London, at the Haymarket Theatre, in the part of Octavian, in the "Mountaineers;" and played on the same evening, Vapour, in the farce of "My Grandmother." On the ensuing morning, the following notices made also their appearance in the boards of the journals:"This young performer had acquired considerable reputation from the reports of provincial theatres; and his claims are such, that, in our opinion entitle him to the favourable reception he has met with from a London audience. He appears to possess that first requisite to an actor-good conception of his character. Many passages in his performance of Octavian were marked by energy and feeling. His pathos made a successful appeal to the hearts of the audience, and discovered powers beyond the common artifice of trick. His delivery in general was good, except that, when he was desirous of being impressive, he was occasionally too rapid. In Vapour, he disclosed some power of whim and humour."

Again-" Doctors differ, says the proverb, and it would be curious if critics were to agree. Some say that the new performer, Mr. Elliston, succeeded very well in Octavian, but was indifferent in Vapour. Others think that his Vapour was good, but his Octavian by no means successful. A critic, says Dean Swift, is like a dog at a feastintent only on what the guests throw away. Admitting, therefore, that of these critics some were pleased with the tragedian, others with the comedian, there is not much wonder that, each in his capacity of critic, seized on what was bad in either of the performances, as their inclination directed."

Taking the various accounts given at the time, there can be no doubt that Elliston made a decided "hit" in the part of Octavian, and in all probability would have shot equally well in Vapour, but for this double aim of being successful in the two characters, before an entirely new audience. However confident he might have felt in his powers, the very temperament of the critic was to be dreaded; and it was not likely, whatever his claim might have been, that equal and unqualified praise would have been his portion in this ambidextral attempt. Nay, the very delight which the spectator might have felt in witnessing his former performance, was hostile to his chance in the latter, from the very unwillingness to disturb the first impression, of which the wax was scarcely set-like algebraic quantities, they might have destroyed each other. We remember to have heard an anecdote of a lady whose coachman suddenly discovered a wonderful knowledge of floriculture and the management of the conservatory, but on no account would she suffer him to touch a flower; it turned out, however, that he had passed nearly his whole life in the labour of nursery-grounds, and had scarcely once handled the reins before the first Sunday he drove her ladyship to church.

On the 28th, Elliston repeated Octavian to great applause and an overflowing audience, and on the 30th he appeared in the character of Sheva. His success in this part was undeniable. In the opinion of the journals, "no actor of better promise had presented himself in London for many years," and the Bath actor was, sur le champ, a confirmed favourite with the London public. These two parts, Octavian and Sheva, he alternately repeated for a few nights according to agreement.

Early in July, Elliston resumed his professional duties at Bath, and within a week of his return, his benefit at Bristol took place, whereby

he cleared nearly one hundred pounds-a sum hitherto unprecedented in that city. On the 15th of the same month, he received the following flattering communication from Mr. Colman :

"London, July 14, 1796.

"MY DEAR SIR,-I shall be very happy to see you again the moment your engagement will permit you to return. I will either defer settling terms till we meet, or fix them with you by letter. If you prefer the latter, pray propose, and nothing that I am able to effect shall be left undone to meet your wishes.

"Octavian and Sheva, you might, I am confident, repeat with increase of reputation to yourself, and advantage to the theatre. Hamlet, too, (of whom you seem a little afraid,) has nothing in the character which is not within your scope. If you fancy my hints can be of service to you in any part, I think they may be so in this, for I have been reading "Hamlet" with no small attention, on your account, since your departure. Believe me, whenever I may have anything to suggest, I shall manifest that freedom and friendship which I am most truly inclined to shew you. "I am, my dear Sir, sincerely yours,

"G. COLMAN."

*

To this letter, so full of hope and encouragement, Elliston did not reply for several days; for notwithstanding his recent anxiety to appear in London, and his great reception there, he still doubted whether it would not be wiser to remain in a place which had become so essentially his home. "Hors de Bath, point de salut," thought he. In the meantime he received a letter from Mr. Gore, a gentleman who had long been on terms of great intimacy with the Elliston blood, which, in respect of Robert William was not likely to be now invaded; as, above all things in life, the Captain's besetting passion was a play. "Why have you not replied to Colman's letter?" says he; "you should not be too confident. Sense of security is mortals' frailty, and a man who has behaved so kindly to you as Colman, has a claim on your best attention. Believe me, you are much to blame. I see no reason why you should stand in awe of Hamlet; you have every qualification for it, except feature, and art may do much for you even in this. Dismiss all apprehension; and as at our Swedish game of 'Fer Herne,' rush boldly forward, and win by daring. I would say to you as Cæsar did to the pilot, who was afraid to put to sea with him in a hurricane,- Quid times? Cæsarem vehis!' Jack Bannister has recovered his politeness; after all, what I fancied coolness, might really have been fancy. Cumberland and myself have met-we chatted together last Friday behind the scenes very freely, upwards of an hour. He talked much about you; and be not angry, that I praised you highly as a good son and honest man. Last night I was behind the scenes, at Colman's. Jack Bannister bowed en passant, more coolly than he was wont to do. Perhaps he had heard of my attendance on you, and rooks will smell gunpowder. Charles Kemble asked

