gratified by what I overheard. Of this manuscript I have long since destroyed the only copy that I had, and if I had it now in my hands it would be only to consign it to the flames, for it was of that occasional class of poems for the day, which have no claim upon posterity, and in such I have not been ambitious to concern myself; it served the purpose, however, and amused the moment; it was also the tribute of my mite to the lares of that mansion, where the muse of Young had dictated his tragedy of The Revenge, and which the genius of Voltaire had honoured with a visit; here Glover had courted inspiration, and Thomson caught it: Dodington also himself had a lyre, but he had hung it up, and it was never very high-sounding; yet he was something more than a mere admirer of the muse. He wrote small poems with great pains, and elaborate letters with much terseness of style, and some quaintness of expression : I have seen him refer to a volume of his own verses, in manuscript, but he was very shy, and I never had the perusal of it. I was rather better acquainted with his diary, which, since his death, has been published, and I well remember the temporary disgust he seemed to take, when upon his asking what I would do with it, should he bequeath it to my discretion, I instantly replied, that I would destroy it. There was a third, which I more coveted a sight of than of either of the above, as it contained a miscellaneous collection

of anecdotes, repartees, good sayings, and humorous incidents, of which he was part author and part compiler, and out of which he was in the habit of refreshing his memory, when he prepared himself to expect certain men of wit and pleasantry, either at his own house or elsewhere. Upon this practice, which he did not affect to conceal, he observed to me one day, that it was a compliment he paid to society, when he submitted to steal weapons out of his own armoury for their entertainment, and ingenuously added, that although his memory was not in general so correct as it had been, yet he trusted it would save him from the disgrace of repeating the same story to the same hearers, or foisting it into conversation in the wrong place, or out of time. No man had fewer oversights of that sort to answer for, and fewer still were the men, whose social talents could be compared with those of Mr. Dodington."

This is a copious extract; but surely no reader will think it a tedious one.

Academical remunerations were still to be showered upon Cumberland. When he returned out of Dorsetshire, he was solicited to offer himself as a candidate for the lay fellowship, then vacant by the death of Mr. Titley, the Danish envoy. As there are but two fellowships of this description, it may be supposed that many sought it who were disappointed. Cumberland tried and gained it; he was supported by the same powerful in

It

terest as before, and where there is patronage as well as merit, it is natural to expect success. does not appear that any undue influence was employed, or any positive enactments dispensed with in his favour; but he did not hold the possession long, for he soon entered into that state which effectually disqualified him for retaining his fellowship, by qualifying him for holding a station much more honourable and useful, that of a husband and a father of a family.

CHAP. VI.

Cumberland writes The Banishment of Cicero. Complimentary Letter from Warburton. -The mutual Civilities of Authors commonly ridicu lous. Offered to Garrick by Lord Halifax, for Representation, but refused.— Cumberland marries.- Accompanies Lord Halifax to Ireland, who is appointed Lord Lieutenant, His Duties. Offered a Baronetcy, but refuses it. - Sketch of Society in Dublin. - Cumberland's Father promoted to the See of Clonfert.

WE have now arrived at the period when Cumberland made his first appearance before the public as a dramatic writer. The subject which he chose for his virgin effort was one very little calculated to mould into the requisite form for representation, though sufficiently tempting perhaps to a scholar. Its title (The Banishment of Cicero) will tell what that subject was. Such an action might afford scope for the production of a fine classical drama, replete with elevated sentiments, enforced in a style of chaste and dignified eloquence; but it could not comprise such incidents as a modern audience would receive with applause. This defect the author very justly allows, but he insinuates, at the same time, that if he did not produce a good acting play, he at least produced a good

reading one. This opinion he thinks deducible from the approbation bestowed upon it, both in England and Ireland, by competent judges, and among others, by Bishop Warburton, a complimentary letter from whom to Cumberland, is preserved in the Memoirs; but there are few testimonies less to be depended upon than those which an author's friends deliver; especially when a work is politely presented, and an opinion politely requested. What can be expected but one politely given? Politeness and truth, however, are not inseparable companions. It cannot be expected, indeed, that a man's love of integrity will be so paramount to all other feelings, that he would recompence an author's civility who had presented him with a copy of his work, by telling him that it was a worthless production. There is an allowable evasion of truth in these cases, which all men practise, and all men know to be practised, except when they are its objects, and then it is not longer truth evaded but truth herself. Hence the wide difference between the public sentence upon a book, and that which we often find in the letters of eminent judges addressed to the authors themselves; and hence the mutual compliments of literary men which commonly appear so ludicrous when divested of those accidental circumstances by which, in their first application, they are rendered respectable.

"Let me thank you," says Warburton, "for the sight of a very fine dramatic poem. It is much