THE EARLY LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN HOWARD PAYNE 
 
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THE 
 EARLY LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN HOW AKl) PAYNE 
 
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 HERETOFORE rXPt'HT ISHhD 
 with his collar open, and tied with a r3ack 
 
 ribbon. " The New York MIRROR, NcveTn- 
 
 ber 24, 1832. Mr.B^heo. S. Fay, desert ng 
 
 1807, — "five and twenty years ago." 
 
 A LIMITED NUMBER OF COPIES OF THIS WORK HAVE BEEN 
 
 PRINTED PRIVATELY FOR THE EDITOR, FOR 
 
 COMPLIMENTARY OISTRlBiniON' 
 
 BOSTON — MCMXIIl 
 
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THE 
 EARLY LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN HOWARD PAYNE 
 
 WITH CONTEMPORARY LETTERS 
 HERETOFORE UNPUBLISHED 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIS T. HANSON, Jr., A.M. 
 
 A LIMITED NUMBER OF COPIES OF THIS WORK HAVE BEEN 
 
 PRINTED PRIVATELY FOR THE EDITOR, FOR 
 
 COMPLIMENTARY DISTRIBUTION 
 
 BOSTON — MCMXIII 
 
Copyright, 1913, by 
 The Bibliophile Society 
 
 THE university PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 IV/rY interest in the early life of John Howard 
 Payne dates from the day when chance 
 threw into my possession a volume of letters 
 concerning which Payne wrote as follows: — 
 
 London, August 20, 1819. 
 
 I have determined this day to begin and 
 transcribe in as regular succession as possible 
 all the copies of letters now in my possession, 
 although there are many which can serve no 
 purpose but that of recalling the recollection 
 of events by which they were produced. 
 
 While several of the volumes containing his 
 letters after 18 19 have for some time been 
 known, the first and most important seems 
 to have escaped even the most energetic of 
 Payne's biographers. Transcribed with the 
 greatest amount of care and neatness, these 
 early letters form a volume which is truly 
 unique. It is Payne's own story of his life, 
 his struggles, his thoughts and his ambitions 
 during that period of which heretofore so much 
 has been guessed at, and so little known. 
 
 Willis T. Hanson, Jr. 
 
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INTRODUCTION 
 
 The perennial fame of John Howard Payne 
 is primarily based upon his authorship of the 
 words of that immortal song, "Home, Sweet 
 Home." Although ninety years have passed 
 since it was first sung by Miss Maria Tree 
 at the Covent Garden Theater, London, this 
 song is today perhaps the most universally 
 known and most popular ballad in the Eng- 
 lish language. 
 
 While it is popularly supposed that, except 
 for the writing of "Home, Sweet Home," 
 Payne accomplished little of moment, and 
 while there is a general tendency to brand 
 his life a failure, such a notion is wrong, and 
 such a tendency unjust. 
 
 Payne's name is prominently associated 
 with the early American drama. He was the 
 first native American who as an actor or 
 dramatist ever attracted attention in Europe, 
 and whose plays were adopted as stock pieces 
 at their theaters. Of the sixty-three ^ plays 
 
 * Eleven Tragedies, nine Comedies, twenty-six Dramas 
 and Melodramas, seven Operas and ten Farces. 
 
 II 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The perennial fame of John Howard Payne 
 is primarily based upon his authorship of the 
 words of that immortal song, "Home, Sweet 
 Home." Although ninety years have passed 
 since it was first sung by Miss Maria Tree 
 at the Covent Garden Theater, London, this 
 song is today perhaps the most universally 
 known and most popular ballad in the Eng- 
 lish language. 
 
 While it is popularly supposed that, except 
 for the writing of "Home, Sweet Home," 
 Payne accomplished little of moment, and 
 while there is a general tendency to brand 
 his life a failure, such a notion is wrong, and 
 such a tendency unjust. 
 
 Payne's name is prominently associated 
 with the early American drama. He was the 
 first native American who as an actor or 
 dramatist ever attracted attention in Europe, 
 and whose plays were adopted as stock pieces 
 at their theaters. Of the sixty-three ^ plays 
 
 ^ Eleven Tragedies, nine Comedies, twenty-six Dramas 
 and Melodramas, seven Operas and ten Farces. 
 
 II 
 
written by him, four ^ were among the great- 
 est successes of their day. Although Payne's 
 work was mainly adaptive, none the less is 
 credit due to his master hand. How great 
 was his skill may be seen in the case of the 
 best known of his plays, the poetic tragedy, 
 Brutus, or the Fall of Tarquin. From seven 
 plays upon the subject of Brutus — only two 
 of which had been thought capable of repre- 
 sentation, and those two marked failures — 
 Payne evolved a tragedy which, produced by 
 Edmund Kean in 1818, met with instant suc- 
 cess and held the stage until into the seventies. 
 Played in America by such renowned actors as 
 McCullough, Edwin Forrest and Edwin Booth, 
 Brutus seems worthy to hold its place with the 
 best of the tragedies of the period. 
 
 Throughout his life Payne was abused for 
 opinions which he did not utter, and perse- 
 cuted for errors which he did not commit. 
 
 ^ Brutus; or. The Fall of Tarquin. A tragedy first pro- 
 duced at Drury Lane Theater, London, December 3, 1818. 
 
 Therese; or. The Orphan of Geneva. A drama, first pro- 
 duced at Drury Lane Theater, London, February 2, 1821. 
 
 Clari; or, The Maid of Milan. An opera, first produced 
 at Covent Garden Theater, London, May 8, 1823. 
 
 Charles the Second; or, The Merry Monarch. A comedy, 
 first produced at Covent Garden Theater, London, May 27 
 1824. 
 
 12 
 
To all attacks Payne maintained a charitable 
 silence, confining his sufferings to himself. 
 Even now, sixty years after his death, these 
 baseless accusations still detract from his well- 
 merited fame. 
 
 "Whatever may have been his life, his suc- 
 cesses, his disappointments, or his character, 
 no poet, actor, editor, or consul was ever laid 
 to rest with higher honors" ^ than when on 
 June 9, 1883, thirty-one years after his death, 
 the remains of John Howard Payne were 
 brought — 
 
 Back to the bosom of his own loved land, — 
 Back to his kindred, friends, his own Sweet Home,^ 
 
 and reinterred in Oak Hill Cemetery, Wash- 
 ington, D. C. 
 
 It is my intention in the following pages to 
 trace the life of John Howard Payne to the 
 commencement of the year 1813, when he 
 found it advisable to leave America to seek 
 his fortune in England. 
 
 To this period in Payne's life we should 
 look for the more noteworthy incidents of his 
 
 ^ Life and Writings of John Howard Payne. G. Harrison. 
 
 Pg- 293. 
 
 2 From the poem read at the unveiling of the Payne mon- 
 ument at Oak Hill Cemetery. 
 
 13 
 
career. The accomplishments of John How- 
 ard Payne — the Man, although to the world 
 better known, seem in no degree so remark- 
 able as his early accomplishments, and with 
 this feeling I have made every effort to bring 
 to light the ambitions, acts, and very thoughts 
 of John Howard Payne — the Youth. 
 
 14 
 
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 14 
 
EARLY LIFE OF JOHN HOWARD 
 PAYNE 
 
 John Howard Payne, the sixth of a family 
 of nine children, was born in the city of New 
 York, at No. 33 Pearl Street, on the ninth of 
 June, 1791.^ He was the son of William 
 Payne, by his second wife, Sarah Isaacs, whose 
 father — a convert from the Jewish faith, a 
 man of good education, much respected, and 
 of some means — had settled at East Hampton, 
 Long Island, many years previous to the Revo- 
 lution. On his father's side especially, John 
 Howard Payne was well connected. His pater- 
 nal ancestors were of English blood. Judge 
 Robert Treat Paine, of Boston, one of the 
 signers of the Declaration of Independence, 
 and Robert Treat Paine, Jr., a poet of no 
 mean ability, were of the same family, as was 
 Dolly Payne, wife of President Madison. 
 
 Soon after his marriage to Sarah Isaacs, in 
 
 ^ There have been many mis-statements as to the year of 
 Payne's birth. Many articles regarding him, and most ency- 
 clopedias, give the year as 1792. Mr. Harrison writes at 
 some length to give proof that the year should be 1791, and 
 this year is now generally accepted as the correct one. 
 
 IS 
 
1780, Mr. Payne was placed at the head of 
 the Clinton Academy, just erected at East 
 Hampton. His already recognized reputa- 
 tion as an instructor was greatly augmented 
 during the several years that he remained 
 there as principal. 
 
 The reputation thus acquired was not lost 
 sight of during the period of William Payne's 
 residence in New York, following his removal 
 from East Hampton, and led to his being 
 chosen to direct an institution at Boston, 
 later known as the Berry Street Academy. 
 To take up the duties of his new office, he 
 moved with his family to Boston, in 1796. 
 
 The frequent visits of the child John 
 Howard to his mother's old home^ at East 
 Hampton during the residence of the Paynes 
 in New York, — "the birds and the lambkins 
 that came at his call," — made a never to be 
 forgotten impression on the youthful mind. 
 "The lowly, thatched cottage" was always 
 his "Home, Sweet Home!" 
 
 ^ The Payne Cottage is now owned by Mr. G. H. Buek. 
 Tradition has woven a great deal of romance about the Cot- 
 tage, but it seems to rest on a very feeble hypothesis. There 
 are no records to show that Payne ever lived in the house,, 
 although he undoubtedly paid frequent visits to his relatives 
 in East Hampton. (Thatcher T. P. Luquer.) 
 
 16 
 
With his removal to Boston the education 
 of young Payne began in earnest. It must 
 have been by close application that he ac- 
 quired the remarkable store of knowledge 
 exhibited at the age of twelve, when as we are 
 told he was able "to support the conversa- 
 tion, and to perform the duties and transac- 
 tions of maturity." ^ His progress was the 
 more remarkable as for two or three years 
 previous to this period a nervous complaint 
 had practically unfitted him for profound 
 study. 
 
 In spite of his studies and ailments Payne 
 seems to have entered into boyish sports with 
 a zest, — in fact he became a leader in the 
 school, and outside. At twelve we find him 
 familiarly known as "Captain Payne," be- 
 cause of a little military organization which 
 he founded, and which attracted attention 
 throughout Boston. 
 
 Payne's father owed much of his reputa- 
 tion as a teacher to his skill in elocution. 
 Young Payne took great interest in this 
 branch of study. He was encouraged by his 
 father who saw in it a means of transferring 
 
 ^ Memoirs of John Howard Payne, the American Roscius. 
 London, 1815. Pg. 2. 
 
 17 
 
his attention from too serious study to a 
 course of work better adapted to his physical 
 improvement. How different would have 
 been his father's attitude had he foreseen the 
 result of his encouragement and instruction, 
 which coupled with his son's ability soon 
 rendered him most proficient in the art of 
 declamation. 
 
 During the winter of 1 804-1 805, the Betty- 
 mania in England was at its height. Two 
 years previous, William Henry West Betty 
 at the age of eleven years made his debut at 
 Belfast in the tragedy of Zara. The novelty 
 of the enterprise drew a crowd, — "the crowd 
 applauded, and wondered, other crowds suc- 
 ceeded, and the * wonder grew.'" ^ The fame 
 of young Betty spread like wildfire. Stirred 
 by the reports of this prodigy that found 
 their way across the Atlantic, and encouraged 
 by the noticeable success which he himself 
 had attained in recitation, declamation, and 
 in small plays given at the school, young 
 Payne was seized with the desire to emulate 
 the career of Betty and become the Young 
 Roscius of America. A distinguished actor 
 
 * Memoirs of the Life of George Frederick Cooke. Wm. 
 Dunlap. New York. 1813. Vol. i. Pg. 326. 
 
 18 
 
in Boston who had seen Payne conceived a 
 like idea and broached the subject to the 
 elder Payne, offering to take charge of his 
 son. We can well imagine the effect of such 
 an offer. Never had the father suspected the 
 desire that was smouldering in his son's 
 breast, unwittingly kindled by the very lines 
 of study which he himself had so conscien- 
 tiously recommended and taught to him. 
 
 In general alarm, the elder Payne and his 
 friends attempted by every known means to 
 discourage the idea of the Stage. A theatri- 
 cal tendency, however, seems to have been 
 born in Payne, and once aroused it was not 
 to be put down. When he was forbidden to 
 think of acting he managed in some way to 
 see most of the principal players performing 
 in Boston and satisfied himself for the time 
 by writing criticisms which, on their merit, 
 were gladly accepted by the newspapers. 
 
 In the capacity of critic, Payne at this 
 time became acquainted with Samuel Wood- 
 worth, later distinguished as the author of 
 the song, "The Old Oaken Bucket." Wood- 
 worth, a boy of about Payne's age, was 
 engaged in learning the printer's trade. He 
 found time, however, to publish a little paper 
 
 19 
 
of his own called The Fly, and in this ven- 
 ture Payne became associated with him. 
 
 Payne was now in his thirteenth year. He 
 had been successful in various boyish en- 
 terprises, he was a contributor to the papers 
 of the day, and was already attracting more 
 than usual attention. His development had 
 been rapid. We find him occupied by in- 
 terests which are at the present day far be- 
 yond the well-informed young man of twenty. 
 Interesting, as indicative of this early develop- 
 ment, are portions of one of the earliest of his 
 letters extant, written to Miss Maria Theresa 
 Gold, and dated February i, 1804, in which 
 he details, in a most amusing manner, "a 
 brief view of the chit-chat of the day." ^ — 
 
 "The most recent and perhaps one of the 
 most calamitous occurrences which have lately 
 taken place, is a fire which has consumed the 
 whole property of the editors of your favorite 
 little paper, the Magazine, with cash, not 
 their own, to the amount of two thousand 
 
 ^ All quotations from letters, unless otherwise noted, are 
 from the Payne Letter Book, now in the possession of the 
 writer, or from original letters in the library of Union College, 
 access to which was granted the writer by the courtesy of the 
 college authorities. 
 
 20 
 
dollars! They had acquired by their labours 
 (and hard labours too), a handsome compe- 
 tency, and held no humble place in the Temple 
 of Fortune. But at one blow, they and their 
 families are stripped of their resources and 
 embarrassed with a heavy debt. Unhappy 
 men! — Some of our citizens have suggested 
 a subscription for their relief. It is probable 
 that in a short time it will render them some 
 valuable aid. 
 
 "The town has for a few weeks past been 
 all in a ferment respecting a proposal for en- 
 larging it by adding a part of Dorchester, and 
 building a connecting bridge across the river. 
 The curiosity excited, as well as the more 
 actuating sensibilities of interest, at the great 
 town meeting produced a scene which was 
 highly entertaining to those who loved to see 
 the effect of the ruling passions. I think it 
 came fairly to the following description of 
 the laughter-exciting McFingal: — 
 
 Each listening ear was set on torture, 
 
 While all were bellowing out, " To order^^ — 
 
 And some, with tongue not low or weak. 
 
 Were clam'ring fast for leave to speak. 
 
 The Moderator, with great vi'lence, 
 
 The cushion thump'd, with "Silence-Silence" 
 
 21 
 
The constable to ev'ry prater 
 Bawl'd out, ^^ Pray hear the moderator ^^ — 
 Some call'd the vote, and some in turn 
 Were screaming high, ^^ Adjourn-Adjourn^^ — 
 Not chaos heard such jars and clashes, 
 When all the el'ments fought for places ! 
 
 "But, to quit this subject, what think you 
 of the prevailing taste for dress ? The papers 
 tell us that Madame Jerome Bonaparte, who 
 adds much to the gaiety of the fashionable 
 and polite circles at Washington, notwith- 
 standing the inclemency of the season, is 
 drest so airily that one may put all her 
 clothes into a snuff box! ! — I should think it 
 required a very lively fancy to keep one warm 
 in such a dress — but newspapers are apt to 
 exaggerate. 
 
 "The taste for amusement does not lessen 
 here. The public places are increasing. I do 
 not know that they will become more numer- 
 ous than the churches, but I very much fear 
 that they will be more numerously attended." 
 
 On March 24, 1804, occurred the death of 
 William Osborn, Payne's elder brother, who 
 had been the junior partner of the firm of 
 Forbes & Payne, a mercantile house in New 
 
 22 
 
York. Here seemed a solution of the problem 
 that was vexing the elder Payne. A mercan- 
 tile career was decided upon as a means of 
 turning in another direction the energies and 
 thoughts which John Howard was directing 
 to the Stage, The decision was not made 
 hastily, and the idea evidently met with much 
 opposition on the part of young Payne, as not 
 until November of the following year were 
 the home ties broken and he set out for New 
 York to learn the business of his late brother 
 under the direction of the surviving partner, 
 Mr. Forbes. 
 
 It is evident that Mr. Forbes had received 
 definite instructions from Payne's father to 
 watch carefully for any noticeable inclina- 
 tion on the part of his son toward the theater, 
 and to nip it in the bud. It is also evident 
 that from the very first the means adopted by 
 Forbes for the accomplishment of this end 
 were so unsuited to the temperament of 
 Payne that instead of decreasing his interest 
 in the Stage they rather forced him to turn 
 toward it for whatever interest and pleasure 
 he was to get out of the unhappy position 
 in which he found himself. 
 
 A letter of Payne written to his father on 
 23 
 
December 12, 1805, soon after his establish- 
 ment in New York is of interest. Granting 
 that the first touches of homesickness coupled 
 with an extremely sensitive nature magnified 
 to some degree the errors of judgment and 
 the sledge-hammer tactics of Mr. Forbes, we 
 can feel only sympathy for the boy in a posi- 
 tion so foreign to his tastes and desires. — 
 
 "I am now almost a fortnight without 
 advices of any kind from Boston, and this has 
 served to heighten the gloom of my present 
 situation, which I assure you is even more 
 tedious than I anticipated. 
 
 "Distinct from those sensations which ever 
 attend so entire a change of situation as mine 
 has been, circumstances have occurred to 
 render it almost insupportably burthensome. 
 There was something in the manner and con- 
 duct of Mr. Forbes from the first which struck 
 me very forcibly. I have, with all my faults, 
 a heart, perhaps too feeling for this world, 
 and which may possibly betray me into mis- 
 conceptions; but of this I am certain, with 
 Mr. Forbes I never can he happy, 
 
 " I will relate some instances of marked In- 
 attention. When I landed at Mr. Forbes's 
 
 24 
 
from the stage, he was not at home, but when 
 he returned, he ran in, embraced Mrs. Sturgis 
 and was very lively and appeared very happy 
 to see her and her husband. After this, he 
 turned round to me, and without passing any 
 of the customary civilities said, 'Have you 
 brought any letters.?' with an air of rough- 
 ness. I remained there till dinner was over, 
 when he (notwithstanding your request and 
 mine) sent me to the store, where I was set 
 to writing and detained till late night, very 
 laboriously employed; which, added to the 
 fatigues of the day, made me excessively 
 tired. However, on repeating my request, I 
 had from Monday morning to Wednesday 
 for myself, which was occupied in executing 
 little commissions for Mrs. Sturgis, etc., but 
 about six o'clock on Wednesday Mr. Forbes 
 sent a messenger to Mrs. Saltonstall's to ask 
 how I came to absent myself so long from the 
 store, and requiring my immediate presence 
 there. I obeyed the summons and on my 
 arrival Mr. Forbes said that he had not seen 
 me for a long time, and asked where I had 
 been. I gave him a correct account and added 
 that I had his leave of absence; also that I 
 had been unwell (of which I am not yet 
 
 25 
 
recovered) and that delayed my coming. He 
 said nothing, but detained me 'til late in the 
 store. I afterwards was led to suspect his 
 motive, which was that ^a young gentleman^ 
 was advertised to make his first appearance 
 at the theater, which he probably supposed 
 must be me! ! I have since been kept hard 
 at work, — prohibited, under the most strict 
 orders, every amusement and denied even the 
 possibility of obtaining the means for indulg- 
 ing in any sort of recreation. 
 
 "This evening I had a newspaper which I 
 purchased on account of some things which 
 it contained interesting to me, and Mr. 
 Forbes finding it on a window seat near 
 me — 
 
 * Whose paper is this?' said he to Mr. Chew. 
 
 * I believe it is Mr. Payne's,' was the answer. 
 'John's!' said he, — then turning to me — 
 'John, how came you by this paper?' 
 
 'I purchased it, Sir.' 
 'Who gave you money?' 
 'It was some that I had of my own.' 
 'How came you to purchase it?' 
 'I was sensible of no impropriety in pur- 
 chasing a newspaper, Sir,' said I, 'and I got 
 it on account of an address it contained of 
 
 26 
 
the Misses Hodgkinson, which was spoken 
 at their benefit.' ^ Here I touch'd the vibrat- 
 ing chord — the Theater! and I was soundly- 
 rated for it. That you n/iay be convinced 
 of its not being an improper paper to read, 
 I will inform you that it was only Cole- 
 man's very celebrated Evening Post, or Daily 
 Advertiser. 
 
 "I assure you that I wait with the great- 
 est impatience to hear from you, to be ad- 
 vised how to act. Now I am truly wretched ! 
 / had anticipated as much, but now 'tis real- 
 ised. I would, however, say that it hurts me 
 to write, as much as it must you to read, 
 this account. Mr. Forbes is to others kind 
 and gentle — to me inattentive and almost 
 insolent. I am willing to pursue the mer- 
 cantile profession, or any one you may choose. 
 Mr. I. Sturgis, for instance, would be such 
 a master as I should prefer, and could I 
 occasionally, for amusement, indulge in the- 
 atrical essays, 'twould render a situation with 
 such a man the most desirable thing to me 
 on earth. 
 
 "One thing more. Mr. Chew, for some 
 
 ^ Payne afterwards reprinted this in the Mirror. See 
 fac-similes following page 164 of this volume. 
 
 27 
 
things I had done for him, made me a pres- 
 ent of a dollar, which Mr. Forbes discover- 
 ing, reprimanded him, saying he should not 
 be so intimate with me. I was very unwell 
 the other evening with a sick headache, pain 
 in bowels, &c, but Mr. Forbes would not 
 allow me to leave store, and when I went 
 away late told me that I 'must get well against 
 morning.' On Sunday (being leisure) I have 
 requested Mrs. Saltonstall to give me the rhu- 
 barb and calomel, which I feel the need of." 
 
 Payne's father and brother had made many 
 friends in New York, and these friends were 
 not slow in coming forward and bestowing 
 "great attentions" on John Howard. The 
 elder Payne had not counted in vain upon 
 the assistance of these friends in turning the 
 mind of his son from his ideas of the Stage. 
 That their influence was exerted at the very 
 start is shown in a letter of December 20, 
 1805, from Payne to Robert T. Paine, Jr.,^ 
 not more than a month after his arrival. — 
 
 ^ Payne seems to have had a strong admiration for 
 Robert Treat Paine, Jr., and to have carried on a corre- 
 spondence with him until the death of the latter in 1811. 
 Robert Treat Paine, Jr., was at this time thirty-two years of 
 age; or eighteen years the senior of John Howard, and it is 
 
 28 
 
"My situation in this city Is not that which 
 a few months since I had contemplated. 
 The prejudices of my friends against the 
 Stage have induced me in deference to their 
 superior judgment to gaze no longer on its 
 pleasures. I may no longer fancy myself a 
 theatrical hero — enough that I know the 
 honor of being a Merchants Apprentice — 
 perhaps another Dick! In my humble opin- 
 ion, however, the poor drama is unwarrant- 
 ably abused. Like other — indeed, all — 
 professions, it has its unworthy servants; and 
 I know not why it should have, or whether it 
 truly has, more disreputable followers than 
 most of the other branches of civilized society." 
 
 His resolution, however, seems to have 
 been far from decisive, for but six days later, 
 on December 26, In a long letter to his father, 
 he writes : — 
 
 "My situation grows easier. I shall not 
 relax my endeavors to please, but I acknowl- 
 edge that such unremitted application does 
 
 interesting to find Payne thus prefacing the letter quoted: 
 "From the letters of one whose pen has so often called 
 forth the admiration of the world, I anticipate no little im- 
 provement; and in the friendship of one, whose friendship 
 would to any one be an honor, I promise myself no little 
 enjoyment." 
 
 29 
 
not perfectly agree with my health, being 
 very frequently subject to those turns of 
 dizziness which I had sometime ago. I attrib- 
 ute this, however, to my not having taken 
 any medicine, as I intended; and on account 
 of one of these turns a few days since which 
 lasted me near ten minutes I have resolved 
 to treat myself to some rhubarb and calomel 
 on Sunday. 
 
