridge to prepare it, myself, were the late Charles Lamb, and Mr. and his repeated promises and failures, Mathews Leigh Hunt. Three more accomplished talkers asked me to write, and I had (not without some in their respective ways were perhaps never reluctance and hesitation) promised to do so-he brought together; and each being in excellent engaging to bear me harmless through the matter cue on this occasion, I never remember to have as regarded Coleridge. The following little note passed so pleasant a day of its kind, even in is characteristic of the almost boyish eagerness Mathews's house,-which, during his residence at and warmth with which he pursued and persisted Kentish-town, was the resort of more intellectual in any project which he took up. society, gathered together from a greater variety of sources, than perhaps any other that could be named during the same period. "Dear P―e, "Highgate, May 1." "C. MATHEWS. the address; and so loth was he to part with it, that not liking to remonstrate himself with Coleridge on his objection to it, he persuaded me to engage to do so; for which purpose he arranged that we should meet at his house, when he would casually introduce the subject, without giving Coleridge the least idea who had written the address, and then leave me to manage the matter in the best way I could-he being at hand to aid me in this my somewhat perilous enterprise, of contesting a point of literary taste with a man whom we both looked upon as the greatest literary genius of the day. We met accordingly; and after a long discussion, I had the satisfaction of bringing Coleridge completely round to Mathews's and my own opinion as to the passage in question-which it was now agreed should stand precisely as it was originally written. "I only wait for you. The king has given me It was here I first met Coleridge, who for seve- full permission to publish. Therefore despatch, ral years, I believe, went to Mathews's oftener mon ami! If possible, give me a look in to-morthan to any other house. And what is remark-row evening at the E. O. (English Opera House.) able, he did not "hold forth" so much there as he "Thine in sincerity, was accustomed to do elsewhere. I have met him several times at Mathews's, and do not remember a single occasion there on which he absorbed more of the conversation than fairly fell to The address was written, and entirely approved his share. On the first occasion of my meeting of by Mathews and his friends; but Coleridge him there, I sat next to him at dinner, and was having been asked to write one, it was deemed favoured with the chief share of his wondrous indispensable (by myself in particular) that it talk; and though I found it in all respects an- should be submitted to him for his approval; swerable in its good qualities to the reports I had which was accordingly done by Mathews. He previously heard of it, I perceived none of the op- returned it with his unqualified sanction to every posite qualities that were alleged against it. We part, except one phrase, which phrase had hapspoke together much before quitting the dinner-pened to please Mathews more than any other in table, during which time, though it was a small party (as Mathews's always were, never more than from eight to twelve persons) he did not once seem to claim the whole attention of the company to himself; and when he rose from table, he and I (having just entered into a dissertation on dreams-a glorious theme for his inspired tongue!) instead of following the rest of the guests to the drawing-room, wandered out into the grounds, (for it was a beautiful summer's night,) and I listened to, while he talked, a flood of inspired eloquence, which seems to echo in my ears at this moment as I write, and the mere thought of which recalls to me every particular of time, place, personal appearance of the speaker, the sound and expression of his voice, the rise, flow, and fall of his impassioned intonation, as if it were but yesterday. And there Mathews came and found us as the clock struck midnight, and I'm afraid the reader may think that, in the after all the other guests were gone, still talking above details, I have claimed his attention to a and listening beneath the rich moonlight, as if topic not worth more, at best, than a momentary "time and the hour" were made for nothing else. reference. But in reading details of this kind, of Another occasion on which I met Coleridge at however trifling a nature, about such men as ColeMathews's, had reference to a circumstance worth, ridge and Mathews, I have ever felt a deep and perhaps, a detailed notice. For two or three lively interest; and I have been willing to believe years, without intermission, Mathews had devoted that others may be similarly constituted. Of the the whole of his leisure time and thoughts to a project above referred to, it is a characteristic project for erecting a splendid monument to fact, that nothing has been heard, from the comShakspeare, at Stratford-upon-Avon; and he had pletion of the preliminary arrangements, to the taxed, to the very utmost, his extensive interest in present day, except that, I believe (but am not the great and the literary worlds, in furtherance sure) the address, names of the committee, &c., of his plan. At length a committee of the most were published by way of advertisement, in one brilliant names of the country was formed-the newspaper. The public, I believe, did not respond plan was matured the king's (George the to the appeal in the way Mathews wished and Fourth's) direct patronage and personal sanction expected; this (as it always did in whatever he undertook) checked his ardour in the enterprise: [cil book of the corporation of Stratford: Shackhe ceased to busy himself about it, and it fell to sper, 4; Shackspeare, 2; Shakspeyr, 17; Shakythe ground; a result which I had all along anti- spere, 9; Shaxpeere, 9; Shaxpere, 18; Shaxcipated, and in some measure hoped for: deem-peare, 69!!! This, then, surely is conclusive as ing, as I did, that a monument to the memory of