with your wine,' says the philosopher; if the rule is good, then it is good to mix wine with your water."

"Good, good!"

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"Most assuredly I am not an admirer of that word 'mix ;' but these grave and learned doctors, who are my very worthy and approved good masters,' say (and I doubt them not, though I cannot account for the fact) that I have too much water in my system. What, then, is the remedy? Captain Noah's, to be sure. Wine! generous wine!"

The visible wine and the invisible spirit of wine, had produced very visible effect; and but for the interference of the young Mentor at his elbow, the convalescent tragedian would have soon shown symptoms of his old complaint. Spiffard, assisted by one of the physicians, contrived to substitute a decanter of wine-and-water for that of wine which was at his side, and by filling for his friend, kept him in that moderate state of excitement which merely exhibited him to advantage.

A few songs were introduced; and in this part of the entertainment Spiffard amply contributed; for his knowledge of music, and stores of the best songs of every description, made him an invaluable guest at any musical or convivial party, and rendered it easy for him to prescribe his own course, and persevere in it, in respect to his water-drinking. • Nor numbers, nor examples, with him wrought to swerve' from his resolves.

The conversation turned naturally upon actors and acting. Cooke's remarks on his contemporaries of the stage, were always liberal-when he was himself. He gave Kemble all the praise he deserved, although it was evident that he placed him far below Mrs. Siddons, in the scale of histrionic excellence. Garrick and Henderson he had only seen, but never played with. He professed to aim at the one in Richard, and the other in Falstaff. In Sir Archy and Sir Pertinax, he remembered their author, old Macklin; but he played them even better. When descanting on the merits of others, he undesignedly impressed upon his hearers a conviction of his own pre-eminent talents in his profession.

Surely actors should avoid the appearance of slighting those who preceded them. The fame of an actor only lives in the praise of those who follow him. He leaves no impress of himself, but as he is imitated by others. We are apt to bestow our admiration on those who "strut their hour on the stage" before us, and doubt the testimony of writers who have recorded the merits of their contemporaries. This was not a failing of Cooke's. Happily this day was one of his brightest. He exerted himself to please, and was successful.

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CHAPTER XVIII.

Conversation and coffee-Politeness and harmony.

"Black spirits and white, blue spirits and gray,
Mingle, mingle, mingle; ye who mingle may.'

"It is certain that either wise bearing, or ignorant carriage; is caught as men take diseases, of one another: therefore let men take care of their company."

My tongue hath wronged him: if it do him right,
Then hath he wronged himself; if he be free,
Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies,
Unclaimed by any man."

"How blest are we that are not simple men!
Yet nature might have made me as these are,
Therefore I will not disdain."

"Their own hard dealings teaches them to suspect
The thoughts of others.'

"Of government the properties to unfold

Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse.

****The nature of our people-our city's institutions-
You are pregnant in."

"Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both."

"Who can come in and say that I mean her,
When such as she is, such is her neighbour."

My face is visor-like, unchanging."-Shakspeare.

THE company.removed early from the dinner-table and the wine, exchanging the fumes of the cigar for those of the fragrant berry, the exhilarations of the decanter and the song for those of the tea-pot and the music of female conversation.

The handsome general left the dining-room before the company broke up, and was not found in the drawing room. This gentleman had not been introduced to Spiffard; and although he most courteously addressed the young man with smiles and a manner intended to be condescendingly encouraging, the water-drinker shrunk from him with a sensation approaching

to something between dread and loathing. He answered his questions politely, but with great brevity, and withdrew his eyes from the fine features and mild glances as soon as his unwilling reply to the superficial remark would in decency permit. Yet, by a strange anomaly of feeling, he looked for this man in the drawing-room, and seemed to be relieved when he discovered his absence. Cooke was here really the lion of the evening. He was fully alive to the pleasures of society, and in that happy state of confidence and self-possession, which prompted to eccentric sallies, and enabled him to meet on equal ground the opposition of those who did not choose to submit to his occasional dogmatism. The water-drinker was always the same, when not assailed on his weak side: and he was at this time in unusual spirits. His musical powers and his conversation had produced their full effect, and he was pleased to see that the man, in whom he took so great interest, had escaped unscathed from the dangers of his recent situation.

Doctor Cadwallader, one of the oldest and most popular physicians of the city, well known and highly esteemed in every literary as well as fashionable circle, had issued invitations very generally for this evening, and Mrs. Cadwallader had done the same; consequently the suite of apartments were filled by the young of both sexes, companions or admirers of the young ladies, and with professional men of every description, some of whom were expressly invited for the purpose of meeting the famous tragedian: the females of the doctor's family alone formed a brilliant circle; but, in addition, the rooms were almost crowded by belles and their mamas, who wished to see Richard and Sir Pertinax surrounded by a dramatis personæ of ⚫very-day life.