 "Mr. Forbes is, believe me, very distant; 
 but I find on studying him that it is his 
 natural disposition. He makes use of every 
 expedient to keep me from the Theater; and 
 on every play night makes it a point regularly 
 to give me business enough to last till about 
 nine o'clock.^ This, however, is nothing very 
 serious. I only note it that you may see his 
 course. 
 
 "You are well acquainted with my pre- 
 possession for the Stage; and you probably 
 know, my dear Father, that as often as the 
 passion has burst into a flame, so often I 
 strove to suppress it; but though my exer- 
 tions have been partially successful, I cannot 
 eradicate it entirely. A term of three years 
 
 ^ In his theatrical criticisms printed in the Mirror, Payne 
 frequently said that he arrived late at the theater. 
 
 30 
 
has witnessed the fact; and after many 
 schemes for the indulgence of my object and 
 after reflecting during the space of a fortnight 
 upon it, after mature deliberation, I have 
 pitched upon the following resolution: 
 
 "In case I get liberty from home to appear 
 on the boards of this city (say in any case not 
 more than once per week), and so regulated 
 as not to interfere with other concerns, I will 
 positively relinquish all pretensions to follow 
 it professionally, and apply with all possible 
 diligence to my present pursuit. It is, I 
 assure you, the partial indulgence of this 
 desire in Boston that kept me so long con- 
 tented from following it more publickly. 
 
 "To enforce my request I would refer you 
 to many instances in which such indulgences 
 have been suppressed by those opposed by 
 prejudice against the profession, and have 
 had a serious termination. 
 
 "I can get such an engagement here as 
 would agree with my plan and yield a hand- 
 some profit, which I should insist on devoting 
 to the use of the family. 
 
 "I had hoped, but without success, to con- 
 tent me without this, but I find it after much 
 struggling absolutely impossible. 
 
 31 
 
"Could you send me a little money to 
 purchase me a tooth brush, get my hair cut, 
 &c, — as from the tenor of what has been 
 hinted by Mr. Forbes, I find he is not disposed 
 to give me any pocket money; and this, you 
 observed to me, you expected would be the 
 
 case." 
 
 In Boston, when Payne had been deprived 
 of his favorite amusement he had had re- 
 course to his pen; so. In New York, when he 
 found a like condition awaiting him he de- 
 cided to meet It as he had in Boston; and on 
 December 28, 1805, anonymously appeared 
 the first number of a little weekly publica- 
 tion, entitled the Thespian Mirror,'^ printed 
 for the Editor by Southwick and Hardcastle, 
 No. 2 Wall Street. 
 
 As noted in his Introduction, It was the 
 purpose of the Editor in presenting the sheet 
 to the "enlightened citizens of New York," 
 to exhibit "a specimen in matter and manner 
 of a work, which on sufficient encouragement, 
 would be Issued in the metropolis; the work 
 
 ^ The Thespian Mirror was issued on Saturday evenings. 
 The publication was of octavo size, and well printed on good 
 paper. 
 
 32 
 
to comprehend a collection of Interesting 
 documents relative to the stage, and Its 
 performers; chiefly Intended to promote the 
 interests of the American drama, and to erad- 
 icate false impressions respecting the nature, 
 objects, design and tendency of theatrical 
 
 AMUSEMENTS." 
 
 It had at first been Payne's plan to issue a 
 literary paper, and without communicating 
 his plan he had composed a prospectus for a 
 publication to be known as the Pastime, in- 
 tended for the perusal of youth only. After 
 some reflection, considering the existing num- 
 ber of papers called "literary," and believ- 
 ing the habits of the citizens of New York — 
 as stated in No. XIV of the Thespian Mir- 
 ror'^ "better calculated to encourage a work 
 more intimately connected with the prevail- 
 ing thirst for pleasure," he had recourse to 
 his favorite topic, and struck the plan of the 
 Thespian Mirror. He seems to have secured 
 pecuniary supplies which enabled him to 
 enter upon the work; the printers were ap- 
 plied to; and it was but three days from the 
 moment of the first projection to that of 
 
 1 Thespian Mirror^ Number XIV. See facsimile in back of 
 this volume. 
 
 33 
 
publication — a period more inconsiderable 
 when it is remembered that the only time at 
 his command was before eight in the morn- 
 ing and after eight in the evening. Three 
 young gentlemen, two of them fellow clerks 
 in the store, were alone entrusted with the 
 secret. 
 
 Following the issue of the first number a 
 few subscribers appeared and such compli- 
 mentary notice ^ was given to the Mirror by 
 the newspapers that Payne was encouraged 
 to proceed. 
 
 During the week a note appeared In the 
 Evening Post apologizing for the delay of 
 "Criticus" in reviewing the Thespian Mirror. 
 Several errors had appeared in the first 
 
 * Letter to his father, February lo, 1806: — 
 "I enclose, according to your request, the other paper of 
 this city in which the remarks on the Mirror appeared. These 
 were the first ever published; being inserted a month before 
 Mr. Coleman's appeared. Paragraphs have been inserted in 
 almost all the papers of the United States, — the most 
 flattering and detailed of which were in the Political Register^ 
 edited by Mayor Jackson, Philadelphia; — Port Folio, same 
 place; — Albany Centinel; — Federal Gazette, Baltimore; — 
 Balance, Hudson; — Daily Advertiser, Philadelphia, etc., etc. 
 Had I these, they should be at once yours, but I have only 
 had a simple glance at them, when in another person's posses- 
 sion. The purport of the whole is pretty much the same as Mr. 
 Coleman's, and I assure you nothing has yet appeared which 
 is otherwise than complimentary." 
 
 34 
 
number, but had escaped the notice of the 
 papers. The word "Criticus" seems to have 
 struck terror to the heart of the young 
 editor; — a critical article on his work was 
 promised, and he felt that it would lay bare 
 all the little errors of his work and set at 
 naught the so far favorable comments. In 
 fear he hurried to the counting room, and 
 sent the following note to Mr. William Cole- 
 man, the editor of the Post: — 
 
 "The editor of the Thespian Mirror, hav- 
 ing observed a note in the Post of this even- 
 ing, promising some remarks on his work, 
 would like the liberty of asking Mr. Coleman 
 whether they are or are not in favor of the 
 publication.'* He makes this request, which 
 may appear singular, on account of some in- 
 accuracies which crept into the first number 
 through entire accident; and which, though 
 by the community they might pass unnoticed, 
 would not probably escape the attention of 
 the Criticus. He would further observe that 
 though his extreme youth, being under the 
 age of fourteen, might in the eyes of many be 
 considered sufficient to deter him from an 
 undertaking of such magnitude, it was com- 
 
 35 
 
menced with a laudable design, and as some 
 apology for its errors, was an unassisted 
 attempt." 
 
 "I perused the note," writes Mr. Coleman 
 in the New York Evening Post of January 24, 
 1805, "a second time and it will not, I think, 
 be considered strange or harsh that I was 
 incredulous to the story of the writer's youth. 
 I turned to his paper, and my credulity was 
 by no means lessened. It was difficult to be- 
 lieve that a boy of thirteen years of age could 
 possibly possess such strength and maturity 
 of intellect." 
 
 In spite of his skepticism Mr. Coleman's 
 curiosity was aroused, and his answer to 
 Payne's note was as follows : ^ — 
 
 "Mr. Coleman is sorry to be compelled to 
 answer the editor of the Thespian Mirror in 
 a manner unpleasant to him; but he has to 
 inform him that the remarks on the Thespian 
 Mirror are unfavourable; and he will in 
 candor add that Criticus was detained, that 
 his remarks might be still further extended 
 
 ^ Thespian Mirror, Number XIV. 
 36 
 
and enforced by himself, and at the same 
 time that proper and approbatory notice 
 might be taken by him, in the same article, 
 of the Theatrical Censor, of Philadelphia, a 
 work of unusual merit. 
 
 "The note of the editor of the Thespian 
 Mirror, mentioning the extreme youth of the 
 writer, must disarm him of severity; and he 
 would be glad to see the juvenile author at 
 his house, to take tea with him this evening. 
 No. 30, Hudson street. Perhaps the visit 
 may not be unserviceable to this young 
 gentleman in his future progress." 
 
 Payne accepted the invitation, but his 
 duties in the counting room detained him 
 until so late an hour that when he arrived 
 Mr. Coleman had gone out. Payne returned 
 in the morning, and this time was more suc- 
 cessful. Of the meeting and of his impres- 
 sions Mr. Coleman writes in the same article 
 in the Post: — 
 
 "I conversed with him for an hour; in- 
 quired into his history — the time since he 
 came to reside in this city — he told me he 
 was a native of New York, but was taken 
 
 37 
 
when an infant to Boston — and his object 
 in setting on foot the publication in ques- 
 tion. His answers were such as to dispel all 
 doubts as to any imposition, and I found 
 that it required an effort on my part to keep 
 up the conversation in as choice a style as 
 his own." 
 
 It was Mr. Coleman's advice that Payne 
 give up at once his project of the Mirror. 
 Besides the want of time for it, without tax- 
 ing his hours of sleep at the certain expense 
 of his health, it seemed objectionable as 
 "encouraging a turn of thinking very in- 
 compatible with mercantile pursuits and 
 which could have no other consequence than 
 to unfit him for the prosecution of business 
 by rendering it an object of perpetual disgust." 
 
 To Mr. Coleman's advice — perhaps from 
 a certain sense of vanity, the result of his 
 partial success — Payne turned a deaf ear; 
 and on his refusal, Mr. Coleman in admira- 
 tion volunteered his services in aid of the 
 undertaking. 
 
 That the Mirror might become better 
 known and appreciated because of the youth- 
 fulness of its editor, with Payne's acquies- 
 
 38 
 
cence, Mr. Coleman in the Evening Post of 
 January 24, placed before the public the facts 
 regarding its publication, and of his meeting 
 and connection with the editor. 
 
 Possibly fearing his family's censure and 
 disapproval, Payne had kept them in igno- 
 rance of his literary venture. With the pub- 
 lication of Mr. Coleman's article, conceal- 
 ment was no longer possible, and a few days 
 later he writes to his father: — 
 
 "I have fiot yet informed you that I am 
 concerned in a little periodical publication 
 here, entitled the Thespian Mirror. I should 
 have told you of it at a much earlier period 
 of my progress, — but I waited to ascertain 
 whether it would meet with that encourage- 
 ment which I am happy to say it has done. 
 The calculation made is for 500 subscribers 
 at $2\ and that number may augment; but 
 at any rate, after deducting the expenses 
 from ^1000, something will remain. That 
 * something,' which cannot prove inconsider- 
 able, will be devoted to the purposes of the 
 family." 
 
 Mr. Coleman's fears had been well founded. 
 Payne's aversion to the counting house in- 
 
 39 
 
creased in proportion to his success and in- 
 terest in the literary field. 
 
 "Bacon has somewhere observed," ^ he 
 writes to his father, "choose for your son 
 that employment which you consider most 
 proper, and habit will render it the most 
 agreeable. Generally speaking, the idea may 
 be a very feasible one, but as respects my- 
 self, I doubt the propriety of its application. 
 The profession which has been chosen for me 
 is one whose constraints I can by no means 
 tolerate. My habits, my wishes, my inclina- 
 tions, are all opposed to the mercantile life. 
 In deference to your judgment I never before 
 expressed my opinion of the choice which it 
 has made. I hoped to reconcile myself to it 
 and I made the effort. The effort has been 
 made, and I am now more thoroughly dis- 
 gusted at the mercantile life than ever." 
 
 Payne seems to have firmly believed that 
 he had made a conscientious effort to follow 
 out his father's wishes toward fitting himself 
 for a mercantile life, yet from the day of his 
 arrival in New York his mind and interests 
 
 * Essays of Francis Bacon, Number VII. Payne is some- 
 what confused as to Bacon's idea. 
 
 40 
 
were elsewhere. If he remained at the count- 
 ing house for twelve hours a day and did the 
 work allotted to him it was only as an autom- 
 aton. Aside from the attention necessarily 
 given to the weekly issues of the Mirror^ he 
 further increased his outside activities by 
 writing a play. The curiosity and wonder 
 with which Payne was regarded ^ was suffi- 
 cient justification for the production of Julia, 
 or the Wanderer, A Comedy in Five Acts, at 
 the Park Theater on February 7, 1806. This 
 
 ^ A portion of a communication, dated New York, Feb- 
 ruary 4, 1806, and subsequently inserted in the Philadelphia 
 Port-Folio gives us a clear picture of Payne at this time, and 
 of the position accorded him as the result of his literary enter- 
 prise, — "Our fashionables are all awake to the sudden ap- 
 pearance of a youth, who may justly be styled a ' lustrous 
 [sic] naturae.' . . . acquaintances have become his friends, 
 and every one is impatient to know him; until the little 
 editor of the Thespian Mirror is almost the only topic of 
 fashionable table-talk. This miraculous youth, whose per- 
 sonal acquaintance I was among the first to be honored with, 
 possesses a person short for one of his age, yet well propor- 
 tioned and graceful; a large blue eye of unusual sweetness 
 and expression; and a complexion of the most susceptible 
 delicacy. The * toute [sic] ensemble ' of his features is dis- 
 crimination and intelligence, added to a vivid consciousness, 
 which is a language to his most latent emotions. His voice 
 is music itself. His conversation is elevated and refined, and 
 his writings, of which the public has yet seen but hasty and 
 imperfect specimens, possess a freedom from affectation, and 
 a strength and maturity of character." 
 
 41 
 
play, published the same year, thus becomes 
 the first published separate writing of Payne; 
 for the Mirror, while edited by him, con- 
 tained many contributions from friends.^ 
 
 It may be possible that Payne, in defiance 
 of his father's wishes, intended making his 
 appearance on the stage during the latter 
 part of January, but was induced by his 
 friends to give it up. Rumor had it that the 
 editor of the Mirror was to appear at the 
 Park Theater as Don Carlos in the Duenna. 
 A large and fashionable audience awaited 
 his appearance, only to be disappointed, 
 while the "Editor" himself in the audience 
 was enjoying the scene. The incident, while 
 amusing, must have been highly gratifying 
 to Payne. The next issue of the Mirror, that 
 of February i, contained the following note: 
 
 ^ Mr. Harrison expresses the opinion that the poems con- 
 tained in the Mirror while attributed to contributors, were 
 undoubtedly written by the Editor himself. A letter of Payne 
 to his father, dated February lo, 1806, shows Mr. Harrison 
 to be incorrect in his surmise. — 
 
 "You will find in No. 7, some excellent poetry by Clara, 
 a greatly celebrated writer here, — her name, Mrs. Rose. 
 Lodinus is Mr. Blauvelt, an intimate of mine. The Lorenzo 
 acknowledged in Notes to Readers and Correspondents in 
 No. 7, is, I understand, Cook Mulligan, your old scholar, who 
 has repeatedly called upon me." 
 
 42 
 
"The Editor of the Mirror was not a little 
 amused on hearing it whispered throughout 
 the boxes, on this occasion, that he was to 
 impersonate Don Carlos in the Duenna; and 
 his amusement was somewhat heightened on 
 the entrance of the expected novitiate. ^ A 
 pretty strapping boy, however,^ exclaimed one — 
 ^pretty tall of his age,'' said another. The 
 Editor begs leave to inform those who still 
 labor under this unfortunate mistake — that 
 he really was not the Don Carlos of Monday 
 Evening! ! ! " 
 
 Mr, Coleman had not been slow to appre- 
 ciate the wonderful mind of John Howard 
 Payne, and the possibilities of its develop- 
 ment. He had been captivated at the first 
 meeting, and his interest thus aroused, con- 
 tinued to increase. It became his particular 
 care to find means for giving Payne a liberal 
 education. Through the medium of the Post, 
 Mr. Coleman had made a public appeal in 
 behalf of his young friend, hoping to interest 
 someone in the matter. The appeal was not 
 without result, for Payne writes to his father 
 on February lo: — 
 
 "It was mentioned to me, but not directly 
 from the parties concerned, that the Profes- 
 
 43 
 
sors of Columbia College have had a meet- 
 ing, in which it has been agreed to give me 
 my education gratis, excepting the expense 
 of books, which is estimated at ^35 for the 
 whole time." 
 
 It was the wish of Mr. Coleman, as ex- 
 pressed in a letter of January 21, 1806, to 
 Payne's father, that a fund be established, 
 "by the liberality of a few private gentle- 
 men," to give Payne a college education and 
 have him finish with a law course; or in 
 failure of this project, to find him a situation 
 in some lawyer's office under some gentleman, 
 "whose character, situation, connection and 
 professional celebrity would be security for 
 his having every advantage both mental and 
 moral and in whose family he could reside." 
 By personal solicitation, Mr. Coleman had 
 partially interested in the establishment of 
 such a fund, "Dr. Hosack, Judge Pendleton, 
 Mr. Wilkins, and a number of gentlemen of 
 equal respectability and fortune," ^ when on 
 the twenty-ninth, he laid his plans before 
 Payne's father: — 
 
 ' Payne to his father, January 31, 1806. 
 
 44 
 
" Altho I have not the pleasure of a personal 
 acquaintance with you, yet I am to presume 
 that the subject of my address will in itself 
 convey an apology for the informality of a 
 letter from an entire stranger. — 
 
 "As you probably will have seen the Even- 
 ing Post of Friday and Saturday last before 
 this reaches you, it renders it quite unneces- 
 sary for me here to express the admiration 
 and the warm regard I feel for your wonder- 
 ful son; as amiable in disposition, ingenuous 
 in behavior, correct in sentiment as wonderful 
 in talents. I have to lament the want of 
 those means which could justify me in pro- 
 posing to take him home and give him such 
 an education as he is by his rare capacity 
 entitled to. My proportion of this world's 
 goods is however as scanty as my disposition 
 is otherwise. My earnest desire to do some- 
 thing for the lad and to procure for him a 
 better situation than the drudgery and dull- 
 ness of a counting house, with which I found 
 him disgusted on my first acquaintance, led 
 me to look abroad for some patron whose 
 ability might be equal to his liberality. Be- 
 fore anything decisive can be attempted, 
 however, I consider it due to you. Sir, and 
 
 45 
 
every way proper and necessary that you 
 should be consulted and your paternal ap- 
 probation obtained." 
 
 Before sending the letter to his father, Mr. 
 Coleman had handed it to Payne for inspec- 
 tion — a letter "which was not only a piece 
 of politeness," writes Payne to his father in 
 commenting upon it, "equally unexpected 
 and undeserved, but a flattering assurance of 
 disinterested friendship which had not once 
 entered my ideas." 
 
 While the proposal of Mr. Coleman offered 
 a means of obtaining that education which 
 Payne had hoped for as an end to fixing his 
 attention on some vocation where he could 
 indulge his taste for literature he did not at 
 once signify his intention of accepting it. 
 
 "Would it not be nobler to work for my 
 living ? " he writes to his father. "Would there 
 not be more satisfaction in knowing that I sup- 
 ported myself, and not contract obligations 
 to gentlemen to whom I am, as it were, a 
 stranger, — and which in all probability I 
 should never be able to repay. To effect, 
 therefore, this object by my own exertions 
 would it not be well to continue the Mirror, 
 
 46 
 
which will pay my board and clothing, leav- 
 ing me $200 clear of all expenses, which alone 
 might be made useful to the family. 
 
 Board can be had at ^3.50 pr. 
 
 wk, being pr. an ^182. 
 
 Other expenses could not exceed 118. $300. 
 Therefore, the proceeds of the 
 
 paper, yielding S^O- 
 
 Would leave a balance of . . . $200." 
 
 While Payne was writing these rather ad- 
 mirable sentiments he was approached by Mr. 
 John E. Seaman, "a merchant of the first 
 respectability in the city." Mr. Seaman, well 
 known for his philanthropy, had been a 
 "very particular friend" of his brother Wil- 
 liam, and because of this friendship he was 
 led to take more than a passing interest in 
 the affairs of John Howard, and to offer at 
 this juncture to "support him till of age in 
 any profession of respectability which he 
 might prefer." Mr. Seaman — captivated 
 by Payne, as were all who came in contact 
 with him — and carried away by his enthusi- 
 asm, must have painted a very attractive 
 picture in making his proposal. Certain it is 
 that Payne, perhaps feeling that the friend- 
 
 47 
 
ship between his late brother and Mr. Sea- 
 man placed the latter a little nearer to him 
 than the others who had volunteered their 
 assistance, and conceiving from the circum- 
 stance of this friendship that Mr. Seaman had 
 a superior claim upon him, cast to the winds 
 his ideas of self-support, and at once accepted 
 the proposal, contingent only upon his fa- 
 ther's consent. 
 
 With "feelings struggling between con- 
 tending emotions and wishes, and the melan- 
 choly determination" to do what was best for 
 all, even at the expense of pride, the elder 
 Payne consented to accept the proffered aid of 
 Mr. Seaman. 
 
 Having obtained this consent Mr. Seaman 
 began to lay his plans for the future. We can 
 see to what extent his enthusiasm carried 
 him when we find him at once proposing to 
 adopt Payne, subject to the ideas of his father, 
 and to consider him in all respects his son. 
 "Should he ever marry and have children he 
 would in his eventual provision for them put 
 his adopted son on exactly the same footing 
 with the rest. Should he never marry, then 
 he would make him his heir." 
 
 Mr. Coleman was delighted that aid had 
 48 
 
been secured for his young friend, yet in the 
 enthusiasm of Mr. Seaman and in the arrange- 
 ments proposed for adoption he felt that 
 things were moving too rapidly for safety. 
 *' Somehow I have a sort of lurking disinclina- 
 tion about my heart — whether it proceeds 
 from an excess of affection for this sweet boy 
 or is the conclusion of my best judgment I 
 do not exactly know — but methinks I would 
 rather defer the period of adoption till after 
 your son shall have completed his studies, 
 and become ready to shape his course in the 
 world — then Mr. Seaman will have less 
 opening to complain of disappointment in his 
 ultimate views, and by that time your son 
 and yourself will have acquired an intimate 
 knowledge of him not yet to be expected. I 
 mean a knowledge of his temper, disposition, 
 views, wishes, &c, &c, in short everything 
 about him that can be brought to bear on 
 the happiness of one so dear to you and to 
 me and to us all." 
 
 In compliance with the wish of Mr. Seaman, 
 Payne now consented to abandon the publica- 
 tion of the Mirror. Two months before when 
 Mr. Coleman endeavored to influence him to 
 
 49 
 
this end he had been met with a stubborn re- 
 fusal. When several more numbers appeared, 
 Payne saw that Mr. Coleman had been right, 
 and his ready acquiescence In the wish of Mr. 
 Seaman was perhaps Influenced by this realiza- 
 tion. Writing on October 28, to the editor of 
 the Troy Gazette, Payne thus comments on his 
 work : — 
 
 "My Thespian Mirror Is hardly worth 
 your notice, but I request your acceptance 
 of the volume accompanying this. It may 
 amuse some unemployed moments, and per- 
 haps the errors of youth may be buried in 
 the bosom of friendship. 
 
 "Born as it was and nurtured in the midst 
 of Invoices and accounts, it partook not a 
 little of the crudity of the merchant's Letter 
 Book. The miscellany is as particolored as a 
 French milliner's holiday suit, and has seen, 
 perhaps, as variegated a career as any thing 
 of the same nature ever yet did before It. 
 
 "I was not equal to the task which I under- 
 took, and I freely acknowledge my weakness." 
 
 The thirteenth, and last, regular number 
 of the Thespian Mirror appeared on March 
 
 50 
 
22, i8o6. In the editor's address, announc- 
 ing the discontinuance of the enterprise, and 
 giving the plans of the editor for the future, 
 the name of John Howard Payne appears in 
 the publication for the first time. 
 
 Payne seems to have caught Mr. Seaman's 
 enthusiasm, and in proportion as he came to 
 lean toward him, he drifted away from Mr. 
 Coleman. In the above mentioned address, 
 while remarking upon the arrangements made 
 for his future education Payne tactlessly makes 
 no mention of the large part played by Mr. 
 Coleman, attributing his good fortune solely 
 to Mr. Seaman. Mr. Coleman noticed the 
 number containing the address, in a subse- 
 quent issue of the Post. Reports came to 
 Payne that Mr. Coleman had ''expressed 
 prejudicial insinuations against him," and 
 had endeavored to injure him in the opinion 
 of Mr. Seaman. The sparks of indignation 
 burst into a flame, and Payne hastened to 
 Mr. Coleman demanding an explanation. 
 