to the pronunciation of his name, and rescues the Skakspeare was at best a superfluity, not neces-players from the charge of "offensive affectasary to complete or consolidate his fame, and tion;" for though we are aware that in those days called for, if at all, only by the feelings entertain-orthography was very loose, yet the recurrence of ed of him by his countrymen. In this view of Shaxpeare above 100 times, in my mind proves the matter, it may be said (in a paradoxical spirit) the mode of pronouncing his name to be arbitrary. that the greatest monument existing to the fame I am, sir, of any human being, is the fact, that to this day, Your obedient servant, even his own country has erected no public monument to Shakspeare. Having been led to the subject of Shakspeare, I will here place before the reader a letter from Mathews's pen, which will be read with additional curiosity and interest, when I state that it presents him (for the first and last time probably,) in the novel character of a contributor to the periodical literature of the day! It was sent to, and appeared in, a weekly literary journal, in which theatrical affairs received marked attention. The subject of it was a favourite crotchet with Mathews. He had not common patience with any body, and especially any public writer, who, whether in ignorance or from "malice prepense,' spelt Shakspeare's name in any but one way; and his proofs as to which that way should be, as adduced in the following letter, are pretty decisive at least if we admit that a family is to be permitted to settle the orthography of their own name-which is not so apparent. SHAKSPEARE versus SHAKESPEARE. To the Editor of the Y. I have no idea to this day, whether any one, even of his own family, who may have read this letter, except myself, is aware of its being written by Mathews. As I have been led to give incidental specimens of Mathews's epistolary style, I will close my Recollections of this month with one which is capital of its kind. As an example of the laconic style, it perhaps stands alone. It was written in reply to a note saying, that I would dine with him at Kentish-town on a certain day, if there was nothing in the way to prevent it, on his part. "Dear Pat. "Come. "12th. “Yours, "MAT." [Since the first part of the foregoing Recollections was written, I have seen that a work is advertised by Mr. Marray, entitled "The Life and Opinions of the late Charles Mathews, begun by himself and continued by his son." It is impossible to conceive any class, or even SIR,-As you "take the liberty of enquiring forward to this production with intense interest and cuindividual, of "the reading public," who may not look why the players pronounce the first syllable of riosity, no less on account of the unequaled number and Shakspeare's name as if it were written Shaks," variety of the themes for observation which must have I take the liberty of enquiring why you have writ-presented themselves to the writer's pen, than for his ten it Shake, and from what authority? There wonderful truth and delicacy of tact, and his excellent is not an instance on record of any one of the taste and uncommon skill and facility in giving the benefamily having inserted the e; and therefore I fit of his remarks to others, whether by voice or pen. I would enquire of you why you pronounce Shaks- am happy to add, that in all these particulars the gentlepeare (which is the true way of spelling the man who will aid in completing the work, is worthy to name) Shakespeare. "Glorious John" Kemble, follow the steps of his gifted father.] Mrs. Siddons, Malone, Steevens, cum multis aliis, invariably pronounced his name in the way his brother Charles has directed the performers in the new piece to pronounce it. Malone at one time thought he had settled the question, and concludes the argument in favour of Shack, by saying, "therefore let this set the question at rest, for there can be no doubt but the name was pronounced so by every body during the lifetime of the bard." Mr. Davenport, the present vicar, near ninety years of age, vouches for the pronunciation at Stratford from his earliest days. In Prynne you will find the following passage:"Shackspeer's plaies are printed in the best crown paper, far better than most bibles." The only autograph now in existence of William's is in Doctors' Commons; it is Shakspeare.The name of the bard's father occurs 166 times under different modes of orthography, in the coun "The early days of Shakspeare." From the London Metropolitan. KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN. BY MRS. CRAWFORD. Kathleen Mavourneen! the gray dawn is breaking, Oh! why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart? The blue mountains glow in the sun's golden light; From the London Metropolitan. JAPHET IN SEARCH OF A FATHER. (Continued from p. 430.) "I have slept as much as I wish, and would not disturb you," replied I, “ for I wanted nothing." "Peradventure I did sleep," replied the man; "watching long agreeth not with the flesh, although the spirit is most willing. Requirest thou any thing?" "Yes," replied I, "I wish to know where I am?" "Verily, thou art in the town of Reading, in Berkshire, and in the house of Pheneas Cophagus." "Cophagus!" exclaimed I; "Mr. Cophagus, the surgeon and apothecary!” “Pheneas Cophagus is his name; he hath been admitted into our sect, and hath married a daughter of our persuasion. He hath attended thee in thy fever and thy frensy, without calling in the aid of the physician, therefore do I believe that he must be the man of whom thou speakest; yet doth he not follow up the healing art for the lucre of gain." "And the young person who was at my bedside, is she his wife?" I think some people shook me by the hand, and others shouted as I walked in the open air, but I recollect no more. I afterwards was informed that I had been reprieved, that I had been sent for, and a long exhortation delivered to me, for it was considered that my life must have been one of error, or I should have applied to my