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has published, it is fair to add, that they contain some translations from Plato written with much spirit and elegance, and in far more correct English than the original essays. And, besides these translations, there are many letters from Italy, of which the descriptive parts are more delightful than any other prose writing I have seen respecting the beauties of nature, the remains of antiquity, and the treasures of art, in that sunny land.

MATHEWS, THE COMEDIAN.

THERE is really not less instruction than entertainment to be derived from a view of the life and character of Mathews, the comedian, such as has lately been exposed to the beholding public. But the public rushes on, considering nothing. It is not here intended to maintain that four volumes about the late worthy comedian may not be about four times as much as should in reason have been said upon the subject; nor can I pretend, O most excellent listeners, that for your benefit I have read these four volumes, seeking amid the chaff and straw

+ Four volumes of memoirs of the late C. Mathews, have been recently published by his widow. The execution of the work is generally admitted to be very creditable to the abilities of that lady.

for grains of wisdom, or of innocent mirthfulness, to lay before you. No; I am about to talk to you concerning an essay in the December number of Blackwood,* upon the last two volumes of the published memoirs of Mathews-an essay written in a spirit most congenial with the subject-for it combines sensible, judicious observation of real things, with a humorous turn of mind, and a ready sense of the ludicrous.

Poor Mathews was wanting in that sort of intelligence and discretion which enables a man to retain the fruits of singular talents, considerable industry, and a fair portion of good fortune; but in other respects he appears to have added a great deal of good sense, good feeling, and good conduct, to his wonderful genius for extracting the ludicrous out of ordinary materials, and his extraordinary ability in conveying these impressions of the ludicrous to others. Mathews was a man fit for any society, having in him that true spirit of the gentleman which accommodates itself to the regulations and proprieties of every class. In the highest society he could be deferential without being abject; and in the lowest he could be natural and kind, without rude familiarity or grossness. In short, he had common sense and good taste, and was, there

* Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine for December,

fore, above affectation of any kind, though, of all men that ever lived, probably none could put on the manners of another with such complete success as he.

It is curious to observe the difference between the exaggerations of Mathews, and of those in the present day who attempt the same mode of surprising and pleasing. He throws his exaggeration into the right place. He imagines a hot-tempered man in a fidget, and when by the force of his genius he puts you in sympathy with that sort of being, on he goes, and any amount of exaggeration appropriate to that mood becomes really natural. We are heartily amused because it is so natural. This I say in reference to his letters, which abound with descriptions and allusions most pleasantly ludicrous, even when the matters under narration are anything but agreeable in themselves.

And here is the philosophy worthy of being observed. No doubt much depends upon natural disposition, and not one in five thousand could manage to extract the humorous out of the unpleasant, and to behave accordingly, as Mathews did; but surely it would be exceedingly worth while to try. If, instead of allowing peevishness or sullenness to gain possession of us under circumstances of annoyance and wrong, we could contrive to be patient with it-to do all that common sense and moderation suggest by way of redress-and, failing that, to try to make

merry even with the unreasonableness that we might not unreasonably complain of this would be worthy of a philosopher. This Mathews did from a felicity of nature. Not that he himself was within himself always cheerful. Alas! poor Mathews enjoyed no such perpetual sunshine. He often suffered deep depression, but he had a manly elasticity, by means of which he rose from this at once upon the wings of his mirthful genius. He neither whimpered nor whined, as some poor creatures do who pretend to genius and low spirits. He took another method-he worked. Mathews was an Englishman, every inch of him.

The writer in Blackwood says—“ To add to the other discomforts of this man of pleasantry, he was almost a constant sufferer from bodily indisposition. When he had not a broken arm he had a rheumatism; when he had cured a fractured leg, he got a fever to supply its annoyance; when all else was well, he was regularly visited by some strange torture of the tongue, which swelled to an unusual extent, and alternately threatened dumbness and strangulation. At last he broke his hip for a permanent occupation; and it employed him during the rest of his days." Even under the torment of the tongue he wrote cheerfully, and made merry with the curiously contradictory opinions of his physicians.

"Mathews," says the Blackwodian, "reminds us of the story of Carlini, the memorable mimic,

who, going to a physician to complain of a desperate dejection, received for answer that if he wanted to recover from it he ought to go and laugh at Carlini ! He seems to have been singularly assailed by mental depression at a time when he was amusing the world. In Dublin he writes to his wife-" your letters are a great solace to me, for in my blue devil fits my fiend is ingenious in tormenting, and I am sure to brood on all sorts of imaginary evils."

Mathews had a queer sort of quick sagacity (which is often found in humorous people) in discovering that some trouble or perplexity was at hand, and bearing down upon him. He did not then begin to curse and swear, or fume and fret, but used to say that he "smelt a misery;" and he had an odd lachrymose sort of attendant at the theatre, who, it seems, loved "a misery," and used thereby to provoke the mirth of his

master.

But the blessing of Mathews's mirth was, that it had nothing cold or spiteful or rancorous in it; and, better still, it was never reckless, never sneering at what religion venerates or decency respects. His was a kindly humour, one of the greatest of gifts, and far better than wit, which is in a great measure an art, and is seldom unmingled with bitterness or pride of some kind or another.

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