 (( 
 
 I said nothing of himself personally," 
 writes Payne, in explaining the affair to his 
 father, "but assured him that from a friend 
 I had heard that some one had uttered such 
 
 SI 
 
Insinuations. I spoke of the baseness of the 
 act — to injure me with a patron, and situated 
 as I was with Mr. Seaman, — I told him 
 that If true, mankind ought to regret the 
 existence of such a character. I then made 
 some remarks on his showing a letter of mine 
 to Mr. Seaman, to which he only replied that 
 he believed I saw things through a very distorted 
 medium. I told him, * distorted' as the me- 
 dium might be I was always awake to Injury; 
 and that I should be glad to have some advice 
 as to any further procedures against a person 
 so base and so hypocritical. He told me, 
 with the consciousness of guilt upon his face, 
 that as he did not know what I was talking 
 about he could hold no conversation upon 
 the subject; and asked me to come to his 
 house as Mrs. Coleman wanted to see me. I 
 bade him good morning and we parted. I 
 have casually met him since; have called on 
 Mrs. Coleman, but have had no particular 
 interviews." 
 
 The misunderstanding between Payne and 
 Mr. Coleman, from whatever causes brought 
 about, was regrettable In the extreme, and 
 in Payne's attitude we find the first public 
 
 52 
 
exhibition of that quick and fiery temper 
 that was later to cause him so much trouble. 
 
 Six days previous to the issue of the thir- 
 teenth number of the Mirror, Payne — at the 
 instance of Mr. Seaman — left for Boston to 
 pay a visit to his parents before taking up in 
 earnest the new career before him. 
 
 In considering the various attainments of 
 John Howard Payne at this period we should 
 not lose sight of the fact that he had not 
 reached his fifteenth birthday. He had al- 
 ready become a person of prominence. At- 
 tentions were showered upon him, the papers 
 were filled with accounts of his accomplish- 
 ments, and he was on terms of intimacy with 
 most of the literati and persons of impor- 
 tance in the first social circles of New York. 
 
 On February 14, 1806, Mr. Seaman wrote 
 to Payne's father that he was "apprehensive 
 that he might become intoxicated with the 
 flattering and continued attentions shown 
 him, and that he might sink his love of study 
 into the more fascinating but less substantial 
 charms of society." For this reason he 
 feared to enter Payne in one of the seminaries 
 in the city. Princeton College was therefore 
 chosen. "There," said Mr. Seaman, "being 
 
 S3 
 
free from the seducing and baleful vices of a 
 large commercial city like New York, he 
 could pursue his studies with uninterrupted 
 ardor." 
 
 Mr. Seaman entered upon the plans for 
 Payne's care at college with the same lavlsh- 
 ness as characterized his other plans for his 
 future. Payne was to have a horse always 
 at his command, and doubtless many other 
 luxuries were suggested in the enthusiasm of 
 the moment. 
 
 While Payne was in Boston, Mr. Seaman 
 had an opportunity to review his plans dis- 
 passionately. The Princeton idea was at 
 once seen to be impracticable. Princeton 
 while free from certain "seducing charms 
 and baleful vices," was not far enough away 
 from them, and Mr. Seaman began to fear 
 that Payne would be too often in town; for 
 with the horse he had been promised, he 
 could easily make the trip, and would prob- 
 ably take occasion to do so whenever it was 
 his desire. 
 
 As the college best fitted to fulfill all the 
 requirements of the case Union College at 
 Schenectady, New York, then under the 
 direction of the well-known educator Dr 
 
 54 
 
EHphalet Nott ^ was definitely chosen and 
 on Payne's return to New York about the 
 middle of April the change of plan was made 
 known to him. Payne was keenly disap- 
 pointed, and not until the middle of June 
 was all in readiness for his journey to 
 Schenectady. 
 
 "The matter has been delayed from my 
 own opposition," he writes to his father on 
 June 3, "as it must be allowed that In a 
 cloistered solitude like that which I am about 
 to encounter there is nothing inviting and 
 nothing pleasing to a mind which has here- 
 tofore been rather withdrawn than otherwise 
 from regular duties and regular study. This 
 premised self-denial and humiliation Is an- 
 ticipated as unavoidable. I know that Mr. 
 Nott is so well aware of my situation and 
 circumstances that every endeavor In his 
 power will be exerted to situate me pleas- 
 antly and agreeably. It must at the same 
 time be recollected that the consent on my 
 part to going was entirely — as I told that 
 
 ^ Dr. Nott was now at the age of thirty-three. Two years 
 before this time he had assumed the Presidency of Union 
 College, a then struggling institution. His career is perhaps 
 without a parallel in the history of American education. 
 
 55 
 
gentleman — in deference to Mr. Seaman's 
 judgment; that for myself I looked upon it 
 as I should to enter the State's Prison, for 
 the same term." 
 
 Three days later he wrote, — "I assure 
 you that the remarks which you advance 
 relative to resolution of mind and a power of 
 rendering ourselves happy in any situation 
 of life had no trifling effect in producing my 
 acceptance of the Schenectady Plan." 
 
 It had been Payne's purpose, after the 
 distribution of the last number of the Thes- 
 pian Mirror, to dismiss the work, in accord- 
 ance with his promise to Mr. Seaman, "with 
 some editorial remarks, an index and a title- 
 page for the use of such subscribers as con- 
 sidered the numbers worthy of preservation; 
 but in the execution of the plan, finding that 
 the design exceeded its limits," he issued on 
 May 31, as a supplement, with Mr. Seaman's 
 approval — in fact Mr. Seaman offered to 
 defray all expenses — the now extremely 
 rare fourteenth^ number, in which he took 
 
 ^ There is nothing to indicate that any of the biographers 
 of Payne have had access to the "Fourteenth Number." 
 Mr. Harrison evidently knew of its existence; but he shows 
 conclusively that he had never seen the issue, when he 
 states: — "The Mirror ran through fourteen numbers, the 
 
 56 
 
occasion to place before his patrons the com- 
 plete history of the publication, with thanks 
 for their patronage, regrets that such pat- 
 ronage was not more deserved, and apologies 
 for the "crude, imperfect and unfinished 
 state" in which the Mirror was necessarily 
 given to the public. 
 
 With his aifairs satisfactorily adjusted and 
 the final adieus said, Payne set sail from New 
 York early in June on the sloop Swan, arriv- 
 ing at Albany after a most delightful voyage 
 which he thus describes to his father, writing 
 from there on the eighteenth : — 
 
 "I have been in this place since Monday 
 evening; but, engaged by numerous avoca- 
 tions with my new-made friends, have scarcely 
 found time to put pen to paper since my 
 arrival. With the passage and with the pas- 
 sengers to this place I was greatly delighted; 
 but Albany itself is a poor, shabby looking 
 little clump of houses. The jaunt itself is 
 one of the most pleasant on the continent; 
 or at least within the compass of my travels. 
 The passage thro' the highlands is sublime 
 and original. I never found any thing more 
 
 last appearing March 22, 1806." (This was the date of issue 
 of the Thirteenth Number.) 
 
 57 
 
striking; nor can more magnificent prospect 
 be described. The winds are so very pre- 
 carious that no calculation can be made on 
 the passage; and we stopped on our course 
 no less than eight times. This gave a suffi- 
 ciency of time to view the mountainous 
 country and we had many exquisite walks 
 thro' it. I found Colonel Willet^ and Lady 
 very agreeable company. We had two female 
 passengers equally pleasing; and Brown,^ 
 the celebrated American author, afforded me 
 the greatest satisfaction. The rest of the 
 party are going to Montreal tomorrow, via 
 Ballstown; and I am to accompany them. 
 We shall spend a day or two in this place, a 
 day or two in Ballstown, and then return to 
 Schenectady where I shall go to Dr. Nott. 
 This college is universally railed at here for 
 the excessive and unexampled rigidity of its 
 governors. Bad as it may be I cannot now 
 be disappointed." 
 
 Despite the fact that Payne was now on 
 the way to college, with Mr. Seaman paying 
 
 ^ Colonel Marinus Willett, The Hero of Fort Stanwix. 
 ^ Charles Brockden Brown, the American Novelist, born 
 1771, died 1810. 
 
 58 
 
the expenses, and that he had already lost 
 much valuable time, he set out as he had 
 planned with the party for Montreal. 
 
 A remarkable character study is afforded 
 by Payne's description of the trip in a letter 
 written on June 27 to his friend James Lewis, 
 soon after his return to Albany. — 
 
 "Referring you to a letter which I write 
 Mr. Seaman for the particulars of my most 
 adventurous tour I entreat that you will have 
 the goodness to pay the bearer six dollars on 
 my account. After I arrived here I deter- 
 mined to go to Montreal, and set away with 
 a party from the packet, consisting of three 
 ladies and two gentlemen, gentlemen self 
 exclusive. I had but fifteen dollars and was 
 disappointed in all ideas and arrangements 
 for accommodation. Added to this, a dispute 
 with a fellow passenger resolved me to stop 
 at Glen's Falls, and I would go no further. 
 I had then but thirty-three cents in my 
 pocket, six of which I there expended on pen, 
 ink and paper, on which I wrote some verses 
 and journalised ^ my tour. I made an equiv- 
 
 ^ This is undoubtedly the Journal of which Theo. S. Fay- 
 thus writes in the Mirror: — "This Journal was long in the 
 
 59 
 
ocal arrangement with the stageman to re- 
 turn for me; but after passing some most 
 exquisitely lonesome and miserable hours at 
 Glen's Falls, I determined to endeavor to 
 walk to Lake Champlain, twenty-six miles. 
 Without saying a word to anyone of my plan 
 I learnt the route and set away at ten minutes 
 past eight on my journey. Chance led me 
 three miles from my way; but after getting 
 lodging at sixpence, I pursued my proper 
 route in the morning at four, and arrived at 
 the end of the march at twelve o'clock, my 
 only nourishment on the road being milk 
 punch; and after ordering my last glass my 
 
 possession of the late Joseph D. Fay. It is now, we believe, 
 irrecoverably lost, with the exception of the following lines, 
 composed while looking upon the North River by moonlight : " 
 
 On the deck of the slow-sailing vessel, alone, 
 As I silently sat, all was mute as the grave; 
 
 It was night, and the moon mildly beautiful shone, 
 Lighting up with her soft smile the quivering wave. 
 
 So bewitchingly gentle and pure was its beam, 
 In tenderness watching o'er nature's repose. 
 
 That I liken'd its ray to Christianity's gleam. 
 
 When it mellows and soothes without chasing our woes. 
 
 And I felt such an exquisite wildness of sorrow. 
 
 While entranced by the tremulous glow of the deep, 
 
 That I long'd to prevent the intrusion of morrow, 
 And stay there for ever to wonder and weep. 
 60 
 
funds were exhausted, — I was compelled to 
 lay open my situation, — and the landlord 
 very kindly excused me the sixpence. The 
 party hardly believed their eyes when they 
 saw me trudging along. I had to borrow 
 money of the driver to pay my expenses back, 
 and when I returned to Albany I had to 
 borrow of my landlord to pay the driver, 
 eleven dollars. I found at Skeensbro', (Lake 
 Champlain) the black who brings this. He 
 was precisely in my own situation — penny- 
 less. I pitied him, from my own sufferings, 
 and of course I divided my pittance with 
 him, and he has boarded at my charge while 
 here. I paid his passage and have engaged 
 to pay his expenses to New York, where he 
 may find a place. That is the cause of my 
 order, and you will perceive that my de- 
 mands on Mr. Seaman are so great as to 
 compel me to furnish other resources at this 
 moment. I am now here without a half- 
 penny in my long purse. I must be relieved 
 somehow or other; and a little will not 
 suffice. If I walk to Montreal I mean to go, 
 if only to convince my opponent that I am 
 superior to being deterred by spleen and 
 insolence; and that I have enough of per- 
 
 6i 
 
severence to struggle against the current of 
 ill nature and nonsense. 
 
 "To borrow our old phrase, — *are you 
 flush?' I shall expect an immediate answer. 
 If I go to Montreal, I shall take Niagara in 
 the route. Dr. Nott knows my arrangement, 
 but I know him not. 
 
 "It is impossible to board genteelly here 
 under eight dollars a week. I pay that, tho 
 to tell the plain truth I have not money 
 enough to get a piece of linen washed, if I 
 was called on for the cash." 
 
 Before undertaking the Montreal trip, 
 Payne had written to Mr. Seaman to obtain 
 his consent. The letter, as he wrote his 
 father on August 2, "was couched in such 
 terms as he conceived to be undeniable, and 
 urged in a manner which was, in his opinion, 
 fully satisfactory. He had waited unavail- 
 ingly for the receipt of letters, and being at a 
 stand, resolved, expecting that the college 
 vacation took place in July, to take advan- 
 tage of such an opportunity as might not 
 again oifer." 
 
 Payne was influenced and advised in his 
 decision by Colonel Willett, who had sug- 
 
 62 
 
gested the trip; and he did not "of himself 
 obstinately resolve to go to Montreal," as 
 was almost immediately reported ^ to Mr. 
 Seaman by one of the party (Atllar by name) 
 who on some account disaffected towards 
 Payne, on his return to New York represented 
 Payne's conduct on the trip "as altogether 
 blameable," and with his stories succeeded 
 in incensing Mr. Seaman. 
 
 Circumstances similar to this constantly 
 occurring throughout his career, brought on 
 from jealousy or like causes, have not been 
 without their eifect in giving to the general 
 public a wrong idea of John Howard Payne, 
 especially so as Payne seems to have made no 
 eiforts to disprove the assertions. ^ 
 
 A letter from Mr. Seaman awaited Payne 
 on his return to Albany. Now freed from the 
 glamour and provoked at the course pursued 
 by his young ward, Mr. Seaman wrote, "de- 
 claring, among other unqualified expressions, 
 
 * L. T. P. to Mr. Seamans. August i6, 1806. Original 
 letter in the library of Union College. 
 
 2 "The world naust have something to talk about, and 
 they may as well talk of me as any one else. Their gabble 
 does not affect me, and it would be foolish to be affected by 
 it." From Payne's letter of September 23 , 1 806, to his father. 
 The original is in the library of Union College. 
 
 63 
 
that he would be 'trifled with and imposed 
 on no longer.' " 
 
 Payne was sensible of having done no 
 wrong, and Mr. Seaman's letter brought 
 forth a reply in which he gave vent to the 
 warmth of his feelings. Other letters equally 
 impassioned followed on both sides. The 
 refusal of Mr. Seaman to send funds detained 
 Payne in Albany, where he continued to incur 
 debts, keeping his father in ignorance of his 
 affairs. 
 
 How full of good advice and encourage- 
 ment are the letters of the father to the son, 
 who was supposedly now entered upon the 
 career his benefactor had chosen for him! 
 
 "In going from New York you relinquish a 
 little of the mere flutter of society in which 
 a boy of your standing ought never to be 
 favored — it makes but to inflate his Vanity, 
 but never satisfies his reason. Here (suppos- 
 ing you at Skenectady) you have the sources 
 of sterling knowledge within your reach, fruits 
 of the best exercised reason and treasure of a 
 solid truth. It is needless to paint the scene. 
 The plain fact is that by a little patient at- 
 tention to the objects proposed to you there 
 you may become a good classical scholar. An 
 
 64 
 
eloquent rhetorician you can scarcely fail to 
 be. You will obtain the honors of the college, 
 which is a great thing in public estimation; 
 the approbation of good men which is greater, 
 and a patronage exceeding anything of the 
 kind that your parents and family could have 
 contemplated or thought of. 
 
 "The reverse, my dear son, would form a 
 picture which from its dismal appearance I 
 forbear to draw. Most devoutly I deprecate 
 your ever being presented in such a group 
 of miseries." 
 
 A truce between Mr. Seaman and Payne 
 was finally established and on the eighteenth 
 of July Payne left Albany to take up his work 
 at college. 
 
 Payne was penitent, and Mr. Seaman was 
 appeased; but when he found that he was 
 charged with the expenses incurred by Payne 
 during his delay at Albany the flame again 
 burst forth and in a severe and somewhat 
 sarcastic letter to Dr. Nott, July 29, 1806, 
 he thus outlines his limitations and wishes 
 for the future: — 
 
 "Master John H. Payne left this the begin- 
 ning of June for the seminary at Schenectady, 
 
 65 
 
but he has till lately forgotten the place of his 
 destination. His vanity has led him to make 
 himself conspicuous everywhere but at col- 
 lege. I, however, rec'd a letter from him of 
 the 19th inst., dated Schenectady, so that it 
 seems his paroxism is finished; but I am 
 apprehensive that it will return notwithstand- 
 ing what he says he has suffered while under 
 the operation. I gave him a letter for you 
 which I presume he has delivered. I therein 
 requested you to furnish him with all neces- 
 saries, and to allow him twenty shillings — 
 per month for pocket money. Since he left 
 New York he has squandered away upwards 
 of $90, which I am under no obligation to pay, 
 but if he remains at college for six months I 
 will pay the same, although it is a Tavern 
 debt. When he left this I gave him twenty 
 dollars when ten would have been sufficient 
 to carry him to the place to which he was 
 sent. Not to expose myself to any further 
 vexations on this head, I have proposed a 
 different arrangement to his father Mr. Wm. 
 Payne of Boston, into whose hands I shall 
 place ^250 per annum for the purpose of giv- 
 ing his son John a liberal education. This 
 allowance is to cease the moment he quits 
 
 66 
 
Union College. I have chosen this place, as 
 well from the high opinion I have of the 
 eminent qualifications of its President as 
 from its detached situation, which in the 
 case of this youth is of the highest impor- 
 tance. Nothing but the discipline of a classi- 
 cal education can regulate the almost frantic 
 sallies to which Master Payne's mind is ex- 
 posed from its great activity which has been 
 continually heightened by the same in the 
 hands of John's father. You will hereafter 
 consider him as the medium through which 
 you are to be paid for any expenses you may 
 incur on acc't of his son's education, clothes, 
 Sec, while under your care. He will no doubt 
 write immediately on the subject and give 
 you generally his ideas of the boy. 
 
 *' If, Sir, you can reclaim this youth and 
 by any means whatever supplant a love of 
 pleasure by a love of study you will confer a 
 very high obligation on his friends and render 
 an essential service to his country; for talents 
 like his if properly directed will do much good 
 in arresting the dreadful evils which await us 
 from the encreasing and desolating effects of 
 democracy." 
 
 67 
 
I have said that Payne was penitent. In 
 the crisis with Mr. Seaman he was not guided 
 alone by his own feelings. Both Dr. Nott 
 and Mr. Sedgwick, of Albany, who with his 
 brother had already become fast friends of 
 the youth, gave him their advice, as shown 
 by a letter to his father under date of August 
 2. Both agreed that Mr. Seaman had "acted 
 wrong, from right motives; " and that Payne 
 had been guilty of indiscretions which Mr. 
 Seaman had treated too harshly after every 
 concession from Payne that the nature of the 
 case required. 
 
 "That I am blest with a disposition to 
 retrieve my errors is undeniable," says Payne 
 in the same letter, which was written in 
 the calm that succeeded the storm. "Most 
 sincerely do I regret their effects; and most 
 sincerely does my heart bleed for their com- 
 mission. It bleeds because it has afflicted my 
 dearest friends, — it bleeds because it has 
 led one to whom I was bound in indissoluble 
 ties of gratitude to a hastiness of conduct 
 which will forever cool, if it does not freeze, 
 the warmth of aifection which once subsisted 
 between us." 
 
 68 
 
During his stay at Albany, Payne had met 
 and captivated many of the leading citizens 
 including Robert and Theodore Sedgwick. 
 The facts regarding his quarrel with Mr. Sea- 
 man were known to many of them, and when 
 at the advice of all Payne left for college 
 Mayor Van Rensselaer furnished him with 
 ninety dollars to pay his debts, giving him to 
 understand that it came from Mr. Seaman. 
 Mr. Seaman, who was kept in ignorance of 
 the affair, supposed for sometime after that 
 he was still charged with the debts contracted. 
 
 On July 19 we find Payne in Schenectady 
 with admirable resolutions formed, ready 
 conscientiously to take up his studies on the 
 morrow. On that day he wrote his father as 
 follows : — 
 
 "Instead of being placed in the grammar 
 school, I am to become the companion of Dr. 
 Nott; to reside in the room with him; and 
 to study privately under his particular care 
 and direction until prepared to enter the 
 college. I confess that imagination does not 
 represent the pleasure of my new occupation 
 in the most glowing colors. I cannot look 
 upon them with impassioned eyes; I cannot 
 
 69 
 
taste them with a perfect relish; but they 
 will probably become natural, and habit will 
 render them agreeable. Tomorrow is fixed 
 for my debut. I have resolved, by endeavor- 
 ing to insinuate myself into their good graces, 
 to make the affections of my fellow students 
 and of my tutors my first object. I know how 
 unpleasant will be my onset. I feel it in all its 
 horrors; and I tremble to anticipate." 
 
 Dr. Nott had been opposed to having 
 Payne placed at Union. To undertake the 
 moulding and instruction of so unusual a 
 youth seemed too gigantic a task for even this 
 wonderful man; but when the matter was 
 once decided, nothing that it was in his power 
 to prevent was to block success. 
 
 Having piloted Payne through the first 
 two weeks of his new career, endeavoring 
 always — and with wonderful success — to 
 gain the confidence and win the affection of 
 his charge, Dr. Nott turned his attention 
 toward making peace with Mr. Seaman. 
 
 Payne wrote to his father on August 2, — 
 
 "Dr. Nott, an honor to human nature, has 
 offered, kindly offered to take the business 
 
 70 
 
into his hands; and, if his mediation prove 
 ineffectual he says that my situation shall 
 not suffer from the desertion of Mr. Seaman, 
 if I can be happy in Schenectady. I can be 
 happy there. With Dr. Nott I can be happy 
 anywhere.''^ 
 
 With what success and to what extremes 
 Dr. Nott went to prevent Payne's coming in 
 contact with any other influence may be 
 seen when Payne adds: — 
 
 "I am his companion at college, his ^chum^ 
 as they call it, and even share his bed. These 
 distinctions are most gratifying. I have the 
 rank of a student, but am secluded from the 
 other scholars, under the private and particu- 
 lar care of Dr. Nott." 
 
 No sooner were things running smoothly 
 than it became time for the summer vaca- 
 tion. Mr. Seaman and Payne's father de- 
 sired that Payne should spend the vacation 
 in Boston, but Dr. Nott took a decided 
 stand against such a plan. 
 
 Writing Payne's father on August 2, he 
 says: — 
 
 "Since his arrival, his conduct has been 
 such, and such is the apparent influence I 
 
 71 
 
have over him, that I feel great confidence in 
 being able to rescue him from that ruin to 
 which he is exposed. But so different is the 
 treatment he receives here from what he 
 receives in Albany, New York and probably 
 Boston, that I should not like to run the 
 hazard of his spending even a vacation in 
 any of those places at present." 
 
 Dr. Nott had his way, and it was decided 
 that Payne should be with him all the vaca- 
 tion; and wherever he went Payne should go 
 also. Furthermore, his intervention with Mr. 
 Seaman was rewarded by forgiveness, with 
 promises of future aid and expressions of 
 good will. — 
 
 "To you. Sir," writes Mr. Seaman to Dr. 
 Nott, on August 7, "we all look with anxious 
 solicitude, as the only person who can save 
 this youth from destruction, and by elevat- 
 ing his views to more noble and interesting 
 objects than have yet appeared to engage 
 his attention, make him at once the solace 
 and delight of his friends as well as highly 
 ornamental and useful to society. I have 
 definitely fixed the duration of my patronage 
 
 72 
 
to his stay at Union College. This is my last 
 and only hope, and the moment he quits it 
 I owe it to myself to give him up wholly to 
 his father's care. He now knows what awaits 
 him should he have the folly to abandon his 
 present situation, set himself once more afloat 
 and become the sport of circumstances. After 
 the trying lessons he has lately received, his 
 resolution I trust is firmly fixed. 
 
 "Give my love to John; tell him his sis- 
 ter is well and cordially participates my joy 
 in his returning sense of propriety. I now 
 sincerely forgive his late improper conduct, 
 and if he continues steadfast in his present 
 laudable resolution of pursuing his studies 
 with unwearied diligence my affection for 
 him will soon again be what it once was." 
 
 The summer vacation of fifteen weeks 
 must, as a whole, have passed pleasantly for 
 Payne. For the first ten days, being afflicted 
 with one of the severe spells of illness to which 
 he was often subject, Payne remained at 
 Schenectady. The gloom of the place, en- 
 hanced by the fact that now there were at 
 the College "but two or three black servants 
 and some workmen," as he writes to his 
 
 73 
 
father, seemed sufficient excuse for his spend- 
 ing a few days at Ballstown as soon as he was 
 able to be about. 
 