friends, and have given my name. My not answering, was attributed to shame and confusion-my glassy eye had not been noticed-my tottering step, when led in by the jailers, attributed to other causes; and the magistrates shook their heads as I was led out of their presence. The jailer had asked me several times where I intended to go. At last, I had told him to seek my father, and darting away from him, I had run like a madman down the street. Of course he had no longer any power over me; but he muttered, as I fled from him, "I've a notion he'll soon be locked up again, poor fellow! it's turned his brain for certain." As I passed along, my unsteady step naturally attracted the attention of the passers by; but they attributed it to intoxication. Thus was I allowed to wander away in a state of madness, and before night I was far from the town. What passed, The man then quitted the room, leaving me quite and whither I had bent my steps, I cannot tell. All I astonished with the information he had imparted. know is, that after running like a maniac, seizing every Cophagus turned quaker! and attending me in the town body by the arm that I met, staring at them with wild of Reading. In a short time, Mr. Cophagus himself and flashing eyes; and sometimes in a solemn voice, at entered in his dressing-gown. "Japhet!" said he, seizothers in a loud, threatening tone, startling them with ing my hand with eagerness, and then, as if recollecting, the interrogatory, "Are you my father?" and then dart- he checked himself, and commenced in a slow tone, ing away, or sobbing like a child, as the humour took me," Japhet Newland-truly glad am I-hum-verily do I I had crossed the country, and three days afterwards I rejoice-you, Ephraim—get out of the room-and-so was picked up at the door of a house in the town of on." Reading, exhausted with fatigue and exposure, and nearly dead. When I recovered, I found myself in bed, my head shaved, my arm bound up, after repeated bleedings, and a female figure sitting by me. "God in heaven! where am I?" exclaimed I, faintly. 'Thou hast called often upon thy earthly father during the time of thy illness, friend," replied a soft voice. "It rejoiceth me much to hear thee call upon thy Father which is in heaven. Be comforted, thou art in the hands of those who will be mindful of thee. Return thy thanks in one short prayer for thy return to reason, and then sink again into repose, for thou must need it much." ‘Nay, friend, she is half-sister to the wife of Pheneas Cophagus by second marriage, and a maiden, who was named Susannah Temple at the baptismal font; but I will go to Pheneas Cophagus and acquaint him of your waking, for such were his directions." "Yea, I will depart, since it is thy bidding," replied the man, quitting the room. Mr. Cophagus then greeted me in his usual way; told Ime that he had found me insensible at the door of a house a little way off, and had immediately recognised me. He had brought me to his own home, but without much hope of my recovery. He then begged to know by what strange chance I had been found in such a desolate condition. I replied, "that although I was able to listen, I did not feel myself equal to the exertion of telling so long a story, and that I should infinitely prefer that he should narrate to me what had passed since we had parted at Dublin, and how it was that I now found that he had joined the sect of quakers." "Peradventure-long word that-um-queer peoplevery good-and so on," commenced Mr. Cophagus; but as the reader will not understand his phraseology quite so well as I did, I shall give Mr. Cophagus's history in my own version. I opened my eyes wide, and perceived that a young person, in a quaker's dress, was sitting by the bed, working with her needle; an open prayer book was on a little table before her. I perceived also a cup, and parched with thirst, I merely said, "Give me to drink." She arose, and put a teaspoon to my lips; but I raised my hand, took the cup from her, and emptied it. O how delightful was that draught! I sank down on my Mr. Cophagus had returned to the small town at which pillow, for even that slight exertion had overpowered me, he resided, and on his arrival he had been called upon and muttering, "God, I thank thee!" I was immediately by a gentleman who was of the society of Friends, rein a sound sleep, from which I did not awake for many questing that he would prescribe for a niece of his, who hours. When I did, it was not daylight. A lamp was was on a visit at his house, and had been taken dangeron the table, and an old man, in a quaker's dress, was ously ill. Cophagus, with his usual kindness of heart. snoring very comfortably in the arm-chair. I felt quite immediately consented, and found that Mr. Temple' refreshed with my long sleep, and was now able to recall report was true. For six weeks he attended the young what had passed. I remembered the condemned cell, quakeress, and recovered her from an imminent and painand the mattrass upon which I lay, but all after was in ful disease, in which she showed such fortitude and resig. a state of confusion. Here and there a fact or supposi-nation, and such unconquerable good temper, that when tion was strong in my memory; but the intervals between were total blanks. I was, at all events, free; that I felt convinced of, and that I was in the hands of the sect who denominate themselves Quakers: but where was I? and how did I come here? I remained thinking on the past, and wondering, until the day broke, and with the daylight roused up my watchful attendant. He yawned, stretched his arms, and rising from the chair, Mr. Cophagus returned to his bachelor's establishment, he could not help reflecting upon what an invaluable wife she would make, and how much more cheerful his house would be with such a domestic partner. In short, Mr. Cophagus fell in love, and like all elderly gentlemen who have so long bottled up their affections, he became most desperately enamoured; and if he loved Miss Judith Temple when he witnessed her patience and resignation |