Cooke went through the forms of introduction with all the easy ceremony of the old school, and by the suavity of his manners, softness of his voice, good humoured smiles, and occasional archness, won the hearts of the old ladies, and the admiration of the young.

"I never will believe," whispered Mrs. Temple in the ear of Mrs. Cadwallader, "I never will believe that such a pleasant old gentleman can be guilty of the acts which have been attributed to him."

"My dear," said the elegant Mrs. Cadwallader, "these men are strange deceitful creatures. Even our husbands are not always the same amiable pieces of perfection they once were, or as we wish them to be."

Mrs. Temple's husband seldom came home sober, and

never in tolerable humour unless fortune had favoured him at the pharoah or brag table.

Cooke was at this moment examining a miniature picture (by the accomplished and amiable Malbone) that Miss Cadwallader had asked his opinion of. He immediately saw that it was the portrait of the lovely girl herself.

"My dear young lady, I can only say that it is extremely beautiful and extremely like. I must confess my ignorance of all that relates to this delightful art. Likeness I can see. I peer at those soft eyes and almost imagine that through the long lashes they are peeping at me-I look at these swelling ruby lips and think they are breathing odours, and just opening to accost me but when I turn to the original, I spy a thousand faults in the copy."

"What are they, Mr. Cooke?"

"I cannot perceive the laugh that lurks between the eyelids, and about the dimpling cheeks or curling lips-there now-it is less and less like. I cannot find the rows of pearl that should be here-or the blush that spreads and deepens every moment-truly the artist's colours have no life in them! What do you think, madam?" addressing Mrs. Cadwallader, who then joined them.

"You do the artist injustice, and flatter Louisa at his expense."

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Nay, mama, I think Mr. Cooke is a very good judge of painting," said the laughing Louisa.

"If my friend Pope were here," said Cooke, "he could talk learnedly on painting, as he is not only actor but painter, and in this same style. He would point out the merits and demerits of this very beautiful portrait-for such I can see that it is-although I can see that nature possesses many more beauties than art has portrayed. He could descant on colour and keeping, on tint and touch, and tell you why this eye does not sparkle like that," and he archly turned his own up to the laughing eyes of the lovely girl-" but I have no skill in these things I can paint no face but my own, and burnt cork and brick-dust are the principal colours I require.'

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But, Mr. Cooke," said Mrs. Temple, " is not every actor necessarily a painter? Is he not obliged to conceive an image of the figure, costume, expression, of the character he wishes to represent, and to make his own appearance conform thereto ?"

"He ought to do all this, madam, and he ought to understand grouping, that himself and those acting with him may

1

present true and graceful pictures to the spectators; but he is generally content to leave the first to the wardrobe-keeper or tailor, and the last to the stage-manager or prompter."

"I feel confident," said Dr. Hosack, who with Cadwallader joined the group, "that you, and your friends Cooper and Kemble, do not trust for stage grouping, or dressing, to the prompter or the tailor.”

"Why Tom and black Jack are generalissimoes: they command by virtue of proprietorship."

"And you," said Mrs. Cadwallader, "by talent. When you call up the image of Richard, Iago, Falstaff, or Sir Pertinax, you see in imagination a countenance and costume conforming to the character, in the same manner that the painter who wishes to represent on his canvass a madonna or a saint." I understand you, madam; so far the actor is a painter. Both must be imaginative; or steal, as both do, from those who went before them. But the actor must paint, as the savage does, on his proper person."

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"Or as we do," said Louisa, "when preparing for a party or ball."

"No, no: your care is, only, that grace and beauty may have fair play; and nature appear in her true loveliness, accompanied by art, not disguised by it. But the actor must

-

be himself the mere board on which to daub the character he is to exhibit a walking piece of paste-board or bundle of rags. He bears his own work about with him on his own person, and is exposed, with it, to be hissed, or hooted, or pelted, by the congregated mob of a playhouse."

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"Or to see the effects of his skill," said Cadwallader, reflected in the eyes of beauty, and hear the enthusiastic plaudits of the thousands attracted by his celebrity."

Spiffard was in another part of the room with Littlejohn; well pleased that his aged friend could give him the characters of the various individuals who were grouped in the apartments or occasionally entering. Mr. Littlejohn did not appear averse to playing the part of Asmodeus for the gratification of his young acquaintance.

"Who is that tall and heavy moulded stupid looking man, who is gazing around him with an inquiring and sinister eye, and an air of vulgar confidence?"

"Bless me," said Asmodeus," what brings him here? He has mistaken the doctor's house for a political tavern-hall, or this congregated assembly for a ward meeting. He is out of place here."