 Ballstown — Ballston Spa, as we now know 
 it — was at this time at the height of its pop- 
 ularity as a watering place. ^ Fashionable 
 people from many places made it their resort. 
 Payne writes his father on August 12 that 
 there are "now 898 names recorded on the 
 register at the Springs, and it is not easy to 
 procure comfortable accommodations with- 
 out being previously provided for." 
 
 It is not to be wondered at that Payne 
 found Ballstown an attractive place, and 
 that he took occasion several times during 
 the vacation to visit his friends there, either 
 alone or in company with his "chum," Dr. 
 Nott. With Dr. Nott, Payne also spent much 
 time in Albany, and "at their request visited 
 Governor Lewis, the Secretary of State, and 
 the Livingston Manor." The only cloud in the 
 bright sky of the summer seems to have been 
 the disappointment caused by the abandon- 
 ment of a visit which his parents had planned 
 
 ^ The famous Sans Souci Hotel had been completed in 
 1804, and no expense was spared to make Ballston, — what 
 for many years afterward it was, — the largest and most 
 charming resort in the States. 
 
 74 
 
on paying him, and which was given up be- 
 cause of his mother's failing health. 
 
 Gossip was again busy, and reports came 
 to the elder Payne that his son had been 
 rather too prominent in various visits to the 
 Springs. Explanations were demanded and 
 much good advice was given; which, although 
 perhaps not amiss, exhibits more of a tendency 
 toward severity and lack of trust than the 
 evidence shows the case to have warranted. 
 That Payne felt this deeply is shown by his 
 reply to his father on September 23 : — 
 
 "From your remarks as to the influence of 
 my rational and moral reflections you seem 
 disposed to believe that my heart retains 
 those sentiments of despicable baseness which 
 it was once cursed with. I hope that I am 
 now superior to such degrading ideas, and I 
 did hope that you believed so. No one has a 
 deeper sense of the Importance of present 
 pursuits to future happiness than I have, 
 and no one is firmer than I am in a resolution 
 of abiding by those Ideas." 
 
 Before Payne left New York City for col- 
 lege, Mr. Seaman had assumed all his debts. 
 
 75 
 
For some reason he was kept In Ignorance of 
 sums he had borrowed to the amount of 
 nearly ^300. When near the end of the vaca- 
 tion these loans were brought to Mr. Sea- 
 man's attention, more fuel was added to the 
 then nearly extinguished flames of his dis- 
 pleasure caused by the events of the previous 
 spring. There were no heated arguments 
 over this matter, for Payne willingly admitted 
 himself to be In the wrong and insisted on 
 coming to New York before college opened 
 in order to straighten matters out. Neither 
 Mr. Seaman nor his father would listen to 
 such a plan, suspecting that the wish of 
 "righting his concerns" was not the only 
 consideration drawing him back to the charms 
 of New York, and the Idea was given up. 
 
 Vacation over, Payne returned to college 
 on September 24 from Albany, where he had 
 been spending the latter part of the time. 
 No sooner had he taken up the work of the 
 fall term than he was seized with a "violent 
 remitting fever." After a period of over two 
 weeks we find him still confined to his bed — 
 although evidently in high spirits — writing 
 to his friend Robert Sedgwick whom he had 
 recently visited at Albany: — 
 
 76 
 
"The fates seem to have set themselves in 
 battle array against me and my Latin gram- 
 mar. Since the Monday I left you, I have 
 scarcely risen from my bed. Today, for the 
 first time, I venture to show my ^ diminished^ 
 body to the walls of my bedchamber. My 
 bed clothes, unconscious of the greatness 
 which they covered, have very impolitely 
 suffered themselves to get dirty. To punish 
 their presumption others more worthy the 
 dignity have been procured. The interval of 
 exchange is devoted to you. Conscious of the 
 distinction, I hope you will receive it with 
 humility, and properly appreciate the honor 
 which is conferred." 
 
 The period of convalesence after an illness 
 is often seized upon as an opportune time for 
 writing letters. This was so in Payne's case, 
 and he seems to have gone the rounds of his 
 friends and relatives. His sister Eloise ap- 
 pears, however, to have been the favored one, 
 and from a veritable volume written to her 
 on October 9, 1 take the following interesting 
 and valuable selections : — 
 
 "I comply with your request as to our 
 seminary; but I cannot be so particular in 
 
 77 
 
my account now as I may be when I have 
 more paper and less to say. Our largest edi- 
 fice ^ has a large grass plot, ornamented with 
 trees in its front. It faces the street on one 
 side, and a grass plain, being the play yard, 
 on the other. At each side of this plain, and 
 fronting each other, stand two white story 
 buildings,^ with long piazzas appropriated to 
 lodging rooms. The Grammar School is in 
 the large edifice. It has some internal regu- 
 lations which have no connection with the 
 college, but in other respects is subject to 
 its jurisdiction. The grammar scholars are 
 exempt from fines, the common college pun- 
 ishment and liable to flagellation. They are 
 debarred, which the students are not, from 
 the privilege of leaving the yard in recreation 
 hours, without special permission; and when 
 the students retire to their rooms to study, 
 
 * This building was finished in 1804, and was known as 
 the "West College." It was in the Italian style of architec- 
 ture and from the designs of Philip Hooker, an eminent archi- 
 tect of Albany. It was of stone, three stories high, besides a 
 high basement, and was surmounted by a central cupola. 
 This building contained a residence for the President, the 
 chapel, library, and recitation rooms, together with a comfort- 
 able number of dormitories. 
 
 2 These buildings were erected after 1805, and were known 
 as the "Long College." 
 
 78 
 
the grammar scholars study and recite in the 
 schoolroom. They attend prayers, break- 
 fast, and church, with the collegians. 
 
 "There are two literary societies ^ recog- 
 nised and patronised by the authority of col- 
 lege. Their objects are the promotion of 
 virtue, science, and friendship, — their busi- 
 ness, extemporaneous debating and compo- 
 sition. They have each a valuable library. 
 One is the Adelphic, the other the Philo- 
 mathean Society." 
 
 How deep are the moans of the average 
 collegian of today as the sound of the seven 
 o'clock rising bell is borne to his ears! Can 
 we stretch our imagination far enough to 
 picture the scene were he required to shift to 
 the schedule of the early days? 
 
 Payne continues, — "I give you here our 
 course of proceedings; — to each duty the 
 bell warns us to be punctual. — 
 
 5, Rise. 
 
 3^ p 5, Prayers; after which the classes 
 retire with their several instruc- 
 tors to their particular recita- 
 tion rooms. 
 
 * These societies are still in existence. 
 
 79 
 
8, Breakfast. 
 
 Half past nine to eleven, study In rooms. 
 
 11, Recitation. 
 
 12, Recreation. 
 
 I, Dinner — recreation till 2. 
 
 2 to 4, Study in rooms. 
 
 4, Recitation. 
 
 5, Prayers. 
 
 J^ p 5, Tea. Recreation till 7. 
 
 7 to 9, Study In rooms. From 9 to il, 
 
 devoted to anything which is 
 agreeable in the rooms. 
 
 "Not a light must be seen, under a severe 
 penalty, after eleven; and after seven no stu- 
 dent is allowed to be out of his room, under 
 a like restriction. 
 
 "A professor is constantly visiting the 
 rooms to see the laws fulfilled. They are as 
 vigilant as they are severe. The greatest 
 harmony exists among the students, both as 
 regards their studies and as respects each 
 other. On Sunday no intercourse is allowed 
 without, and very little within, the college 
 walls. The students attend church in pro- 
 cession. One professor goes to each place 
 of worship, and any student may follow 
 him." 
 
 Careful calculation showed Payne that his 
 80 
 
expenses for the year would exceed the stipu- 
 lation of Mr. Seaman. Homesick, and "tor- 
 tured by occasional fits of despondency and 
 blue devils," as he expressed it in the letter 
 to his father dated October 14, we can pic- 
 ture this boy, now scarcely more than fifteen 
 years old, laying his plans for the future, with 
 a view to not only making up a probable de- 
 ficiency in his own accounts, but planning 
 with a laudable unselfishness, to extend aid 
 to others. Thus, on the same date as above, 
 he writes to Henry Brevoort: — 
 
 "It has been, and still is, a great object 
 with me to make myself independent, in 
 pecuniary matters, of my family. I have 
 been flattering myself with effecting the end, 
 without considering the means. My father 
 has a family of five children to support. He 
 is in the decline of life, and the labor, the 
 painful labor with which he provides for 
 them will tend to shorten those years which 
 to our family are so inestimable. — Can /, 
 then, who should aid him in his duties, who 
 should lighten his burthen, take the bread 
 from the mouth of my dear parent? Oh, 
 God ! How agonizing the thought — Not to 
 
subject his noble independence of spirit and 
 strict integrity of principle to the necessity 
 of relieving me, I have in view to issue pro- 
 posals (under the veil of profound secrecy) 
 for a work to be entitled, The American 
 Plutarch. I had to render it an useful and 
 amusing compendium of American Biography, 
 having already made some collections, and 
 being still in progress with more. The prob- 
 able profit may be ascertained by previous 
 proposals, and the publication can be at- 
 tended to during our winter vacation. I can 
 make it, I trust, a lucrative as well as an amus- 
 ing compendium. 
 
 "As to Schenectady and Union College, I 
 mean to sit down with as much content as 
 any Dutch Magistrate in the place, and to 
 grow so wise you '11 have to talk with me very 
 soon by the intervention of Magi. I have 
 been reading Franklin's Way to Wealth, and 
 mean to become economical." 
 
 Having definitely decided on his future 
 course, Payne hastened to place the project 
 of The American Plutarch before his father, 
 soliciting his sanction, but simply giving as 
 his reason for desiring its issue that he was 
 
 82 
 
"desirous of providing against exigencies." 
 He says: "You will perhaps regret the return 
 of the cacoethes scribendi, but I assure you 
 this work, without any eye to renown, will 
 be, like Peter Pindar's razors, merely 'made 
 to sell.' I shall keep myself entirely in the 
 back ground, and veil the author's name in 
 profound secrecy. I will promise, however, 
 that my great men shall not interfere with 
 my great object.''^ 
 
 To Payne's illness and confinement we are 
 indebted for a little poem which in the light 
 of after events becomes of the greatest inter- 
 est and importance. Alone in his room, his 
 thoughts turning to his friends and family at 
 home, he followed his natural inclinations 
 and in verse gave utterance to his feelings. — 
 "Eloise's letter caught me in one of my fits 
 of hypo during the height of my illness," 
 writes Payne, in the same letter to his father: 
 "It afforded me much satisfaction, for I was 
 just at that moment reducing the pleasures 
 of Home to doggrell." 
 
 To the world John Howard Payne is best 
 known as the author of "Home, Sweet 
 Home." This song was introduced by Payne 
 
 83 
 
in his opera Clari,^ which had its first presen- 
 tation at Covent Garden Theater, London, 
 May 8, 1823. Such praise was at once ac- 
 corded the song that Goulding & Co., who 
 had obtained the publishing rights, realized 
 a fortune from its sales. The success of the 
 opera and the publication of the song bene- 
 fitted Payne least of all. He had sold the 
 manuscript for a lump sum, and retained no 
 interest in it. Further, the publisher did not 
 even deem it necessary to place his name on 
 the titlepage as the author of the words. 
 
 The fact that Payne was not credited with 
 having written the words, when "Home, 
 Sweet Home" was published, gave rise to 
 the belief on the part of many that the credit 
 belonged to someone else, although the several 
 attempts that have been made to deprive 
 Payne of the authorship, or prove him guilty 
 of plagiarism, have in every case failed. 
 
 There has lately been presented to Union 
 College a poem by Payne, hitherto unpub- 
 lished, found among the papers of Harmanus 
 Bleeker, of Albany. As Bleeker was a friend 
 
 ^ Readers of the Dickens-Beadnell letters will remember 
 that Dickens played the part of Rolamo, father to Clari, and 
 that the playbill, the earliest known in which Dickens' name 
 appears, is reproduced in that volume. 
 
 84 
 
and patron of Payne during his college course, 
 it seems likely that this poem is the very one 
 on which he was at work when in his "fit of 
 hypo" his sister's letter came to cheer him. 
 
 In the light of the question of the author- 
 ship, and as to its value in the history of the 
 writing, how interesting then is this poem, 
 given below, written while Payne was a 
 student at Union College, the very genesis of 
 the idea of "Home, Sweet Home!" 
 
 Home — 
 
 Where burns the lov'd hearth brightest 
 
 Cheering the social breast? 
 
 Where beats the fond heart highest, 
 
 Its humble hopes possess'd? 
 
 Where is the smile of sadness, 
 
 Of meek-eyed Patience born, 
 
 Worth more than those of gladness 
 
 Which Mirth's bright cheek adorn? 
 
 Pleasure is mark'd by fleetness, 
 
 To those who ever roam: 
 
 While grief itself has sweetness 
 
 At Home ! dear Home 1 
 
 There blend the ties that strengthen 
 Our hearts in hours of grief. 
 The silver links that lengthen 
 Joy's visits when most brief: 
 
 85 
 
There eyes in all their splendors 
 
 Are vocal to the heart, 
 
 And glances gay or tender 
 
 Fresh eloquence impart: 
 
 Then dost thou sigh for pleasure? 
 
 O ! do not widely roam, 
 
 But seek that hidden treasure 
 
 At Home! dear Home! 
 
 Does pure religion charm thee 
 
 Far more than ought below? 
 
 Wouldst thou that she would arm thee 
 
 Against the hour of woe? 
 
 Think not she dwelleth only 
 
 In temples built for prayer; 
 
 For Home itself is lonely 
 
 Unless her smiles be there; 
 
 The devotee may falter. 
 
 The bigot blindly roam; 
 
 If worshipless her altar 
 
 At Home! dear Home! 
 
 Love over it presideth 
 With meek and watchful awe, 
 Its daily service guideth, 
 And shews its perfect law. 
 If there thy faith shall fail thee. 
 If there no shrine be found, 
 What can thy prayers avail thee 
 With kneeling crowds around? 
 86 
 
Go! leave thy gift unoffered, 
 Beneath religion's dome, 
 And be the first fruits proffer'd 
 At Home! dear Home! 
 
 With Payne's convalescence, things began 
 to assume a more pleasing appearance, and 
 the "melancholy tints of Hie, Haec, Hoc, to 
 brighten," as he then expressed himself in a 
 letter to William Sampson. After the vaca- 
 tion season filled with so much bustle and 
 pleasure the restraints of college life did not, 
 however, sit as easily as they might. The 
 good resolutions formed during his sickness 
 were nevertheless not to be broken, and he 
 continues philosophically: — 
 
 "To a novice, the languages ' have few 
 charms; but we must sow to reap, and the 
 expectation of the harvest is a stimulant to 
 the labors of the field, which sweetens their 
 toil and softens their fatigues." 
 
 Not the least among the attractions at 
 Ballstown during the summer had been the 
 charms of a certain Miss Fairlie. "Absence 
 and change of air" were, however, infallible 
 remedies for love, and to the long list of reso- 
 lutions, reluctantly was added another in a 
 letter to Henry Brevoort: — 
 
 87 
 
"Miss Fairlle often names me. Now could 
 I believe you I would bless the stars which 
 have decreed such honor to my sad, silly 
 name. I was determined to think no more 
 of this * lovely sylph,' but you have 'touched 
 the string on which hung all my sorrows.' I 
 have made a solemn resolution, however, to 
 forsake — 
 
 * Cupid, flames and flowers 
 Hearts 
 Darts 
 And amaranthine bowers : ' 
 
 "My Dulclnea was fascinating enough to 
 have caught any Quixotean Adventurer, — 
 but I was so consummately ridiculous that if 
 all the beauties in all the Paradises of all the 
 world were to assail me I never, never would 
 enter the lists again." 
 
 I have some doubts as to the faithfulness 
 with which this last resolution was kept, for 
 Payne freely admitted that his curse was 
 "the love of fair faces," and we find him 
 about this time endeavoring to appease, with 
 some very mediocre verses, "a beautiful 
 young lady who found fault with the author 
 because he looked at her." ^ 
 
 * Through the courtesy of Mr. Thatcher T. P. Luquer the 
 writer has in his collection a copy of this poem. 
 
 88 
 
More for amusement than in hope of pecu- 
 niary reward Payne now gathered materials 
 for a "correct life of Hodgkinson," which on 
 November 5, 1806, he offered to the editor 
 of the Polyanthos on the following terms : — 
 
 "If my puerile exertions in aid of your 
 miscellany can avail you anything, you shall 
 have them for their sterling worth — nothing.''^ 
 
 The contemplated Plutarch^ even before 
 the prospectus was issued, was relinquished 
 as "stale, flat and unprofitable." Immedi- 
 ately another plan was thought of, and as 
 quickly given up. On November 18 he thus 
 writes to his father: "It was to undertake 
 in concert with some printer or bookseller in 
 Albany a monthly miscellany, with engrav- 
 ings, on the plan of the Boston Polyanthos. 
 The enterprise would not be unsafe, and the 
 entertainment derived from its executions 
 would amply remunerate the expense of 
 labour and time, which altogether would be 
 very trifling. The assistance of distinguished 
 literary characters throughout the United 
 States would be solicited and expected." 
 
 In order to obtain a set of Shakespeare and 
 other books which he wanted Payne turned 
 book-agent, and for Munroe & Francis, of 
 
 89 
 
Boston, endeavored with some success to 
 secure subscribers to their second edition of 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 It was now approaching December, and 
 still no feasible plan had been brought forth 
 whereby Payne could discharge his debts or 
 aid his father. " Nil desperandum and labor 
 omnia vincit improbus, et duris urgens in rebus 
 egestas are my mottoes," he writes to his father. 
 Suddenly it occurred to Payne that here was 
 an opening for such a literary paper as he 
 had intended issuing in New York before the 
 scheme had given place to the Thespian Mir- 
 ror, and in December there appeared the fol- 
 lowing proposal^ for a weekly literary paper 
 to be known by the name that Payne had in- 
 tended using in his New York venture, The 
 Pastime. — 
 
 "On suitable encouragement, it is pro- 
 posed to issue a Weekly Paper in this City, 
 to be called — 
 
 The Pastime 
 
 Such persons as are disposed to promote a 
 project of this nature are requested to affix 
 
 ^ An original printed proposal is in the library of Union 
 College. 
 
 90 
 
their names to this subscription. The editor 
 will not implicate himself in promises which 
 he may not be able to perform; but he pledges 
 himself that no exertions shall be wanting on 
 his part to render The Pastime a spirited 
 auxiliary to the cause of polite literature. 
 
 It will be commenced with the next session 
 of Union College. 
 
 Schenectady, December, 1806. 
 
 Conditions : 
 
 The work will be afforded at One Dollar 
 per session, or quarter, payable in advance. 
 
 It will be printed in a neat octavo form. 
 Eight pages to be used weekly. 
 
 The matter, original or selected, will be 
 exclusively literary." 
 
 Payne spent the Christmas vacation with 
 his parents in Boston. His stay was pro- 
 tracted some days beyond the period fixed, 
 by another sickness, and not until the tenth 
 of February did he start on his return to 
 college. He was indebted to Mr. Seaman 
 for the "indulgence of tasting the pleasures 
 of home, of all pleasures the most delightful," 
 
 91 
 
and on February 9 before he returned to 
 college he feelingly wrote to express his ap- 
 preciation, adding with sentiments of esteem 
 and gratitude, that "no object was dearer to 
 his heart than that of regaining the confidence 
 which his own imprudences had suspended, 
 than that of meriting the kindness which he 
 could not claim." 
 
 Payne had been back at college but a short 
 time when he was again assailed by a severe 
 attack of the "blues." Everything seemed 
 at "sixes and sevens." The frailty of his 
 constitution rendered Incessant attention to 
 study impossible, and his progress was not 
 to the liking of Mr. Seaman. Schenectady, 
 as he said in a letter to Mr. Seaman, seemed 
 "one of the most unlovely places in the world," 
 and in adopting the opinion of "unprejudiced 
 foreigners" he added his condemnation of 
 the "policy which led to the erection^ of a 
 college in one of the most unpleasant swamps 
 in the United States." The question of 
 spending money, always a bone of contention 
 between Payne and his guardian, again came 
 
 ^ Union College was at this time situated at the corner of 
 Union and College Streets. The present site on the hill was 
 not obtained until 1812. 
 
 92 
 
to the front and in reply to Mr. Seaman's 
 criticisms Payne wrote on February 20, 1807: 
 
 "I think you mistaken when you consider 
 $300 the largest allowance made at college. 
 Calculating the expenses of education alone, 
 including some contingencies belonging to, 
 though not generally estimated in, those ex- 
 penses, one hundred and fifty dollars will 
 barely suffice to cover them. Clothing is 
 very expensive. Traveling, and other ap- 
 pendages are equally so; and every student 
 has spending money. 
 
 "The furniture of our rooms, which are 
 large and elegant, is costly. I have a bed- 
 stead and matrass. I find the matrass very 
 unpleasant, as I have been used to a feather 
 bed. I have attempted to dispose of it, but 
 cannot; and a feather bed is an article of 
 heavy expense." 
 
 The printers were importunate in their 
 demands for the payment of their "extrava- 
 gant bill of $32.50" for the fourteenth num- 
 ber of the Mirror. This bill Mr. Seaman had 
 promised to pay on Payne's giving up the 
 project; but he had evidently not done so, 
 
 93 
 
and in distress Payne places the matter be- 
 fore him. — 
 
 "I have referred the printers to you. If 
 you think me still unworthy of such a favor, 
 I must work till I can pay the bill." 
 
 We have but to add, to complete the dis- 
 mal picture, that at this time Payne's father 
 became financially embarrassed, and reports 
 from Boston showed that his mother whose 
 health had been fast failing was now in an 
 alarming condition. With justification, Payne 
 thus wrote to Mr. Seaman : — 
 
 "You see with what complicated misery I 
 am surrounded. Every moment in expecta- 
 tion of losing the dearest, the best of mothers. 
 Every instant tortured with pecuniary de- 
 mands. Can you, Sir, — can you expect that 
 attention to study which, otherwise situated, 
 would be required from me?" 
 
 On February 21 from out this chaos of 
 mind and body issued the first number^ of 
 
 * The first number of The Pastime contains the following 
 editorial note: — 
 
 "The publication of The Pastime has been delayed for a 
 few days by the illness of one of the editors. It is now 
 brought forward with some hurry of preparation, and the 
 first number rather prematurely submitted to the public. 
 Readers will therefore judge candidly of a specimen which 
 
 94 
 
The Pastime. While the impression is given 
 that The Pastime was issued by a board of 
 editors it was probably the work of Payne 
 alone. As in the case of the Thespian Mirror, 
 contributions were solicited and inserted. 
 Poetry bore an important part and it is likely 
 
 the Editors themselves have not had time to examine; and 
 critics will have the lenity not to make game of those who have 
 done their best to provide them with an agreeable pastime. 
 
 "It was not without hesitancy that the project of this 
 paper was adopted. The extreme uncertainty of public ar- 
 rangement is a barrier to literary exertions, which few have 
 the resolution to encounter, and still fewer the perseverance 
 to surmount. There are difficulties and dangers in the way 
 of every literary adventurer which experience only can fore- 
 see, and fortitude only can withstand. The caprice of readers 
 who do not know their own taste, and the vanity of writers 
 who will not know their own defects, must be humoured, and 
 must be borne. An editor is like a farmer's drudge horse; 
 anybody may use, everybody may abuse, but no one is com- 
 pelled to treat him kindly. 
 
 "Such considerations staggered our resolution, but others 
 pressed us forward to persevere. We sat upon the shore and 
 beheld the sea on which we were about to embark, covered 
 with wrecks. But the clouds broke as we gazed upon the dis- 
 tant horizon. We knew that the waters had been passed, and 
 that they might be passed again. The pleasure of literature 
 stole upon our view, and we smiled upon its difficulties. 
 
 "Thus determined, our first number is abruptly submitted 
 to the public. With the trembling hand, the beating heart, 
 and the moisten'd eye of parent, we give this infant to be fos- 
 tered by their care, to be supported by their munificence. 
 Our little work is left with them; and when it shall become 
 unworthy of patronage, it is their duty to consign it to the 
 shades of oblivion." 
 
 95 
 
that many of the poems were written by 
 Payne. Biographies were inserted, as it was 
 stated editorially, "when the pressure of 
 study, or dearth of communications" com- 
 pelled the substitution of selected articles in 
 place of original essays, and in such cases it 
 was the object of the "editors" to collect 
 such pieces as from their scarcity might bear 
 "the stamp of novelty, and from their nature, 
 the charms of interest." 
 