*Mr. and Lady Morris Gore resided chiefly at Bath, and were on the best terms with the Ellistons. Mr. Gore and his lady were sponsors for two children— Mr. Gore, for William Elliston, born 18th October, 1798; and Lady Morris Gore, for Frances Maria, born 13th August, 1800.

He

very kindly after you; he seemed pleased to hear of your probable return this season. Waldron, the renowned Sir Walter Raleigh, rapped out some dozen oaths-swore by 'gad,' he could not have thought there was so much stuff in you-that by 'gad,' you had taken them all in; and that you were an astonishing young man. talked of Garrick, of whom, to his teeth, he knows no more than I of Sanchoniatho. He said, too, he had heard you were engaged at Covent Garden, at 207. a-week. Then came the hero of the house (Colman), who asked me if I had received a letter from you? Oh, the rogue!' he replied; 'how can he neglect me so, when he knows I am so impatient to hear from him?' In the front of the theatre I met Reynolds; he told me he had finished another comedy for Harris, in which Lewis is to play Harlequin- It is full of stale jokes,' said he; ' and the characters cast in the same mould as the former ones—and as for plot, even the lying critics can't accuse me of stealing them from other people, for my plays have no plots at all.' This isn't being too partial to one's own-is it? There is much conversation stirring here on the death of Robert Burns; but honourable fame is imperishable. I cannot do better than dismiss my letter with a hint so useful."

On the first of August, Colman again wrote to Elliston, saying that he had actually announced him to appear at the Haymarket, in a few days. "Let us leave all terms to be arranged at our meeting," he observed; "I flatter myself you will not be dissatisfied with me."

It is clearly to be seen that Colman was extremely anxious Elliston should join him as soon as possible. In fact, he had a great and particular object at this moment in view-an object, which it was necessary for him at once to carry; and one in which, though Elliston was to become the chief instrument, was as yet a secret to the actor, and known only but in the wary councils of the manager.

The patronage which George the Third graciously extended to the drama, and to the benefit of meritorious actors, should never be forgotten. In this summer (1796) Quick played nine nights at Windsor, of which the King commanded six!

eyes was apparently for it was only lighted by a single torch,-of considerable width and extent, and hewn out of bed of soft sand-stone. The roof, which might be about ten feet high, was supported by the trunks of three large trees, rudely fashioned into the shape of pillars. There were several narrow lateral openings, which seemed to communicate with other caverns; and at the further end, which was almost buried in obscurity, there was a gleam that appeared to be produced by the reflection of the torchlight upon water. On the right hand was a pile of huge stones, disposed somewhat in the form of a Druidical altar, on top of which, as on a throne, sat the demon hunter, surrounded by his satellites, -one of whom, horned and bearded like a goat, and decorated with a long tail, had clambered the roughened sides of the central pillar to hold a torch over the captive's head.

Half-stifled by the noxious vapour he had inhaled, and blinded by the tightness of the bandage, it was some time before Wyat fully recovered his powers of sight and utterance. At length, he spoke.

Why am I brought hither, false fiend?" he demanded.

"To join my band," replied the demon, harshly and imperiously.

"What, scour the woods with a troop of infernal spirits !" rejoined Wyat."Never! I will have nought to do with you, except as regards our compact."

"What I require from you is part of our compact," rejoined Herne. "You are mine."

"Not yet," replied Wyat. "I defy you!"

So scornful and terrible a laugh burst from the demon that Wyat involuntarily shrank backwards.

"It is too late," cried Herne. "You are in my power." "Not till you have fulfilled your agreement," rejoined Wyat. "He who has once closed hands with Herne the hunter cannot

retreat," returned the demon, sternly. "But I mean you fairly, and will not delude you with false expectations. What you seek cannot be accomplished on the instant. Ere three days Anne Boleyn shall be yours."

"Give me some proof that you are not deceiving me, spirit," said Wyat.

"Come with me, then," replied Herne. And springing from the stone, he took Wyat's hand, and led him towards the lower end of the cave, which gradually declined till it reached the edge of a small, but apparently deep pool of water, rising above the level of the rock that formed the boundary of the cavern.

"Remove the torch!" thundered the demon to those behind. "Now summon your false love, Sir Thomas Wyat,” he added, as his orders were obeyed, and the light was withdrawn into one of the side passages, so that its gleam no longer fell upon the

water.