 This same week brought a change in the 
 method of Payne's instruction. At his own 
 request, and under the sanction of Dr. Nott, 
 he was placed in the care of Professor Ben- 
 jamin Allen, whom in a letter to his father 
 he called "the most learned man in college." 
 He was to be privately prepared to enter the 
 college proper at the next Commencement. 
 Payne always preferred private instruction 
 and the change was extremely agreeable to 
 him. While the cost was greater (twelve 
 dollars per quarter as against six, the regular 
 college tuition), it was felt by all that the 
 gain would be incomparably greater. "I wish 
 to understand what I learn," writes Payne to 
 Mr. Seaman. "I have been hurried forward 
 in the Latin; I have travelled with so much 
 
 96 
 
celerity that I know nothing of the country 
 through which I have passed! I have been 
 forced into a dark forest, and if I were left 
 alone it would be as impracticable to find my 
 way out of it as to penetrate the mysteries of 
 Fate, and unveil the face of futurity." 
 
 Under the new arrangement matters seemed 
 to progress more smoothly. The spring va- 
 cation broke the monotony, and gave place 
 to a very pleasant trip. Payne travelled 
 through New Jersey, — visiting Newark, 
 Trenton and Princeton, — and went to Phil- 
 adelphia, where he remained some time. 
 
 At Newark Payne met one of his "old 
 flames." "Sweet soul: how pretty she is," 
 he exclaims in a letter to James Lewis, dated 
 April 25, 1807. "We exchanged stages with 
 her at Newark, and I made great exertions 
 to get the seat which she occupied, and often 
 knocked my head against the coach's side, 
 supposing it possible at least that her head 
 might have knocked against the same place." 
 Though Payne describes the roads as not un- 
 like "the devil's turnpike to the infernal 
 regions," the country appeared to him a 
 "paradise." He was greatly impressed with 
 the historical setting of the places through 
 
 97 
 
which he passed. "Princeton," he writes in 
 his letter to Lewis, "is a most delightful 
 place; but the college edifice itself, built of 
 huge stone, with the smallest kind of win- 
 dows, — gives the idea of a jail standing in 
 Elysium." 
 
 Before his return to college Payne stopped 
 a few days with his friends in New York. 
 During his visit he found time to write a long 
 letter to his mother. While many written to 
 his father are extant, I can find no trace of 
 any other written to his mother. This is the 
 more remarkable as Payne always spoke of 
 her in the most affectionate terms, and had 
 evidently a great love for her. So interest- 
 ing is this letter, and such a light does it 
 throw on the thoughts and character of 
 Payne that I give it here in its entirety. — 
 
 "I have often regretted having so long 
 neglected to give you a stronger testimony 
 of anxiety for your decayed health, than the 
 mere inquiry of a family letter. The time 
 for acknowledging the error, and the attempt 
 to atone for it, has been constantly put off 
 for an hour of more leisure, which has never 
 yet arrived, and perhaps never may. In a 
 
 98 
 
moment of hurry, therefore, I have resolved 
 to do the thing at once, and tho' I cannot 
 say half that I could wish, I am unwilling to 
 encourage the spirit of procrastination. 
 
 "It has long been my desire to acquaint 
 you with the sentiments and principles which 
 actuate my conduct. The more so, as I know 
 you have had reasons, and cogent ones too, 
 to fear much for me; and that you had 
 grounds to believe me deficient in moral 
 sense, and in a conviction of accountability 
 to my Maker. I wish such anxieties to be re- 
 moved, for tho' I am not versed in the in- 
 tricacies of sacred lore, I adore my God, and 
 profoundly venerate the Christian Religion. 
 I seek to avoid theological discussions and 
 all the perplexities of abstruse speculation. 
 My intent is to make myself perfectly familiar 
 with the Scriptures; and my ruling principle 
 to love, honor, fear and obey the Deity, to 
 avoid evil as much as I can, and to do all the 
 good which may be in my power. The 
 Christian Religion is sweet and consoling; 
 and perhaps not the least convincing proof 
 of its divine origin springs from the inward 
 consciousness of having done our duty which 
 is produced by a compliance with its mandates. 
 
 99 
 
"It is a darling object with me to be in a 
 situation to support my father's family and 
 to free him from the burthen of its concerns. 
 How soon this may be possible no human 
 eye can foresee. The time is probably dis- 
 tant. I shall continue to apply ardently to 
 my studies; but should active exertions for 
 my family become necessary, I shall lay them 
 by as a sacrifice owing to my relations, and 
 which duty requires that I should make. 
 
 "In the regulation of expenses perhaps I 
 have everything to learn. Until recently I 
 have been insensible to the value of money, 
 and the necessity of economising. I find that 
 it becomes me to relinquish many gratifica- 
 tions in order to preserve that competence 
 with its attendant equanimity of temper, 
 which I have so often and so unfortunately 
 lost. I have long been conscious of the benefit 
 of economy, but I have not sought the means 
 by which it is acquired, while admiring its 
 happy influence and effect. I have not con- 
 sidered how little and incidental expenses 
 swell imperceptibly into a mountain of debt, 
 enough to embarrass and perplex the mind 
 forever — 
 
 "But, while I am imparting these resolu- 
 
 lOO 
 
tions and describing these impressions, I am 
 still aware how necessary it is to guard my 
 own feelings, and of the incredible effect 
 which trifling occurrences have upon the 
 most important resolutions. These are the 
 prominent features of a system, the minuter 
 lines of which are now merely sketched, and 
 capable of change or total erasure, should 
 they be found to require it. I hope no part 
 of the picture will prove defective or de- 
 formed; and if so, that the impression may be 
 indelible on *the tablet of my memory' — • 
 that I may wear it in my ^ heart of hearts.'' 
 
 "I have much to fear from the seductive 
 and overwhelming influence of passion, and 
 I have an aptitude and quickness of resent- 
 ment to subdue before I can hope to be per- 
 manently happy. That passionate temper 
 and promptness to anger and resentment 
 have lost me many a friend and cost me many 
 a pang. 
 
 "These suggestions, my dear Mother, come 
 warm from the heart. I make them because 
 I think they are due to that forbearance 
 which you have shown to my weaknesses and 
 to that uniform exertion which you have made 
 to impress me with useful sentiments. They 
 
 lOI 
 
are conveyed in a less finished and perspicu- 
 ous manner than I could wish, for I am in a 
 room which is all confusion. I reproach my- 
 self for not giving more attention to your 
 instructions and advice, and for repeated 
 instances of impatience under restraint, and 
 absolute disobedience. But I trust that you 
 will forgive them. You have held up my 
 brother William as a perfect model for my 
 imitation. I will imitate him. And while I 
 endeavor to consummate my happiness by 
 rectitude of conduct and principle, — by a 
 reverence for my Creator, — by good will 
 towards mankind, — believe me, my dear 
 Mother, that I shall never cease to attribute 
 all that is good in me to the early care and 
 admonitions of my Father and yourself." 
 
 The commencement of the term finds 
 Payne back at college, and hard at work. 
 On June 4, 1807, in a letter to his father he 
 tells of his activities : — 
 
 *'My studies become the more agreeable 
 the further I progress. The elementary parts 
 of any science are not a little dispiriting. 
 The dead languages in particular require a 
 foundation so very stable that it demands no 
 
 102 
 
ordinary resolution to conquer the difficulties 
 to be met with in such a manner as to make 
 any rapid movements through the more de- 
 lightful range — especially so, to those who 
 have had a premature foretaste of the sweets 
 of literature. With me whose feelings are 
 mutable as the 'winds of Heaven,' — whose 
 resolutions, formed at one moment, vanish at 
 another, nothing is certain; but I should say, 
 with my present impressions, that nothing 
 could give me greater pleasure than to realise 
 the most ardent wishes and hopes of my 
 friends, and to become a thorough scholar. I 
 know that those wishes and hopes are so 
 flatteringly exalted that it will be an eternal 
 disadvantage to me. I have been destined 
 to be led by, rather than to lead, public 
 expectation; and it remains for me to keep 
 up with it as well as I can. 
 
 "I read about one hundred and twenty 
 lines a day in Virgil, and am now one hundred 
 and fifty lines forward in the 2d ^neid. 
 The President is of the opinion that I had 
 better enter the last sessions of the Sopho- 
 more year, which will keep me two years ^ 
 in college, after I am admitted. 
 
 ^ This would make Payne of the Class of 1810. 
 103 
 
"I have been reading for the first time 
 (and I have not yet completed it), Mason on 
 Self Knowledge. I shall never forget the 
 work, or the author. A fund of useful and 
 indispensable instruction, — it should be en- 
 graven on every one's heart and indelibly 
 impressed. 
 
 "I have a strong desire to learn the Greek; 
 and I shall enter upon it with much alacrity, 
 as soon as a new grammar ^ now publishing 
 under the auspices of this college, is com- 
 pleated. All our greek grammars now are in 
 Latin; 2 and the intrinsick difficulties of the 
 language are perplexed by the necessity of 
 translating the rules, before we can acquire 
 
 ' Payne evidently refers to a translation of James Moor's 
 Greek Grammar, edited by Samuel Blatchford and published 
 in New York in 1807. On the first page after the title appears 
 the following: — 
 
 Recommendation. 
 
 "At a meeting of the Board of Trustees of Union College, 
 held at the College Hall on the twenty-ninth of July, 1807. 
 
 "Resolved, that Moor's Greek Grammar as translated 
 by the Reverend Samuel Blatchford, of Lansingburgh, be 
 adopted by this Board, and that the professors be directed 
 to introduce the same into their respective classes." 
 
 ' Payne is in error on this point. 
 
 A "Grammar of the Greek Language" known as "The 
 Gloucester School Greek Grammar" was published in Boston 
 in 1800, from the third London Edition. A second edition was 
 issued in Boston in October, 1805. 
 
 104 
 
their meaning. Though this impresses them 
 on the memory it is so dispiritingly burthen- 
 some that we become exhausted with con- 
 struing the grammar, ere we ascertain its 
 application." 
 
 On the eighteenth of June Payne suffered 
 the severe and irreparable loss of his mother.^ 
 
 ^ The Pastime for July ii contains the following: 
 
 OBITUARY 
 
 "DIED at Boston, on Thursday, the i8th of June, 
 after a long and afflictive illness, Mrs. SARAH PAYNE, 
 AEt, 49, consort of Mr. William Payne. 
 
 "Mortality, when contemplated at a distance, 
 affects us; we view the unknown tomb not without 
 emotion, and feel involuntary sadness when inscribing 
 the record even of a stranger's death. Nature teaches 
 us to sympathise with others: we catch the mourners' 
 anguish, and mingle kindred tears with the child of woe. 
 It is, however, only when the fatal archer invades the 
 domestic circle, and points his envenomed arrows at the 
 bosoms of our dearest friends, that the heart feels the 
 extent of anguish, and tastes the bitterness of funereal 
 sorrows. 
 
 "The alarm which death occasions — the deep- 
 toned agony it excites in the bosom of children when a 
 parent is the victim, overcomes them: and they cling 
 for a season in speechless silence to the urn which con- 
 tains her ashes. But departed worth leaves even the 
 mourning friends a solace. There is a soothing, melan- 
 
 105 
 
"I will not attempt to describe my feelings 
 on this melancholy event," he writes to 
 James Lewis a few days later. "Let the 
 tears that bedew the paper on which I write 
 
 choly pleasure, in recollecting the virtues of those who 
 are now no more. 
 
 "Our attempt to give the character of the deceased, 
 might be deemed ostentatious. But surely, if the 
 sweetest temper, the most diffusive benevolence, the 
 tenderest sympathy — if a life spent in the exercise of 
 those mild and endearing virtues which adorn the 
 female character, claim the fond recollection of sur- 
 vivors, it were criminal, as it would be unnatural, to 
 withhold the tribute tear. The stranger witnessed her 
 urbanity; the afflicted were solaced by her sympathy; 
 but her family alone, knew the extent of that meek, and 
 unassuming goodness, which concealed from the world, 
 displayed itself amidst the cares, the duties, the joys, 
 and sorrows of domestic life. These humble duties — 
 the education of a family, the instruction of servants, 
 acts of kindness to dependants — these lowly virtues, 
 tho' now overlooked and disregarded, will, when the 
 warrior's triumph shall be forgotten, be exalted and 
 honoured by the SAVIOUR OF THE WORLD. 
 
 "But merit shields not from death. She has paid 
 the debt of nature. To her family and friends she has 
 left the purest consolation in their sorrows, and a bright 
 example for their imitation. Amidst the decays of a 
 dying body, were seen the distinctive traits of a celestial 
 mind. She appeared occupied, indeed, but not dis- 
 turbed; contemplative, but not alarmed; resolute, but 
 tranquil; and with a steady eye she looked upon 
 
 1 06 
 
speak for me. To me It is attended with 
 every aggravation. It is so long since I saw 
 her — what must my poor, dying parent have 
 thought of my neglect? The reflection is too 
 painful — it wounded my very soul ! Here 
 I am surrounded by those (and happy indeed 
 they are) who never having known affliction, 
 know not how to pity or console it. 
 
 "I do not feel in a situation to write, or to 
 do any thing else. I have suspended my 
 Pastime one week, on account of this melan- 
 choly dispensation. Our vacation takes place 
 in four weeks or less, when I shall return to 
 Boston. Alas! how can I endure to revisit 
 the mansion where I was wont to meet my 
 dear mother, — to see all gloom, and not to 
 find her, the affectionate sustainer of my 
 infancy, who has so often welcomed me home 
 with tears of tenderness and joy." 
 
 At the close of the college year, on July 29, 
 Payne hastened to get his affairs in order, 
 
 death, encroaching in the languid form of disease, 
 upon her mortal frame, which she seemed, by an an- 
 ticipated act, already to have committed to the grave. 
 Religion now occupied her thoughts, and took posses- 
 sion of her mind. May her children who stood listen- 
 ing around her bed of death, profit by her counsel, and 
 imitate her example." 
 
 107 
 
and after bringing out the Commencement 
 number ^ of The Pastime on August i, left 
 for home. 
 
 Although the fall term of college began in 
 September Payne did not return to Union 
 until the latter part of October. The death 
 of his mother still weighed heavily upon him. 
 "Society," he writes to Miss Gleason, "has 
 tended to blunt the keenness of my affliction, 
 though death itself can only obliterate it 
 altogether." 
 
 He seems to have entered upon his studies 
 with a quiet determination to "make good." 
 For amusement he devoted himself to his 
 paper, which became literally his Pastime. 
 The realization, however, of his responsibili- 
 ties in financial matters, in study, and in de- 
 
 * This issue contains the following interesting description 
 of the Ball: — 
 
 "In the evening, a brilliant and fashionable assembly of 
 ladies, attended the Commencement Ball at Rodger's. The 
 utmost order and innocent joy pervaded the exercises of the 
 day and evening. But one thing damped the enjoyments of 
 the ball room; the dustiness of the floor, which when danced 
 on, sent forth a mist thro' which it was hardly possible to 
 distinguish the myriads of lovely faces that were present. 
 Out of respect to the sufferings of the ladies, and the vexa- 
 tion of the gentlemen, we hope Mr. Rodgers will exile all the 
 dust from the ball room before the next anniversary of 
 Commencement." 
 
 1 08 
 
portment subjected him to numerous attacks 
 of the "blues." On January 9 he writes to 
 James Lewis : — 
 
 "My feelings are soured by crosses and 
 rendered sensitive by constant misconstruc- 
 tion and much misfortune and much ill 
 treatment. Because in one hour my heart 
 swells high with hope, I cannot say that the 
 next will not find me plunged into ineffable 
 despair." 
 
 There is something truly pathetic in the 
 struggle of this youth, trying to rid himself 
 of his "womanish whim whams," sometimes 
 slipping, but always conscientiously striving 
 to do as his friends wished, plodding on in 
 the hope "that the Sun would soon break 
 forth and dissipate the clouds that lowered 
 on his brow." 
 
 It is remarkable that neither in The Pas- 
 time nor in his college letters, do we find any 
 reference to indicate the relation existing be- 
 tween John Howard Payne and the student 
 body. Under the instructions of a tutor, 
 and under the "particular care" of the Presi- 
 dent, heralded abroad for his literary ac- 
 complishments and his precocious abilities, 
 every act and word watched, his position 
 
 109 
 
was peculiar, and not at all conducive to the 
 forming of strong friendships with his fellow 
 students. This would have required an effort 
 on his part which from his nature I doubt if 
 he would have made. We know that on his 
 arrival at college he was at once elected to 
 the Adelphic Society, and that the honor thus 
 conferred was deeply appreciated by him. He 
 must have been a great addition to this 
 literary Society. When in 1808 the Society 
 gave its exhibition at the College, he con- 
 tributed much to the success of the even- 
 ing. The exercises included a play entitled 
 Pulaski, written by Henry Warner, one of 
 the students. The plot was founded on the 
 story of the celebrated general of that name, 
 and the part of the only female character, 
 Lodoiska, was acted by Payne. His beauti- 
 ful face and sweet voice admirably suited the 
 assumed role, and his natural aptitude for 
 acting must have insured a really finished per- 
 formance. Payne was appointed to deliver 
 the Epilogue, and in the character he had sus- 
 tained for the evening, delivered the following,^ 
 which he had composed for the occasion: — 
 
 ^ I have taken this Epilogue from an original manuscript 
 found among the papers of Harmanus Bleeker, and now in the 
 
 1 10 
 
Stay gentlefolks, one moment longer stay — 
 I come to ask you how you like our play? 
 For our poor author, in a wretched plight 
 Behind the scene stands trembling with 
 
 affright. 
 And sadly troubled for its fate, sends me 
 To beg your favor for his tragedy. 
 
 But soft a while — let me a moment pause — 
 I '11 plead my own, before I plead his cause — 
 
 Tell me, ye beaux, are all your hearts still free 
 Or are ye dying for the love of me? 
 Have ye not hung enraptur'd on my charms ? 
 Have ye not long'd to clasp me in your arms? 
 
 Ladies! do ye no indignation feel 
 That Lodoiska should your lovers steal? 
 No matter. Ladies! set your hearts at rest 
 You shall retain your beaux and make them 
 
 blest — 
 For lest a late discov'ry damp their joy 
 In time I tell them that their fair 's a boy. 
 
 ^^ A boy in petticoats !^^ Nay do not stare 
 For girls in breeches are not half so rare! 
 
 library of Union College. It will be noted that these verses 
 are widely at variance with those of the Epilogue as published 
 by Payne in his "Lispings of the Muse," London, 1815. 
 The underscorings and lines for omission in the Bleeker 
 manuscript give me reason to believe that it was the original 
 of the Epilogue as spoken, and that it was later revised. 
 
 Ill 
 
What characters do not our belles assume? 
 Of men, I mean — none, none I dare presume. 
 
 Says that young lady In the gun-boat bonnet — 
 Or seems to say, — We ape the men — fie on it — 
 
 Lord, ma'am — I ask your pardon — but 
 
 if you 
 Deny the fact, I '11 try to prove it true. 
 Are ye not soldiers ? — don't ye fight with eyes 
 And carry many a strong heart by surprise — 
 Who can resist th' artillery of charms — 
 The bravest heroes yield to woman's arms? 
 Are ye not merchants too ? — and love 's a 
 
 trade 
 On which embargoes never can be laid. 
 Do not our fair ones love by calculation? 
 Do they not marry upon speculation? 
 And, to the highest bidder sell their charms 
 Purchasing husbands as we 'd purchase farms? 
 Are ye not tinkers for ye mend our hearts 
 In short, the mimics of all manly arts — 
 But on this subject I might prate till day — 
 So I '11 e'en talk of what we call our play. 
 
 Our play! the criticks sneeringly exclaim — 
 *'Our farce were surely a more proper name!" 
 Nay, criticks, do not snarl — we claim from 
 
 you 
 Not only candor but indulgence too — 
 And if that kind indulgence you refuse — 
 To you, ye fair, our trembling author sues — 
 
 112 
 
To you, ye fair, beneath whose guardian eyes 
 The humblest bud of genius never dies — 
 Deck with your lovely smile our author's 
 
 name — 
 "The smiles of Beauty ^ are the wreaths of 
 fame!'' 
 
 Throughout the spring and summer of 1808 
 Payne's struggles went on in their usual 
 course, each month bringing him nearer the 
 crisis that he now saw was inevitable. 
 
 At the commencement of the fall term this 
 crisis was reached. Payne's relations with 
 Mr. Seaman were strained to such a point 
 that a break ^ seemed to the high strung boy 
 the only means through which he might re- 
 tain his self respect. — 
 
 "I perceive that your resentment of the 
 affair of 1806 is strong as ever. I have said 
 and done enough to satisfy a reasonable mind 
 of my regret for this error, — and I shall say 
 
 * Letter to Mr. Seaman, — no date. Concerning this 
 letter Payne writes: — 
 
 "I am not certain whether the following letter was ever 
 sent; but it is a perfect transcript of my feelings and inten- 
 tions at the time, and is therefore preserved." The letter, 
 or something like it, must have been sent, for a little later 
 we read in a letter from Payne to his father that "Mr. Sea- 
 man appears rather pleased with the idea of separation." 
 
 113 
 
and do no more. I am conscious but of one 
 further cause of hatred. With these excep- 
 tions, I can justify every thing in my conduct 
 towards you. But my regret even for these 
 is greatly weakened by your continued and 
 uncharitable austerity. 
 
 "After so many fruitless attempts, I de- 
 spair of a reconciliation. God knows how 
 much I wish it! What can be more humili- 
 ating, what more disgraceful, than to re- 
 ceive favors from one whom you cannot call 
 your friend. 
 
 "In the letter now before me, you speak 
 in the harshest language of my want of econ- 
 omy. I am not conscious of such excessive 
 prodigality as you charge me with. But if 
 I were you have not suffered from my ex- 
 travagance. When you gave up your guar- 
 dianship, since by your means I have been 
 induced to enter college, you voluntarily 
 offered me an annuity of three hundred dol- 
 lars, to cease whenever I should graduate, 
 and even the term of my stay was limited 
 to a period so much shorter than custom- 
 ary, that the President was persuaded of 
 there being some mistake in your letter upon 
 the subject. But I do not murmur at the 
 
 114 
 
arrangement. I shall graduate in two years 
 from August or not at all. I resign the de- 
 lightful expectation which you excited in the 
 infancy of our connection, the expectation 
 of travelling in Europe after leaving college, 
 without a sigh. 
 
 "As you take no interest in my proceed- 
 ings, I know not why you should be offended 
 with others for doing so. You send ^127 for 
 me, and ^expect me to trouble you for no more 
 money until February, 1809.' When have 
 I troubled you for money, — when have I 
 expressed a wish to receive more from you 
 than the stipulated sum, since first that sum 
 was stipulated.? No, Sir, I will not trouble 
 you for money. If by any accident my wants 
 should exceed my means, you shall not hear 
 of it. If you were still what you once were I 
 might have accounted for the disposition of 
 the ''large sum of money ^ which I raised in 
 Albany last winter. But as you feel yourself 
 not enough my friend to answer respectful 
 letters, I know not why you should expect 
 to have that 'large sum' accounted for by me. 
 What I have received from you, as you your- 
 self indicated, I shall consider as a loan. 
 When I am able you shall be repaid, and 
 
 IIS 
 
whatever may transpire hereafter, I shall 
 constantly recur to the origin of our connec- 
 tion and be grateful. But if I have squan- 
 dered *the large sum of money raised in 
 Albany' no one can complain, for it has in- 
 jured no one. If I have applied it to the re- 
 lief of my father, I have done so silently. It 
 is not in my ^ heart or character' to make any 
 person feel the weight of obligation and if I 
 am benevolent I will never ostentatiously 
 tell the world that I know it. 
 
 *'Thus situated, and under the influence 
 of these impressions, it is fit that we should 
 change our situation with regard to one an- 
 other. It remains then for me to suggest that 
 our connection may cease entirely, and that 
 you should leave me hereafter to shift for 
 myself. 
 
 "But before I relinquish your assistance, 
 allow me to assure you that I do it not with- 
 out the deepest and most painful regret. 
 But it is necessary. Could you place your- 
 self for a moment in my situation, could you 
 feel for once what it is to be under obligations 
 to one who plainly declares that in his opinion 
 you stand degraded, you could not blame me. 
 This moment will form an era in my life 
 
 ii6 
 
which can never be recalled without emotion 
 Be assured, Sir, that I deplore the necessity 
 which separates us, however desirable I may- 
 deem the separation; and believe, that I shall 
 ever remain your friend, though I cannot sub- 
 mit to be your dependant." 
 
 Payne's father had become bankrupt. At 
 this crisis In the affairs of one he loved so 
 well, Payne at last, on October 4, 1808, found 
 it necessary to write to him of his own strug- 
 gles and his failures, and to suggest future 
 plans which seemed the only means of sav- 
 ing them both, — plans which out of a "sacred 
 respect for his feelings, he had hitherto en- 
 deavored to conceal:" — 
 
 "I trust you will not be displeased with 
 anything which has taken place, for I have 
 acted throughout consistently with my no- 
 tions of decorum, and have the testimony of 
 my own conscience to justify my proceedings. 
 
 "When I left Schenectady I was embar- 
 rassed to the amount of three hundred dol- 
 lars; and to extricate myself, depended on 
 the half year's advance from two hundred and 
 fifty subscribers to The Pastime, at one dollar 
 
 117 
 
and fifty cents each. Most of these were out 
 of town — some, who remained, said the 
 paper had been irregularly sent and refused 
 to pay; others would pay when the volume 
 closed; but very few gave me the money. 
 
 "Not despairing at this disappointment, I 
 endeavored to obtain thirty more names to 
 the ten dollar list which succeeded so well in 
 Albany; ^ for I had firmly resolved not to 
 return without the money; because that 
 would expose me to infinite mortification, 
 besides the unfavorable influence it might 
 have upon the scheme of my sisters. To this 
 list I obtained but sixteen new subscribers; 
 so finding all my plans defeated I resolved 
 after many struggles and much consider- 
 ation to propose, as a last alternative, the 
 Stage. 
 
 "My connection with Mr. Seaman has 
 never been a happy one; and I have not, nor 
 shall I be able to circumscribe my annual 
 expenses to $300. Mr. Seaman expressly 
 declares that at the end of two years from 
 August last his assistance ceases, and gives 
 me no hopes of aid afterwards, in the paper 
 
 * This was undoubtedly the plan, the success of which 
 gave Payne "the large sum of money" mentioned above. 
 
 118 
 
which we projected,^ and which held out such 
 flattering prospects of success. And, at that 
 time, when probably the Stage will be the 
 sole resort, success will be infinitely more 
 doubtful than at this present moment. 
 
 *'In short, I know no other means of as- 
 sisting you, of bettering my own conditions, 
 and of paying my debts. 
 
 "Mr. Cooper,^ whose opinion I have asked, 
 and before whom I have recited Anthony's 
 Oration and Brutus and Cassius' conversa- 
 tion respecting Julius Caesar, without point- 
 ing out a single fault, discourages me entirely. 
 He says that after infinite study and labor 
 I may possibly succeed — as a youth. Op- 
 posed to this, I have the favorable judgment 
 
 * One of the plans proposed by Mr. Seaman for Payne's 
 future, after leaving college, was as follows: — 
 
 "I think the law will be the great Theater (as leading 
 most directly to political eminence) on which nature has formed 
 him to act with success and reputation as well to himself and 
 friends as his country. While studying the law he might with 
 the assistance of a printer who would attend to the laborious 
 and menial part of the business conduct a daily paper in this 
 city which in a very short time under his talents as editor 
 would prove a valuable and productive property." (Origi- 
 nal letter in the library of Union College. To Payne's father, 
 February 14, 1806.) 
 
 2 Thomas Abthorpe Cooper, the tragedian. Born in Eng- 
 land in 1776. American debut, December 9, 1796. Died 
 April 21, 1849. 
 
 119 
 
of all others who have heard me; and if a 
 determination is to rest on the opinion of any 
 individual, I should refer it to Mr. Fennel.^ 
 
 "Mr. Seaman appears rather pleased with 
 the idea of separation. He told me he should 
 write you; but wfjunderstanding that he 
 should wait until Mr. Cooper had given an 
 opinion, he has been beforehand with me. 
 I am told he urges you to come hither imme- 
 diately. I will therefore postpone further 
 particulars until we meet; and can only add 
 that should you come to the city I will see 
 you remunerated for the expenses of the jour- 
 ney, if I am obliged to sell my shirt to pay 
 them. 
 
 "I endeavor to bear these changes with for- 
 titude and consider them trials rather than 
 afflictions; though my courage sometimes 
 gives way to sadness and impatience." 
 
 The publishing of The Pastime had not been 
 renewed on Payne's return to college, the 
 last number appearing under date of June 
 1 8, 1808; and he had not seriously settled 
 
 ^ James Fennell. English actor and dramatist. Born in 
 1766, He acted in many theaters in America between 1797 
 and 1806, with only mediocre success. 
 
 120 
 
down to work on his studies, when he suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining a slow and reluctant con- 
 sent from his father that he should try his 
 fortune on the stage. The reluctant consent 
 of his father and the hesitating approval of 
 his friends having been obtained Payne left 
 college in November for Boston, to prepare 
 for his new venture. 
 
 While Mr. Seaman was undoubtedly re- 
 lieved at being freed from his charge, he did 
 not entirely lose his interest in Payne, and 
 no doubt he assisted him in various ways 
 in his preparation for the stage. The three 
 months of preparation must have been busy 
 ones, and Payne probably entered upon his 
 work with the same zeal and enthusiasm that 
 had characterized his previous undertakings. 
 
 The public had not forgotten the young 
 author, and Payne had made many friends 
 during his residence in New York, so that a 
 large and fashionable audience crowded the 
 Old Park Theater, on the night of February 
 24, 1809, to witness his debut as "Young 
 Norval" in Home's Douglas. Behind the 
 scenes, with Payne's father, stood Mr. Sea- 
 man with Mr. Joseph D. Fay who had com- 
 posed the introductory prologue. 
 
 121 
 
Payne's handsome looks and his lithe, 
 agile figure won him instant favor. His 
 success was complete. The papers of the day 
 following his debut were extremely warm in 
 his praise. Mr. Dunlap, who was present, 
 says in his History of the American Stage, 
 "the applause was very great. Boy actors 
 were then a novelty, and we have seen none 
 since that equalled Master Payne." 
 
 Payne made his debut at an age most dis- 
 advantageous to himself: — "Too young to 
 enforce approbation by robust, manly exer- 
 tion of talents; too far advanced to win over 
 the judgment by tenderness," ^ or his audi- 
 ence by the novelty of extreme youth as had 
 been the case with Master Betty. 
 
 Payne's success under this handicap is 
 indicated by the well deserved complimentary 
 notices he received. Following the perform- 
 ance a supper was given in his honor at the 
 house of Mr. Price, the manager, and later 
 he was invited to make Mr. Price's house his 
 home during his stay in New York. 
 
 Determined, in deference to his father's 
 wishes, to keep aloof from the profession, 
 Payne adopted the policy of making short 
 
 ^ The Mirror of Taste, February, i8io. 
 122 
 
engagements. His engagement in New York 
 was for six nights only; but having one night 
 to spare, before his departure for Boston, 
 where he had his next engagement, he per- 
 formed on the seventh for his own benefit. 
 Despite the rigors of a cold stormy night, 
 Payne's share for this performance was four- 
 teen hundred dollars. 
 
 On closing his New York engagement he 
 had the misfortune to lose his temper, and in 
 a moment of childish impetuosity he deeply 
 irritated Mr. Price. It was part of the terms 
 of Payne's engagement that he was to be 
 supplied with the dresses made for him. The 
 finery of these dresses strongly appealed to 
 him. When his wardrobe was sent home 
 to be packed for the journey he found all the 
 finery taken away. On summoning Mr. 
 Price he was told that though the dresses were 
 his, the ornaments were taken from those of 
 Mr. Cooper, and had been restored to him. 
 Payne was furious and a heated argument 
 ensued. The result of his attitude in this 
 matter was far-reaching, both with regard to 
 Mr. Price and Mr. Cooper. 
 
 As the result of his success in the New York 
 engagement, Payne's fame began to spread. 
 
 123 
 
From the letter^ of one who witnessed his 
 performances in New York we find such praise 
 as this: — "I have seen Master Payne in 
 Douglas, Zaphna, Selim and Octavian, and 
 may truly say I think him superior to Master 
 Betty in all. There was one scene of his 
 Zaphna which exhibited more taste and sen- 
 sibility than I have witnessed since the days 
 of Garrick. He has astonished everybody." 
 
 Payne's first appearance in Boston was at 
 the Old Federal Street Theater, on April 2, 
 1809, also in the character of "Young Nor- 
 val." His success here was even greater 
 than It had been in New York and his recep- 
 tion amounted almost to an ovation. 
 
 From Boston Payne returned to New York. 
 The seeds of strife he had sown on the ter- 
 mination of his former engagement now bore 
 fruit. Concerning his second New York 
 engagement he wrote to Robert Treat Paine, 
 Jr., on June 11, 1809, — 
 
 "I was bullied on the one hand, and 
 preached on the other, into a compliance with 
 the meanest, most niggardly terms ever im- 
 
 ^ Life and Writings of John Howard Payne. G. Harrison. 
 Page 38. 
 
 124 
 
posed on a poor Stroller; one half the re- 
 ceipts of a seventh night, for playing six. 
 Cooper was here when I came. He treated 
 me very cavalierly. We met at a large dinner 
 party given by the manager, but did not speak. 
 In Broadway his Majesty and myself, the 
 great and little Roscius, frequently brushed 
 by each other, without ^crooking the pregnant 
 hinges of the knee' keeping up all the dignity 
 of two tragedy Heroes. I find a strong party 
 formed against me; and it consists exclu- 
 sively of Cooper's parasites. One of them 
 declared to a friend of mine that / was not 
 aware of the extent of injury my pocket and 
 reputation had sustained on account of my 
 not fawning to Mr. Cooper and the Manager II 
 Cooper, without putting up his name, had 
 ^looo to his benefit and last night of per- 
 formance. I had ^755, and by some comi- 
 cal manoeuvring not one third of the city 
 knew it was my benefit. My houses aver- 
 aged above ^500, — extraordinary for the 
 
 season." 
 
 It had been Payne's intention, after com- 
 pleting this engagement, to go to England; 
 but after remaining in New York until Au- 
 
 125 
 
gust he decided to give up the project and to 
 set about securing engagements for the com- 
 ing "Winter's business." Having heard from 
 many sources that Mr. Wm. Warren was 
 desirous of securing his services for an en- 
 gagement at his theaters in Philadelphia and 
 Baltimore, Payne wrote on August 5 to make 
 the necessary terms and arrangements. — 
 
 "Respecting Terms, I should prefer that 
 all propositions originate with yourself; and 
 shall merely observe that the novelty of my 
 appearance and the peculiar circumstances 
 of my situation promise a profitable specula- 
 tion on your side, and consequently justify 
 the hope of good terms on mine. 
 
 "The characters which I play are Norval, 
 Zaphna, Selim, Tancred, Octavian, Rolla, Ham- 
 let, Romeo, Frederick, Lothair, Hastings, and 
 Edgar in King Lear. To me it appears good 
 policy to limit all engagements to seven 
 nights; and should public approbation jus- 
 tify it to repeat a visit of the same length at 
 some distant interval of the same season. 
 Prior to anything else I should choose to 
 understand that the plays are to be thor- 
 oughly rehearsed before representation; and 
 
 126 
 
that the female counterparts should be given 
 to persons petite in figure as myself. I men- 
 tion thus emphatically the first of these arti- 
 cles, having suffered not a little from the 
 delinquency of others." 
 
 There is strong evidence to show that either 
 because of his trouble with Mr. Price and Mr. 
 Cooper or because he insisted upon holding 
 to the terms under which he played on his first 
 engagement, there was now arrayed against 
 Payne a very powerful combination for the 
 purpose of preventing his obtaining engage- 
 ments at the various theaters. 
 
 Satisfactory arrangements could not be 
 concluded with Mr. Warren, and in September 
 Payne drifted to Providence, Rhode Island. 
 His reception here, while there was no theater 
 open for him to act in, seems to have been 
 most affectionate. The Rhode Island Ameri- 
 can of September 26, thus speaks of his Provi- 
 dence visit: — 
 
 "This town has recently been indulged 
 with a visit from Mr. Payne, better known 
 by the name of the American Roscius. When 
 his panegyricks were running the newspaper 
 rounds, we preserved an obstinate and stub- 
 
 127 
 
born incredulity. Puffs of this kind are so 
 common and so indiscriminately bestowed 
 that they seemed to us evidence as decisive 
 that the subject did not merit them, as that 
 he did. Chance, or unexpected good for- 
 tune, at length gave us the more decisive 
 testimony of ears and eyes. From repeated 
 evidences of this kind, we are happy now to 
 concur in those applauses." 
 
 Subsequent to his visit to Providence, his 
 means reduced by lack of employment, Payne 
 in despair wandered to Baltimore trusting to 
 obtain an engagement on any terms. He ar- 
 rived in Baltimore an utter stranger with one 
 letter, principally on business regarding an- 
 other person, and with only a shilling in his 
 pocket. Strolling listlessly about the streets 
 in search of the theater, he chanced to notice 
 the sign of the bookstore to which his letter 
 was addressed. He noticed a group of per- 
 sons there listening to a letter. On mention- 
 ing his name the bookseller, Edward J. Cole, 
 caught him by the hand, and leading him to 
 the group exclaimed, "This is he!" Mr. 
 Jonathan Meredith and Mr. Alexander Con- 
 tee Hanson stepped forward. These gentle- 
 men told Payne that they were just reading a 
 
 128 
 
letter from a friend in New York telling of 
 a theatrical combination to put him down. 
 They bade Payne have no fear of this combi- 
 nation. He was at once taken to Mr. Mere- 
 dith's house, and both Mr. Meredith and Mr. 
 Hanson espoused his cause with great enthu- 
 siasm. Through the interest of these gen- 
 tlemen and their friends Payne closed engage- 
 ments in Baltimore, Philadelphia, and several 
 other southern cities, on very lucrative 
 terms. 
 
 The announcement of Payne's first ap- 
 pearance in Baltimore created a degree of 
 excitement and enthusiasm unprecedented in 
 the history of the drama in that city. He 
 played in Baltimore for twelve consecutive 
 nights, and at the close of his engagement 
 went to Philadelphia, where he enjoyed re- 
 ceptions similar to those he had received in 
 other cities. His Philadelphia engagement 
 of ten nights terminated on December 22, 
 with a benefit of ^1408. The best of his other 
 nights was ^1376 to Hamlet. From his two 
 engagements at Baltimore and Philadelphia 
 he netted between ^3000 and ^3200, accord- 
 ing to a letter written to John Barnard on 
 December 23, 1809. 
 
 129 
 
From Philadelphia Payne went to Richmond, 
 concluding his engagement there on Janu- 
 ary 6. At Richmond his profits were beyond 
 all precedent in that city. The first citizens 
 gave him their kindest welcome; and it was 
 at this time that he became intimate with the 
 family of Colonel Mayo. 
 
 After the Richmond engagement Payne was 
 at leisure until March, and we have reason to 
 believe that during the interim he paid a visit 
 to the Hermitage, Colonel Mayo's country 
 seat, just outside of Richmond. 
 
 Sometime later there appeared in the papers 
 some verses In praise of Miss Mayo. As these 
 verses were spread broadcast, — and also 
 appear in the collection ^ of Payne's poems, 
 — a letter written by him on October 6, 1810, 
 to Major Gibbon is of interest regarding their 
 publication. 
 
 "I take the liberty of commissioning you 
 to explain an affair which has given me much 
 uneasiness, because it Implies a kind of In- 
 delicacy of which I should blush to believe 
 myself capable. I refer to the publication of 
 some sportive verses in praise of a lady who 
 
 ^ Juvenile Poems, London, 181 5. Life and Writings of 
 John Howard Payne, G. Harrison. Page 310. 
 
 130 
 
is much belov'd in your domicile, and a 
 favorite wherever she is known. I have 
 waited some time, hoping to see Miss Mayo in 
 New York, that I might personally exonerate 
 myself from the censure to which this un- 
 pleasant business must expose me, while 
 the circumstances attending it are kept in 
 darkness. 
 
 "You are requested to state that I had no 
 agency in ushering the lines in question before 
 the public. A copy of them was uncere- 
 moniously taken from my room in George- 
 town by a visitor and by his means printed, 
 notwithstanding my earnest and repeated 
 desire that it should go no farther either in 
 type or manuscript. I am proud of having 
 it known how highly I esteem Miss Mayo, 
 and am conscious that the lines now spoken 
 of are in every way unworthy such a subject. 
 But my objections to printing them arose 
 not so much from the incompleteness of the 
 verses as from the effects which might follow 
 the act itself. I was certain that Miss Mayo 
 would shrink from that glare of public notice 
 to which a newspaper compliment, however 
 humble, would expose her; and was unwilling 
 to excite a belief that I thought her capable 
 
 131 
 
of deriving pleasure from such praise; a kind 
 of praise to which she could listen and pre- 
 serve that sweet modesty which ranks among 
 the loveliest attractions of her sex, and which 
 we so much admire in Milton's description of 
 our Mother Eve who started back and fled 
 from her own shadow in the lake. 
 
 "I do not know that Miss Mayo has seen 
 these verses which by a miserable conceit too 
 plainly indicate her name and residence; but 
 having noticed them in almost every paper be- 
 tween Alexandria and Boston, I think it more 
 than probable that they may have appeared 
 in Richmond. At any rate you will oblige me 
 by becoming a pleader in my behalf; and 
 tho' I have too much respect for Miss Mayo 
 to believe that she has not been offended, yet 
 I think she has urbanity enough to forgive me 
 after this explanation. Almost the whole of 
 
 my short acquaintance with Miss M has 
 
 been passed in making apologies and I hope 
 that this is the last trial I may give her pa- 
 tience, and the last opportunity I may afford 
 her of proving that she can be merciful." 
 
 Payne fulfilled an engagement at Charles- 
 ton, S. C, and subsequently played in Nor- 
 
 132 
 
folk and Petersburg, Va., and in August, in 
 the city of Washington; adding to his laurels 
 with each engagement. Before proceeding 
 to Washington he paid a visit to his old friends 
 in Baltimore. His visit must have been pleas- 
 ant, for on July ii, he writes Miss Caroline 
 Crafts : — 
 
 "My stay in Baltimore was enlivened by 
 the company of a charming acquaintance, 
 with whom I became almost in love. This 
 acquaintance is a girl of the purest heart; a 
 heart the most sensitive and affectionate. 
 She is young and amiable — not passively 
 amiable — not capable of enduring what dis- 
 pleases her without a murmur — but suffi- 
 ciently true to herself to feel when she had 
 done wrong, and with ingenuous simplicity to 
 confess the error. But what is all this to me? 
 She is placed far, very far, beyond me in the 
 world, and * fortune,' or rather want of for- 
 tune, — 'bids me blush to look on her.' But, 
 oh! — She is beautiful as Spring, and roman- 
 tic as the young enthusiast's dream." 
 
 It may not be amiss, in this connection, to 
 throw some light on Payne's love affairs. He 
 was never married. He had been engaged to 
 
 133 
 
a beautiful and accomplished young lady in 
 Boston, but the engagement was broken by 
 the interference of her parents. Mr. Harri- 
 son tells us that the unsuccessful termination 
 of this affair so affected Payne that he re- 
 mained single throughout his life. Such a 
 condition seems at variance with his nature. 
 Evidence, moreover, tends to show that Payne 
 was not unlike the proverbial sailor, with his 
 "girl in every port." This is not surprising, 
 for he was a social lion wherever he went. 
 His youth, vivacity and attractiveness won 
 him many friends and much attention, and his 
 stays at the various cities he visited, were not 
 unlike the sojourns of a conquering hero. 
 "New friends," writes Payne, "dining parties 
 and ladies' parties, throw me into a state of 
 miscellany; all the et cetera of frothy and 
 insincere fashionable attention keep me in- 
 cessantly busied by that active employment 
 which consists of doing nothing." Certain 
 it is that the number of the opposite sex with 
 whom, at various times, he believed himself 
 desperately In love could not be counted on 
 the fingers of both hands. Let us consider 
 his own ideas on the marriage question, and 
 further, see how he felt about his Baltimore 
 
 134 
 
affair, as explained to Miss Caroline Crafts In 
 December, sometime after Its termination: — 
 
 "You have descanted with force and elo- 
 quence on a subject which Is of much conse- 
 quence; since I am approaching the time when 
 it shall be proper for me to select a female 
 friend who may be my companion and adviser 
 for the rest of my life. You erroneously sup- 
 pose that I have made that selection, and de- 
 rive your belief from some declarations In 
 my last concerning a lady In Baltimore. You 
 even proceed to warn me against the danger 
 of a premature choice, and advise me to wait 
 until time and study shall have Improved my 
 mind, settled my fluctuating feelings and dis- 
 ciplined me not only Into a sedate, but (if such 
 a thing Is possible) elegant gentleman. 
 
 "My expressions (expressions of hope and 
 regret I mean) concerning the Baltimore lady 
 were sincere; but they proceeded from the 
 heart and not the judgment. Miss G ***** Is 
 a fine girl; she has, like a lute, all the passive 
 powers of musick in her, hut it requires a mas- 
 ter's hand to bring them forth. I know myself 
 well enough to be certain that I do not possess 
 that skill, and should I undertake the delicate 
 task and produce discord Instead of harmony, 
 
 135 
 
I should hate the instrument and despise my- 
 self for failing. 
 
 "I know how many obstacles there are to 
 prevent me from ever forming a connection 
 like that concerning which you warn me. My 
 graceless exterior is the first of these; but 
 altho' a sound mind might dispense with per- 
 sonal beauty, there is another thing, and that 
 is a competent fortune, — which it would be 
 absurd to throw out of the question. Money 
 is essential, not only to comfort, but respect. 
 Without money, wit is folly, and learning 
 dulness; With it, the merest blockhead may 
 become an * oracle.' 
 
 "Gold buys genius, and no churl will rail 
 When feasts are brilliant, that a pun is stale: 
 Tip wit with gold, each shaft with shouts is 
 
 flown ; — 
 He drinks champagne, and must not laugh 
 
 alone: 
 The grape has point, altho' the joke be flat; — 
 Pop! goes the cork — there's epigram in 
 
 that!!" 
 
 By the middle of September Payne was 
 back in New York. His father had in the 
 meantime moved there, and had again estab- 
 lished himself in the business of education. 
 
 136 
 
Payne's career on the stage, as we have 
 seen, had been varied. "I have been wander- 
 ing," he writes to Robert Treat Paine, Jr., on 
 October 6, 1810, "from one end of the the- 
 atrical hemisphere to the other, with various 
 success. Sometimes I found my pockets so 
 full of money that they would burst, and 
 then again my funds would sink so low that 
 I could not scrape together enough to pay 
 for sewing up the rents which my affluence had 
 created. I have been actively and pleasantly 
 employed, however, in observing men and 
 manners, and you know the interior of a play- 
 house, if it does not present an epitome of the 
 whole world, shews at least that part of it 
 which is most base and ludicrous. It is not 
 half so pleasing to unravel the mysterious 
 causes of the thunder and lightning of the the- 
 ater, and to find out what brings the ghost 
 up from the bottom of the stage, and what 
 lets him down again, as it is to explore the 
 secret springs which actuate the mock Jupi- 
 ters of the drama, who dress themselves out 
 in paper crowns and fancy they are real 
 emperors." 
 
 It was now time to think of engagements for 
 the coming season. Payne's plan was to make 
 
 137 
 
this tour his last, previous to his departure for 
 England in the spring, where he hoped to 
 spend eighteen months in study and obser- 
 vation. Although he planned to present a 
 set of entirely new characters, he met with 
 little success in his search for engagements. 
 Finally in November an engagement was 
 offered to him in Charleston, S. C, to com- 
 mence in February with the race week. Of 
 this he writes to Benjamin Pollard on No- 
 vember 13, 1810: — _ 
 
 "The terms are so unpromising that I must 
 reject them, altho' I am invited at the most 
 propitious part of the season. The races in 
 Charleston concentrate all the scatter'd no- 
 bility (who are at other times dispers'd, each 
 lord on his plantation) — to one point — and 
 that point is the city. Men of pleasure, 
 sharpers, horse jockies, and puppies who wish 
 to dash, — are also attracted thither by the 
 gaiety and dissipation of the time, and fly 
 into every splendid amusement, — like insects 
 who flutter around the taper and perish in its 
 blaze. That the Drama which is capable of 
 conveying instruction in the sweetest form 
 should be degraded to a mere pastime indicates 
 
 138 
 
equal depravity in the taste and morals of its 
 supporters. But this depravity exists; and 
 since there is no help for it Managers must 
 depend upon the idle, profligate and vulgar. 
 The ^judicious few ' are very few indeed. They 
 are always to be found in a theater, like 
 flowers in a desert, but they are nowhere 
 sufHciently numerous to fill one." 
 
 Completely discouraged, Payne cast about 
 for some new enterprise to replenish his de- 
 pleted fortune. The bookselling business was 
 suggested, and after careful consideration of 
 the scheme, he writes to P. H. Nicklin on 
 December 24, 1810: — 
 
 "I have finally determined as soon as pos- 
 sible to resign my own profession for it. What 
 condition can be more futile and uncertain 
 than a player's? He ^struts and frets ^ for a 
 domineering populace, who cannot discern 
 the difference between sound and sense. Per- 
 haps he explores the depths of science, ac- 
 quires a profound knowledge of the human 
 heart, and for the application of his skill, is 
 applauded by the 'judicious few:' But he 
 dies — and is forgotten. Tho' his funeral be 
 honorably attended, those very admirers who 
 
 139 
 
follow him to the grave, feel, at that moment, 
 a damning kind of regret, which prompts him 
 to wish he had been something better — His 
 memory perishes long before the marble slab 
 which covers him! 
 
 "As to myself, I never shall make a for- 
 tune whilst I remain a player. Suppose I was 
 long exiled from employ by sickness, or should 
 lose a limb, what would my Imperial Majesty 
 do then? — No breeze is half so variable as 
 the ^aura popularis,^ and since fame alone 
 produces money in this business, one may cal- 
 culate on famine after plenty as certainly as 
 Pharaoh's monitor, without his inspiration. 
 Our allurements to extravagance are so fas- 
 cinating that it positively requires the self 
 denial and frugality of a Joseph so to appro- 
 priate a flood of good fortune as to keep off 
 the ruin which commonly succeeds it. 
 
 "I should only tire you by detailing my 
 whole plan here, but I must state, before I 
 take my leave, that I have just projected, and 
 mean immediately to get under way, a kind of 
 reading room entitled the 'Literary Exchange,' 
 which is meant for a stepping-stone to a future 
 bookstore. When I get this reading room 
 a-going, it can be managed by my father, 
 
 140 
 
while I am attending to my theatrical pur- 
 suits abroad, which cannot be given up, till 
 I shall make something important out of the 
 * Literary Exchange.'" 
 
 The project of the Literary Exchange was 
 immediately launched. The times, however, 
 were cloudy, subscribers were few, and the 
 eight hundred dollars he was able to collect 
 was scarcely adequate for fitting out the insti- 
 tution, yet the idea was not entirely given up. 
 
 Again the Stage seemed his only salvation. 
 Could he but struggle on until the tide turned 
 or the managers became more lenient, Payne 
 felt that he could repeat his former successes. 
 On January 23, 181 1, we find him in despair, 
 thus appealing for aid to John Jacob Astor. — 
 
 "I am in want of fifteen hundred dollars, 
 and having no real property to pledge cannot, 
 without any prospect of success, apply to such 
 people as gain their living by the loan of 
 money. None of my intimate friends are 
 wealthy enough to aid me, and after consid- 
 ering for a long time all the possible means of 
 securing what I wish, I have made up my 
 mind to solicit your assistance, certain that 
 you will oblige me, If convenient; and that 
 
 141 
 
even should circumstances compel you to re- 
 ject my application, you will put a proper 
 construction on the motives whence it arose, 
 and respect the feelings which you cannot 
 gratify. 
 
 "My pride will not allow me to ask this 
 accommodation as a deed of charity, or with- 
 out offering, at least, the same advantages 
 that would result from a deposit in the bank. 
 I can pledge my honor that it shall be paid 
 in twelve, eighteen, twenty-four, and thirty 
 months, with any interest you choose to put 
 upon it; and I will get an insurance made 
 upon my life, which will remove the possibility 
 of your losing anything, in case I should die 
 before the term expires. 
 
 "You will perhaps wonder what has thrown 
 me so much out of funds as to render such a 
 loan desirable. I can explain this in a few 
 words. 
 
 "When I first went upon the Stage, I as- 
 sumed all my father's debts, which amounted 
 to three thousand dollars. I took upon my- 
 self the direction of all our family concerns, 
 furnished a house here, and thus added a 
 heavy and constant expense to the current 
 expenses of my profession. My profits until 
 
 142 
 
the arrival of Mr. Cooke ^ were adequate to 
 every demand. In less than two years, I re- 
 ceived thirteen thousand dollars, which I de- 
 voted, as fast as it came in, to expenses and 
 old debts, as they were called for. But when 
 I returned to New York last September, I 
 found the Theater shut against me. Soon 
 after, Mr. Cooke arrived. The managers of 
 this and the other Theaters, who have all 
 been prejudiced by improper means against 
 me, were delighted to possess some credible 
 excuse for keeping me off the Stage, and I 
 have, of course, suffered the bitter conse- 
 quences of their opposition. But when 
 Cooke's novelty is over and he shall have 
 play'd out his engagements, this excuse will 
 no longer avail. I have numerous friends 
 in almost every theatrical city, and can fight 
 my way. My object is, first, to go to Charles- 
 ton, where Cooke is not to play, and, if terms 
 are not offered me, to force myself on the 
 Stage there. I can then arrive at Philadel- 
 phia after Cooke's departure, and must take 
 the same course in that city, in Baltimore and 
 
 * George Frederick Cooke. English actor. Born in 1756. 
 First appeared in America at New York in November, 18 10. 
 Died September 26, 181 1. Cooke's popularity and success 
 suffered greatly from his excessive use of liquor. 
 
in Boston. Here, where Cooper, who is de- 
 servedly the God of the people's idolatry and 
 a man of the most inflexible resolution, is pre- 
 dominate, no exertions of mine in that way 
 can succeed. 
 
 "The experiment which I contemplate may 
 appear to you a wild and uncertain one, — 
 but I have tried it once, and with success, in 
 Baltimore. The consequence was that the 
 managers there have ever since made the 
 first advances toward engaging me, whenever 
 I have visited that city. As this has happened 
 in one instance, I know not why it should not 
 in others. 
 
 "I think, when I can resume my profes- 
 sional business, there can be no doubt of my 
 realizing enough to fulfill, in the time herein 
 proposed for the payment of this loan, which 
 I solicit, all the conditions on which I propose 
 to receive it, with perfect safety to myself, 
 and without encroaching upon my necessities. 
 My dresses, which have cost me upward of 
 two thousand dollars, are all paid for; my 
 house is furnished, and a great portion of the 
 claims on me are cancelled. Therefore, with 
 half of my former success, I can realize double 
 the emolument. 
 
 144 
 
"Consider, for a moment, the peculiar diffi- 
 culties of my situation. The claims against 
 me are great and constant; and I have hith- 
 erto been compelled to appropriate my money 
 as it was received to old family debts, and 
 current expenses. This circumstance, com- 
 bined withsomeextravaganceonmy part which 
 ought to have been avoided, has prevented 
 me from laying up anything; while the abrupt 
 and unexpected arrival of Cooke has put a 
 sudden stop to my receipts, without lessen- 
 ing the demands against me. When an adult 
 whose prospects are fair is pinched for money, 
 he can derive aid from notes of accommoda- 
 tion. But I am a minor. My note is not 
 worth a farthing. If I have no money, bright 
 as my future hopes may be, there is not a 
 bank, not a broker, that will lend me money. 
 I must wait till I can earn it. With an in- 
 teresting family dependent on my labors, can 
 there be anything more distressing than 
 destitution under such disadvantages ? Others 
 expect me to act with the promptness of a 
 man, while my resources are but little more 
 than the resources of a boy! 
 
 "The sum which I solicit will be appropri- 
 ated in this way, ^500 will be paid away for 
 
 HS 
 
some old claims on my father, ^600 will be 
 devoted to the current expenses of the family, 
 and ^400 I shall take abroad to bear my ex- 
 penses in the project which I have detailed 
 above. In my absence, the Reading Room 
 will be conducted by my father, and proba- 
 bly the subscription list may be increased 
 daily, so as to make that business eventually 
 profitable." 
 
 As a business proposition this scheme did 
 not appeal to Mr. Astor; nor was he seeking to 
 cover himself with glory by lending ^1500 to 
 a minor without security, and Payne was un- 
 successful in his quest. 
 
 George Frederick Cooke, whose name is 
 mentioned above, had become the idol of the 
 people and Payne was desirous of meeting 
 him; but as no one offered to introduce him 
 he took occasion to call and introduce him- 
 self. Cooke mentions the call in his journal,* 
 and seems to have been very favorably im- 
 pressed, for of Payne he writes: "I thought 
 him a polite, sensible youth, and the reverse 
 of *our' young Roscius." 
 
 * Memoirs of the Life of George Frederick Cooke. Wm. 
 Dunlap. New York. 18 13. Vol. II, Pg. 184. 
 
 146 
 
The friendship thus started, continued to 
 grow. Toward the latter part of January 
 Cooke's popularity began to wane, and Payne 
 was invited by the managers to act with him. 
 "Notwithstanding the kindness with which 
 he treated Master Payne," says Mr. Dunlap in 
 his life of Cooke, "and the terms of approba- 
 tion with which he spoke of him, — to have 
 a boy called in to support him, wounded his 
 pride so deeply, that he could not conceal his 
 irritation, or its cause." 
 
 Cooke's attitude deeply hurt Payne, for 
 he had been induced to accept the terms of 
 the engagement, which were not to his liking, 
 more to improve every chance of contemp- 
 lating this great actor than in the expectation 
 of pecuniary reward. Hoping to adjust mat- 
 ters, and above all not to lose his friend, 
 Payne hastened to write to Cooke. — 
 
 "Mr. Price says that you will not perform 
 again till your return from Philadelphia. 
 After the flattering assurances which I have 
 received of your desire to aiford me all the aid 
 in that way which it is in your power to give 
 I cannot believe that you decline playing from 
 any wish to gall my pride or lessen my pecun- 
 
 147 
 
iary profits. I have told Mr. Price that your 
 not appearing must make a difference in the 
 current receipts and have requested him to 
 vary in consequence my terms. He declares 
 that he will not do so, and adds that he is of 
 the opinion that you are in reality well, but 
 that my engagement had induced you to 
 feign sickness. Forgive me for troubling 
 you thus. If you are sick, Mr. Price will 
 need extraneous aid and ought to pay for it. 
 If you are not, and / am the cause of your not 
 wishing to appear, I promise to relinquish my 
 engagement, and shall require no explanation, 
 but remain as ever, with the highest respect 
 for your talents, Your friend. Etc." 
 
 Cooke persistently feigned illness whenever 
 he was announced to play with Payne, and 
 only once did they appear together, when on 
 March i, 1811, Cooke played Lear to Payne's 
 Edgar, for the benefit of the latter. 
 
 The proceeds of this engagement afforded 
 but temporary relief. It was as hard after- 
 ward as before for Payne to secure engage- 
 ments, and the next few months were spent 
 in going from place to place in the hope that 
 something would turn up. During this period 
 
 148 
 
Payne played a five days' engagement at Al- 
 bany, opening on April 5, as Octavian in The 
 Mountaineers. During the engagement he and 
 his company gave Hamlet, and it is probable 
 that this is the first ^ cast of the play to 
 appear in Albany. 
 
 To his friend Mr. Gwynn, who suggested 
 that he should come to Baltimore, Payne 
 writes on August 14: — 
 
 "Why should I come to Baltimore in pref- 
 erence to any other place, when misery and 
 mortification meet me at every turn? But 
 my soul is like the potter's clay, — it hardens 
 as the flame grows fiercer. I am, however, 
 so near Richmond that I must go there first. 
 My pride, too, is interested. I am disposed 
 to appear fearlessly among the players and 
 shew them that I will not retreat after being 
 once foiled. Possibly I may there get an en- 
 gagement by some means. At any rate, I can 
 meet and resist calumny, and I will sacrifice 
 my life sooner than my honest pride." 
 
 In September Payne made a tour through 
 the "rude and desolate" mountains of Vir- 
 
 * Players of a Century. A Record of the Albany Stage. 
 H. P. Phelps. Albany, 1880. Page 34. 
 
 149 
 
ginia. On the twenty-fifth he arrived in 
 Baltimore to make a final effort to secure 
 engagements for the coming season. To his 
 petition the majority of the stockholders of 
 the Baltimore Theater gave their consent to 
 his use of the house could he gather together 
 a company to play there during the fall and 
 winter, adding their signatures to a request 
 to Messrs. Warren & Wood that they grant 
 the use of the scenery on reasonable terms. 
 Unfortunately this plan fell through. Better 
 fortune, however, awaited him, and a letter 
 to his sister Eloise on November ii, shows 
 that the tide had, at least for the moment, 
 turned: — 
 
 "The difficulties which have given you so 
 much uneasiness are disappearing, and I 
 have two engagements now, — one for twelve 
 nights in Philadelphia and the other for the 
 same term in Boston, which must yield me a 
 handsome profit — enough to carry us thro 
 another year. In addition to this I am en- 
 gaged in some literary work which when com- 
 pleated, must produce me a comfortable in- 
 come and will not be attended with any risk. 
 I play in Philadelphia the first week in De- 
 
 150 
 
cember; and whatever you can conveniently 
 spare before that time you will oblige me by 
 sending to our father; for myself I can scrape 
 along well enough — the kindness of your offer 
 to me shall never be forgotten, altho I do 
 not avail myself of It. 
 
 "With regard to the other points in ques- 
 tion I am determined not to relinquish my 
 present profession until I shall have galn'd a 
 competency from my exertions in it; — be- 
 cause the pursuit of that object stimulated 
 me to undertake it in the beginning, and the 
 attainment of that object will be its only jus- 
 tification in the end. 
 
 "If I could realize a moderate fortune as a 
 'Traglclan,' that fortune would give me more 
 than a * pasteboard triumph,' and would place 
 my secession in such a point of view as to ad- 
 vance my prospects in any other enterprise 
 which it might be expedient to undertake." 
 
 It had been the agreement that Payne 
 should play one week in Philadelphia, and 
 then play a second engagement; this fact 
 was to be kept a secret until the first had 
 passed off. For his second engagement Payne 
 prepared himself in a new set of characters 
 
consisting of Rolla {Virgin of the Sun), 
 Orestes, Venoni, Alexander, Osman (Zara), 
 and Oronooko, and for these characters he 
 purchased an entire new wardrobe. 
 
 He opened in Philadelphia on December 9, 
 with Octavian. He had been led to believe 
 that he would be given the holidays for his 
 second engagement, but when after a few 
 days he came to make arrangements he was 
 informed by Mr. Wood, the manager, that he 
 "certainly could not be so mad as to expect 
 him to give up the holidays." 
 
 "You must," added Mr. Wood, "suspend 
 your engagement during them, and renew it 
 so that it may terminate in the first ten days 
 of January." "Before I wrote the final an- 
 swer to Wood, dated on the twentieth," says 
 Payne in a letter to William Gwynn,^ "I 
 knelt in my chamber and prayed with much 
 earnestness that our Maker would endow me 
 with power to settle this matter properly." 
 
 The whole Philadelphia affair was a disap- 
 pointment. After all the trouble to which 
 Payne had gone to appear in new characters, 
 
 * Letter to William Gwynn, December 24, 181 1. Payne 
 details the whole affair, giving copies of his own and Mr. 
 Wood's letters. 
 
the other parts of only two were made ready 
 by the manager, and the rest not even 
 cast. In this as in other affairs connected 
 with the engagement Mr. Wood seems to 
 have placed every obstacle in Payne's way. 
 
 Of the engagement Payne writes in the same 
 letter to Gwynn ; — 
 
 "My benefit on Monday, Alexander the 
 Great, first time, was ^539. The two last 
 nights, seven and eight, the overplus above 
 my real engagement, we lost ^150, ^50 ^ 
 piece, which I should think ought in justice 
 to be given up, but this ^50 has been charged 
 against me, so that in all I receive for all my 
 efforts, and as the end of all my hopes, three 
 hundred dollars. 
 
 "My constant prayer is for fortitude. My 
 friend, the world frowns on me, but God will 
 not forsake me. I feel now, however, the value 
 of every trifling attention and the sting of 
 every trifling neglect." 
 
 Soon after the Philadelphia disappointment 
 Payne returned to New York, leaving there on 
 February 3, to fulfill his engagement in Boston. 
 Before going to Boston he succeeded after 
 much bickering in closing an engagement 
 
 153 
 
with Mr. Wood for his Baltimore house, later 
 in the season. 
 
 From Boston Payne wrote to Mrs. R. P. 
 Air on March 3 : — 
 
 "I am sick of the Theater and everything 
 connected with it. Two thirds of the actors 
 are as unreal in private as they are in public. 
 Their souls like their triumphal cars are made 
 of gilded pasteboard. In less than two 
 years I hope to take an eternal farewell of the 
 profession, and then, my dear friend, I will 
 assume as a right that standing in society 
 which is now conceded to me as a favor. ''^ 
 
 The Boston engagement was another finan- 
 cial failure, and Payne writes of it to his 
 sister Eloise on March 5, 1812: — 
 
 "My success here has been so inconsider- 
 able, that were I not blest with some trifling 
 fortitude, it would have made me, combined 
 with other disappointments, wretched beyond 
 endurance or description." 
 
 Now when everything seemed dark again 
 the blackest cloud of all appeared on the hori- 
 zon. On March 7, his father breathed his 
 last, and on receipt of the news Payne has- 
 
 IS4 
 
tened to New York to do what was In his power 
 to straighten out his affairs. "When I reached 
 New York," he says in his letter to Mrs. Air, 
 "while my features were undisturbed, my 
 heart was bursting. When I enter'd our 
 home and my eye glanced upon those objects 
 every one of which brought my departed 
 father before my eyes, reason became extinct 
 and I surrendered myself at once to tears and 
 sorrows." 
 
 Even from this last and greatest affliction 
 Payne emerged with the most admirable for- 
 titude. How really exquisite is his accept- 
 ance of his fatel On March 17, 1812, he 
 thus writes to the Reverend William Ellery 
 Channing: — 
 
 "Whatever trials I may be called to endure 
 (and I have recently seen many, very many) 
 I shall endeavor to sustain the worst that can 
 happen, with firmness and submission and to 
 remember in the midst of misery that * when 
 Heaven afflicts, 'tis virtue to endure.'" 
 
 It is probable that at this time, the project 
 of the Literary Exchange, which had been 
 carried on in a small way by Payne's father, 
 was definitely abandoned. 
 
 In April Payne fulfilled his Baltimore en- 
 155 
 
gagement. His financial success was only 
 moderate, and the engagement was rendered 
 most unsatisfactory by Mr. Wood's refusing, 
 on the fulfillment of the contract, to pay him 
 the sum ^354-75, to which he considered him- 
 self entitled. The matter was finally ad- 
 justed by Payne's playing one extra night, 
 upon which the amount claimed by him was 
 paid. 
 
 During a private visit to Baltimore in 
 June, 1812, the printing office of his friend 
 Mr. Alexander Hanson, who edited and pub- 
 lished The Federal Republican, was destroyed 
 by a political mob. Payne had never for- 
 gotten the kindness of Mr. Hanson on his 
 first visit to Baltimore, and he at once offered 
 his assistance in the re-establishment of the 
 paper. His offer was promptly accepted, and 
 it is probable that the service he rendered was 
 of the greatest help. In October, when things 
 were again running smoothly, Payne was of- 
 fered an important position on the paper. Al- 
 though he had been living on borrowed money 
 ever since June, Payne decided against ac- 
 cepting the offer. He explains his refusal in 
 a letter to George Richards, Jr., on October 
 24, 181 2: — 
 
 156 
 
"You cannot need to be assured that my 
 reasons for declining the offer are totally dis- 
 connected with objections to the situation, 
 which I should be proud to occupy, — but 
 they arise from the load of embarrassment 
 which I am compelled to remove, previous to 
 my permanently settling in any way." 
 
 There had been working for some time, in 
 the theatrical world, a scheme of opposition 
 to the "Trust." In July, William Twaits 
 accepted the management of the "Opposition 
 Theaters," and from him Payne endeavored 
 to secure engagements for the fall season. 
 It is probable that he met with some success, 
 and that he fulfilled minor contracts (and 
 further gave recitations, relieved by instru- 
 mental music) in several of the southern 
 cities during the Fall. 
 
 In December, through the friendship and 
 generosity of Mr. Hanson and Mr. Meredith, 
 with the aid of several other friends and ad- 
 mirers, the opportunity that he had long 
 sought for was given to Payne. A purse of 
 $2000 was raised for the purpose of affording 
 him a year's stay in Europe, so that he might 
 have a wider field for the exercise of his talents 
 157 
 
and better opportunities for their improve- 
 ment by study and travel. The trip was in- 
 tended to be merely one of improvement, and 
 Payne purposed to remain just long enough 
 to create some curiosity on his return to 
 America, when he intended to make a fare- 
 well tour of the theaters, and quit the Stage 
 forever. On February 27, 18 13, he thus writes 
 to the Reverend T. Houlbrouke: — 
 
 "Absence will give a zest to my re-appear- 
 ance in America, leisure, study and observa- 
 tion will enable me to supply the defects of a 
 superficial education, and at the same time 
 to pave the way for a future establishment as 
 a bookseller in America." 
 
 It was, then, with keen anticipation of the 
 new world that lay before him that on the 
 seventeenth of January, 18 13, Payne set sail 
 for Liverpool in the brig Catherine Ray. 
 
 158 
 
The reading of old letters is ever a delight- 
 ful pastime, and the pleasure derived is en- 
 hanced in proportion to the prominence at- 
 tained by the writer or the topic on which 
 he writes. In a measure we become despotic 
 over Time and are permitted to enter into 
 the secrets and very souls of the great men 
 of the Past. 
 
 The early letters of John Howard Payne 
 form a striking example of this. Nothing is 
 concealed, — his thoughts, his feelings, his 
 hopes, plans and disappointments, all invite 
 our inspection and lead us through the maze 
 of conjecture to an understanding of his true 
 character. 
 
 We find Payne to have been a youth of a 
 proud and extremely sensitive nature, hasty 
 in forming plans and prompt and zealous in 
 carrying them out; a youth, quick-tempered, 
 generous to a fault, extravagant, and yet his 
 first and warmest wish, a desire to relieve his 
 father from the burden of supporting the 
 family. 
 
 At the age of thirteen, thrown on his own 
 159 
 
resources, and almost immediately becoming 
 the center of an admiring throng, it is little 
 wonder that his friends were apprehensive of 
 the ultimate outcome. 
 
 At fourteen he had attracted considerable 
 attention by his acting and especially by his 
 dramatic criticisms. At sixteen he had 
 written most of the verse published by him in 
 1813 as "Juvenile Poems," and had also 
 made his first attempts at play-writing. In 
 other words, Payne, although so young, had al- 
 ready foreshadowed the chief activities of a 
 long and eventful life — his acting, dramatic 
 criticism, song-writing and his plays. 
 
 His acquaintance with Dr. Nott seems one 
 of the most fortunate occurrences of his life, 
 for thus proper guidance was given at the 
 period when it was most needed. 
 
 In the frequent excursions that displeased 
 Mr. Seaman I can find nothing noticeably 
 worthy of condemnation, and it will have 
 been noticed that in nearly every case Payne 
 was under the care of some responsible person 
 or was absent by permission of either Dr. 
 Nott or his father. The friction with Mr. 
 Seaman seems rather to have been caused pri- 
 marily from the fact that Payne failed to 
 
 160 
 
show a sense of obligation to his benefac- 
 tor in proportion to the liberality of that 
 gentleman. 
 
 That Payne did not achieve a lasting fame 
 as a great actor is due largely to the fact that 
 from the time he entered professionally upon 
 a theatrical career, he regarded the stage solely 
 as a means of discharging his debts. Had that 
 love of the theater which first led Payne to 
 it as an amateur remained the same when he 
 came to it as a professional his name might 
 have gone down in history as one of the fore- 
 most actors that America has produced. 
 
 Payne's later career "was the unhappy one 
 of disappointment, a history of baffled aims, a 
 life nowise proportioned to boyish promise."^ 
 His achievements were the less remarkable 
 the older he grew. His struggles were like the 
 "flutter of a bird against its bars, trying them 
 all in turn, and all in vain."^ 
 
 Payne did not return to America from 
 Europe until 1832. "Complimentary bene- 
 fits in Boston, New Orleans, and New York 
 awaited him, public receptions and dinners, 
 
 * From the Oration by Leigh Robinson at the unveiling 
 of the monument at Oak Hill Cemetery, June 9, 1883. 
 2 Ibid. 
 
 161 
 
for all which he returned his acknowledg- 
 ments in the graceful terms which never 
 failed him. But the projects which thence- 
 forth engaged his attention were the desperate 
 aftergame of life; international reviews, 
 sacred history, Cherokee Indians, and what 
 not, — projects of a fertile rather than a prac- 
 tical brain. Finally came the consulship to 
 Tunis in 1842, recalled in 1845, renewed in 
 1 85 1. There amid the dusky aspects and the 
 fallen columns of that ancient land, there in 
 the shadow of the broken and dejected col- 
 umn of his own life," ^ Payne passed away 
 on the 9th of April, 1852, in the sixty-second 
 year of his life. 
 
 * From the Oration by Leigh Robinson at the unveiling 
 of the monument at Oak Hill Cemetery, June 9, 1883. 
 
 162 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Original manuscript letter book, in the hand 
 writing of John Howard Payne, containing copies 
 of letters written by him from 1804 to 18 19. 
 
 Original letters and manuscript of poems in 
 the possession of Union College. 
 
 The Thespian Mirror, — A Periodical Publi- 
 cation, Comprising a Collection of Dramatic 
 Biography, Theatrical Criticism, Miscellaneous 
 Literature, Poetry, etc. By John Howard Payne. 
 New York, Southwick & Hardcastle, 1806. 
 
 The first number of the Thespian Mirror made 
 its appearance on December 28, 1805, the four- 
 teenth and last on May 31, 1806. The four- 
 teenth number has become an extreme rarity, 
 there being but five sets known containing this 
 number. The set in the author's possession is 
 complete and was formerly in the library of 
 Philip Hone, at one time Mayor of New York. 
 
 The Pastime. — A periodical issued by John 
 Howard Payne while a student at Union College. 
 The first number made its appearance on Feb- 
 ruary 21, 1807, and the thirty-sixth and last, on 
 June 18, 1808. The set in the possession of the 
 author is complete. 
 
 Memoirs of the Life of George Frederick Cooke. 
 Wm. Dunlap. New York, 1813. 
 
 163 
 
Memoirs of John Howard Payne, the American 
 Roscius; with Criticisms of his Acting, in the 
 various theaters of America, England and Ireland. 
 London, 1815. 
 
 This is the first published sketch of the early 
 life of Payne, and while the volume contains much 
 of value it is chiefly made up of transcripts of 
 articles dealing with Payne's acting. 
 
 The New York Mirror. — November 24, 1832. 
 
 The New York Mirror. — December i, 1832. 
 
 The articles appearing in the Mirror under the 
 above dates, written by Mr. Theo. S. Fay are 
 perhaps the most authentic accounts of Payne's 
 life that have as yet appeared. 
 
 Players of a Century. — A Record of the Al- 
 bany Stage. H. P. Phelps. Albany, 1880. 
 
 John Howard Payne, Dramatist, Poet, Actor 
 and Author of " Home, Sweet Home." His Life 
 and Writings. By Gabriel Harrison. Philadel- 
 phia, 1885. 
 
 John Howard Payne. A Biographical Sketch 
 of the Author of "Home, Sweet Home." By 
 Charles H. Brainard. Washington, D. C, 1885. 
 
 The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor. — 
 Philadelphia, 1810-1811. 
 
 164 
 
N*. I. 
 
 THE 
 
 THESPIAN MIllROIl 
 
 SATIRDAV EVENING, DECEMBER 2S, 1305. 
 
 (€o tljt public. 
 
 " 7o r::ake the soul bij tender strokes of art. 
 " To ri.7«f tficgenhdi and to mend the Item (, 
 " To make mankind in conscious virtue hold, 
 " Live <*er each scene, aud t}e vjfud thcu behold ; 
 *' For this the Tragic muae Jirst trod ike stage, 
 " Commanding tears, to stream thro^ ev'rtj age, 
 " Tyrants no more their savage nature kept, 
 " And foes to virtue, luonderd how tliey wept .'"' 
 
 IN presenting the- piesent sheet to the enlij-^hteiied citizen? 
 of NEW-YORK, as a specimen in matter and manner of a work 
 which on s'jHicient encouracrement will be issued in tiiis 
 metropolis, the editor would observe that it is proposed to 
 comprehend a colh'otion of interesting documents relative 
 to the STAGE, and its performers; chiefly intended to pro- 
 mote the interests of the AMERICAN DRAMA, and to erauicute 
 false impressions respecting the nature, objects, design and 
 tendency of theatrical amusements. 
 
 It cannot be denied that the stage, is cu^culated for pur- 
 poses, at once, the most laudable and usefa). Fronj its 
 glowing and impressive representations, the Tyvanc is 
 induced to relax his wonted severity, the hand of Avarsce is 
 opened to the generous influence of Benevolence; the wan- 
 tonness of the piofligate, is succeeded by philosophic 
 thoughtfulncss ; die asperity of Misanlliropy is sGtV&Ue 
 Vol. r. No. 1 
 
 j2Jisis^EaikmmmHi^M 
 
2 THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 into charity and cheerfulness ; the conscience of the criminal 
 is struck to repentance, and those absurdities and foUic;' 
 which pervade the 
 
 " Living manners as they i-iscy" 
 and are not immediately cognizable by the criminal or canon 
 laws, are made to shrink and retire before the iash of dra- 
 matic satire : 
 
 " Safe from the bar, the pulpit and the throne, 
 " Yet touched and shatnd by ridicule alone .'" 
 
 Under these impressions, the EDITOR of the THESPIAN 
 MIRROB^ ventures to present his work to the public eye.; 
 and though it comes forward un introduced, and without any 
 other recommendation, than its own merits, he is induced 
 to hope, that the little stranger will be received with civility, 
 judged with candor, and, (if consistent with its deserts) be 
 rewarded by the cheerful beams of public patronage. 
 
 Having said thus much, the editor, respectfully submits 
 the publication, and its plan-^ to the candid exammation of 
 the community at large, anticipating, (while he espouses 
 the cause of the stage, as the epitome of men and manners, 
 and the teacher of virtue and morality,) his reward in the 
 encouraging patronage of the citizens of new-york, to 
 whom the publication is respectfully dedicated, by 
 
 The Editor. 
 
 ^riectctr. 
 
 REMARKS ON THE THEATRE. 
 
 IF the observation which has been frequently made, bea jostone, 
 tliat " nothing has a more cunsidcrnble and immediate influence upon the 
 m/inners of a people than the turn xuhich public amuseincnts take among 
 them,"' it will constitute, we think, a strong argument in behalf of a 
 THE ATR E. For whilst the exhibitions of the stage are capable of giving 
 the most exquisite entertainment, tliey forcibly convey the most important 
 instruction to a rational audience ; and are therefore agreeable and useful 
 sehools of refined manners, of generous and manly sentiment, of prB- 
 
THESPIAN MIRROR. 3 
 
 elciit and virtuous conduct. To deny that this is really the case, would 
 be obstinate piejudice. The sages oi' Greece and Koine, and the cii- 
 ijghtened of latter times, in their entoniiums oiitheDiama, irave jiuii- 
 iied the assertion. Experienct has done "itiore — it lias exeiriplihed it. 
 
 Let us but reroHect the oJficessLwX ends of the Drama, its pretensions 
 -"'' -..-~~-or^ and we shall not hesitate in forming a true judgment of its 
 merit. Its first endeavour is to touch the heart ; its next to mend it. For 
 the former purpose, a polished diction and an elevation of ser.timent, 
 are extremely necessary: to effect the latter, propriety of fable, inte- 
 resting situation, variety of character, and, above all, morality oflcssOn, 
 are esseniialiy requisite. These are perfections wiiich tiiepof/ wiil fur- 
 nish. It will be the business of tlie acior, by tlie vivid force of represen- 
 tation, to give them a peculiar influence over themiiid. 
 
 It IS well known, that in dramatic exhibitious, of all others, the hu- 
 man genius has opportunities of exerting and dispiaymg itself, in the most 
 agreeable, tlie most engaging light, and perhaps to the greatest advan- 
 tage. In them all the powers of oratory, ail tht; variety of expression of 
 which action or language are capable, and all the graces of delivery, 
 aie to be displayed. From the stu^e, where Roscius exercised all the 
 energies of rhetoric, the '•laanter in7nodo,and thcfortiter iiircCiCERO 
 caught that animated manner of composition and elocution, to which he 
 owed h\sja}ne and its immortality. 
 
 According to Aristotle, iUe epic poem is purely an imitation ; whereas 
 the dramatic h action itself. The former imitates by narration, the lat- 
 ter rises into actual existence, kindles into forcible hfe, and is the very 
 story it would represent. Its general business, among the ancients, was 
 the instruction of mankind. The dignity of its original institution it 
 still maintains. Prodesse ct delectare is still its grand characteristic. And 
 •without saying too much of a well regulated Theatre, we may safely afiirm 
 that, in no other school are 7noral senti?nait 3.m\ refined 77iamier&mort 
 emphatically enforced ; or vice, and fol/y more effectually discountenanc- 
 ed. Its scenes give a finished display of life and manners ; and exhibit 
 in the most amiable dress, in representations the most affVcting, all the 
 dignity which manly virtue gives to the human character, and the honour 
 and happiness with which it rewards its possessor. Moral goodness is 
 rendered familiar to us, and appears truly amiable when set before us in 
 such an affecting and engaging manner. As a good picture strikes the 
 mind with greater force, and gives a more lively idea of the object repre- 
 sented by it than any description by words can do, so, to represent pro- 
 priety of behaviour in precepts does not move the atFections so powerfully 
 as when we see it delineated in example. Narration is fiequently unaf- 
 fecting. Didactic discourse, cold and uninteresting. But where cha- 
 racter is personified, and historical events exhibited, attention will be 
 captivated, and a communication for virtuous sentiment opened to the 
 heart. The great maxims of happiness so recommended to mankind, 
 by introducing them thus adorned with all the graces of description, elo- 
 quence and poetry, cannot fail of interesting, and making a deep and 
 lasting impression on the mind. We insensibly learn to form just and 
 impartial opinions" of human life. Every air.iable affection, every hu- 
 man feeling, every generous sentiment is called forth, and cherished in 
 (he breast. Ob the theatre^ also, the turpitude and deformity of vice 
 are so strikingly represented, and so severely lashed, that the spectator 
 shrinks with horror from its view, and is most effectually warned and 
 taught to escape its dominion. The painful lessons of experience are 
 snared. Prudence and wisdom are learned from tlie wretched conse- 
 quences of guilt, tliere painted and described. 
 
4 THESPIAN MIIIROK. 
 
 More particiiiariy in tlie cataelrnphe, where the poet and actor exert 
 Ihe'u utmost stretch of ability to rouse every feeling of the audience, are 
 the passions excited, and improved, the miiid filled with the most noblfi 
 ideas, and l!ic heart awakened to the most generous emotions. 
 
 It is said that by these means, thai eminent tyrant, Alexander of 
 Phercea, wh>) had passed his hfc in an uninterrupted series of cruelties, 
 withojl commisi ration and without remorse, wa-. melted iHto tears at the 
 exhibit. on of a tragedy, where the plTects of caiamiiy on the mind of 
 the safferer were expre.ssly set forth before his imai^ination. His heart 
 \va iiude to feel a kindly pity ; and gradually softened into a tender re- 
 gret fo; the misery in which his own ambition and barbarity had involv- 
 ed others. Charmed with tlie noble senlini'^nts of the poet, and atifected 
 by Ui^ pathet description, accent a. d gesture of the actor, he felt, per- 
 haps for t'irt rii>t time, with high delight, tlie sweet emotions which 
 synijjath^ excite^. 
 
 If scenic lepresentations co\ik\ inspire a tyrant with the tender sensibi- 
 lities annexed to humanity and benevolence: such as are less deficient in 
 feeling, they may encourage in goodness ;ind strengthen in virtue, such 
 as are equally insensible thev will have a tendency to mollify and reclaim. 
 
 " As a perfect T rag erf?/," says the elegant ^fWi'so/j , "is the noblest 
 production of human nature, so it is capable of giving the mind one of 
 the most delightful, and most improving enteTtd\nmt^n[%. Diversions of 
 this kind wear out of our thoughts every thing that is mean and little. 
 They cherish and cultivate that humanity which is the ornament of our 
 nature. They soften insolence, soothe affliction, and subdue the mind 
 to the dispensations of Providence. It is no wonder, therefore, that in 
 all the polite nations of the world, this part of the drima has met with 
 public encouragement '* 
 
 Nor is Co/«erf?/ unimportant, or uninteresting. Designed to shew the 
 incoiivenienciea arising from imprudent conduct, and irregular sallies of 
 j)assinn, to ridicule the follies and vices which fashion may have intro- 
 diici d, or habit and pride sanctioutd, and to represent the true source 
 of private enjoyments from social atfections, from the judicious choice of 
 acquaintance and from amiable and discreet conduct ; it would also di- 
 rect in the conduct of life, and form the mind to virtue. 
 
 We shall now beg leave to conclude the subject for the present saying 
 ■with Horace, ot the ^ctor : 
 
 " Jlle 
 
 }ueum cui pectus inuniter angit, 
 
 Irrital mulcet, falsis ierroribus implet, 
 
 Ut magus ; et modo mc Thehis. 7nodn ponit AtherdsP 
 
 " 'Ti« he taho gives my breast a thousand paint. 
 Can make me feel each passion that k€ feigns ; 
 Enrage, compose, vcitk more than magic art, 
 IVitlt pay and with Urrcr tear my heart ; 
 And snatch me, o'er the earth, a.s thro* the air, 
 £o Tliebes, to Athens, when he will, or where." 
 
 Pope. 
 
THF:SPrAN MIRROR. s 
 
 ©riginuL 
 
 Some Account of the Life of Mr. Fennel, the celehrated 
 Tragedian. 
 
 DESCENDED from a family of ihe first respectability, in Jjoiuion, 
 Mr. Fennel rccieved a lii^er^ledu. ation, and was originally intended for 
 the pursuit of u^.e law : but a strong pjediiection for the stage, indvir.ed 
 him early t-^ resign his Blackstone i'or the more attractive pages of 
 Sha K.Si'i.ARE : and liis theatrical pasr.io.i being indulged without the 
 consent ut his friends, whose prejudices were equally invincible on the 
 ■one side, as his on the other, he selected Edinburgh as being distant 
 from his residence, for hii lirst tliea'rical essay, where he performed in 
 1787, the parts of Jaffier, Othello, &o. with great applause, and under 
 the assumed name of Camoray. 
 
 Mr. Fennel's great and unexpected success at Edinburgh, induced 
 iiim to contemplate a successful reception at Lontlon, to which place he 
 soon after returned. On his arrival here, he called on Mr. Harris 
 (without mtroduction of any kind). ...but having spened his business, and 
 recited a few passages of dramatic compo?itions before this gentleman, 
 Mr. Harris was so highly gratified by iliese specimens of his ability, 
 that a night was immediately fixed for his debut at Coxeiit Garden, where 
 he ran through liis principal ciiaracters with much success ; but still re- 
 taining his fictitious name. 
 
 The increasing fame of Mr. Fennel, induced the manager of the Edin- 
 burgh Theatre to wish his return to their stage, where he had proceeded, 
 and played there some time with approbation, "till one eveiiin<5 bein» an- 
 nounced to perform the character of Jaffier, and the gentleman who had 
 formerly represented it (Mr. Wood) was fixed for Pierre , but enraged at 
 the exchange, though the characters have ever been deemeti equally 
 good, Mr. Wood complained of the injustice of the manager (probably 
 from motives of envy to Mr. Fennel) to his friends. Iviaded with in- 
 vectives by the Plebeian critics of the town, he was called upon to make 
 an humiliating apology, which he would not submit to ; a law case en- 
 sued on both sides, which lasted a longtime, but was of more expence 
 to all parties, thanprofit to any-. .if we may except the lavjijers. 
 
 Immediately after this singularly infamous atfair, Mr. Fennel quitted 
 the stage in that city with indignation, and played a short time at York. 
 but \n 1789, he '•eturned to London, where he resumed his siluation for 
 one season, (but without the expected success) at Govent Garuen. He 
 afterwards engaged in a periodica? publication, callefi the " 'rhcatriral 
 
6 THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 Ctisrclian," and produced a comedy entitled " Lindel and Clara, av- 
 ail!!) to Gibraltar ," which has been fiequently performed, and was 
 prinf.ed i79L 
 
 Not long after this, Mr. Fennel was engaged by the late Mr. Wjg- 
 N£LL, at his A^tn; Theatre in Philadelphia, and met with great success. 
 He has since performed at the various Theatres on the continent ; but, 
 for some reasons unknown to us, (a circumstance to be iani>ented by all 
 lovers of the drama) Mr. Fennel, about two years ago, took leave of 
 liic stage, and has since appeared only occasionally. He is now engaged 
 in an extensive establishrnent o{ Salt IVorks, the plan of inasiufactur- 
 ing which, he has brought to great perfection. 
 
 Mr. Fennel's deportment is graceful. ...his person majestic, ..his face 
 admirably calculated for the stage.. ..bis action easy and judicious. ...his 
 utrerance distinct and natural he excels in the more weighty charac- 
 ters of the Drama ; his master piece is " Othello, Moor uf Fenice. *' 
 His manners are polished, and his understanding refined. 
 
 Mr. Fennel's residence is near New-London. He is now on a visit 
 to this city, and we aie happy tohearthat he has been prevailed upon to 
 run through his principal dramatic characters in a few days, on our 
 Stage. 
 
 IrnitatiG vita:, speculum consuctudinis,ima^o veritatis Cicero, 
 
 The Imitation ofLife,..the Mirror of Manners. ..the Representation of Truth 
 
 THEATRICAL REGISTER. 
 
 " 'TV* 'xith our judgments, as our watches,... none 
 " Go just alike... .but each believe his ov:n. 
 
 IN commencing a critical and impartial register of the performances of 
 the New-Yop.K Theatre, we would observe that our remarks shall be 
 generous in spirit, and judicious as our understandrng will allow ; not 
 directed to the feeling of individuals, (as i$ too often tiie case in essays^ of 
 this iitttiMc) much less to the injury of the establishment : but always 
 fndeavnviogto interest and improve, we shall strive to be generally candid, 
 and only 
 
 Blame where we nmst — praise where we can. 
 7"his premised, we shall comhif^nce out review with a sketch of the 
 entertainment? ior the week last past, when an additional evening was. 
 aHoii-i^d for performance^ on accoant of the customary holidays, at this 
 £Pason (»f the yrar. 
 
THESPIAN MIRROR. 7 
 
 The ainusemenis for Monday Evening, iatrodiiced (o the notice of 
 the New-York audience, Mr. and Mrs. Young, (wm thcl htaiie Koya!, 
 Norwich, (England) and late of the Boslon Theatre ; for which o< cation 
 (he aoniired opera ot the Mountaineers, was got upwilhconbidcrable 
 success. 
 
 We l)ave heard that on a sudden iihiess of Mr. Cooper, in tlie Boston 
 Theatre, wiien tiiis play was announced for representation, Mr. Young 
 oflered himself as a substitute for his part, and indctd took it, at an liaif 
 hour's notice. When he came forward, he was received as Mr. Cooper, 
 and during the whole of the second act, was svipposedto he the Anjenc;ni 
 Roscius. It hiid now circulated among the audience, that an jipology 
 had been made for Cooper's non-appearance, previous to llie rise of ihe 
 curtain, before the company was collected, and that Mr, \oung was the 
 Octavian of the evening ! The surprise of tlie spectators w as great : — but 
 iheir admiration of the actoi's ability was greater. 
 
 We quote this little occurrence only to exemplify that Mr. Young's 
 personation of Octavian was there supposed little inferior to Mr. Cooper'^, 
 as this gentleman had, "ot a long time before, represented the same cha- 
 racter on the "^anie boards. 
 
 Tlie house on Monday Evening was crouded, and if we may judge 
 from the approbation expreased, generally gia'ified. On the appearance 
 of Octavian the applause was great. Mr. Young has some ver) sulking 
 attitudes, which h.e displays with much grace. IJis voice is bad, and his 
 utterance too precipitate. His person is very well calculated for the stage; 
 and he possesses requisites for an actor, which, with due practice and 
 attention, may procure him eminence. Thofe parts of Ocimv^H whicli 
 require the most energy, such as the introductory soliloquy, tl'C interview 
 with Floranthe, ^c. -were particularly deserving, but m declamaicry 
 speaking, Mr. Young is faulty. It must, however, be allowed, ihiil his" 
 peilormance on this occasion, discovered much talent. 
 
 We have now to notice Mrs. Youn g, a promising actress, who made hri- 
 debut in Agues. We are told that she is yet a 'novidaic under the baiunrj^ 
 ol the Thespian Muse, and as such she is certainly deserving of every 
 encouragement. 
 
 Mrs. Johnson as Floranthe could do no otherwise than well:— the 
 other parts were generally respectable. 
 
 1 he Spoil'd Child, as the after-piete, gratified us with Littk Fickle 
 by Mrs. Jones ; who in that characti r, to use a common phrase, ''Jnirly 
 out shoivn herself." We can say nothing of the particular beauties of her 
 performance, wiiere the whole was indescribably charming. 
 
 Old Pickle, by Mr. Hogg, was pertfctly chatacteristic, zr\dTogg 
 the Author, by Mr. Martin, was meritorious. 
 
 TUESDAY EVENING. 
 
 The Coiinry Girl, and Harlequin's Imusion, 
 
 It is always a pleasing task to give merit iU due commendation ; and 
 still more satisfactory, to be warranted in frequent encrmia. VV> at^ 
 confidejit that if praise is duo to any one ou uic AmciKsn Stage, Mrs. 
 
e 
 
 8 THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 Jo^'F,s is ar.iong the first who deserve \i ; and on no Conner occasion ha^ 
 bhegik'i-n muie^pleasure, llian in her Miss Peggy, ou Taesd4y evening. 
 
 This cliaracter represents a rural Country Girl, jjossessed of native 
 archness, bui unrefined manners, wilh whom an old it^formed lake is in 
 lovu Sl'-c promises him iu:r iiand. and he cai i-ieb her before marriage, la 
 visit the Bi"itish metropolis. On her emerging from the simple scenes of 
 nature, to winch she had been accustomed, into the gaiety of London, 
 she IS struck, with the novelty of the scenes around her, and at length 
 meets a young man. for whom a mutual attachment is conceived, and the 
 event terminates (at'ler mucli incidental intngue) in the conclusion of a 
 marriage betw<'eii the lovers. There is a similar counterplot, wtiich coi\- 
 cliides nearly in the same manner. 
 
 it is in pavt.^ like the Country Girl. Ihat Mrs. Jones exceis; and w 
 speak thf opinion of the audience, in observing thai we should never wish 
 to sec Miss /'f^gy better played, even conld ii be excelled. 
 
 Mr Johnsons Mondtj was very characteristic. 
 
 Mr. Tyler, in Harcnurt, was perfectly at home. Martin's 
 Sparkish, particularly liie drunken scene, was very well ; but we thought 
 it somewhat oveidone. 
 
 Mrs. ViL-LERs' Alaihca excited much applause ; we cannot but regard 
 this lady as a valuable acquisition to our stage. Miss White was res- 
 pectable. 
 
 — «{'®'»»-~ 
 
 THURSDAV EVENING. 
 
 George Bar?izvell, and Blue Beard, 
 
 We have before observed, that in those passages of Drama, expressive 
 of the strongest passions, Mr. Young's chief excellence consisted; con- 
 sequently, that part of this interesting tragedy which represents Barn- 
 well, after being hurried into the extreme of vice by the arts of Milvjood, 
 struggling whether to complete his intamy by the murder of his uncle, 
 %vhich he afterwards effects, received more particular force in his hands. 
 We were happy to observe that the applause was so gtjneral. 
 
 We are always gratified to witness theannunciation of Mrs. Johnssm, 
 iiecause we are always confident of entertainment fiow her : herMitaiA 
 increased our favorable sentiaients of her talents. 
 
 • Mrs. Barret h.as a fault in her pcrfonnauce 3, which is, we believe, 
 peculiar to lierself....that of speaking with tedious deliberation We arr* 
 of opinion, that a little care will correct this, which she may be assured, 
 will add much to her playing, whi' a is, in other respects, very good. 
 Mikvood was well treated in her hands. 
 
 NEW-YORK-. ..PRIT^TED FOR THE KDITOR, BY SOUTHWICK ANP 
 H.-iRD CASTLE, NO. 2, WALL-STREET. 
 
ADDENDA 
 
 From the Thespian Mirror of January ii, 
 1806, we quote Payne's comments on the 
 production of Jane Shore: — 
 
 We have seen no play recently represented 
 on our boards, which met with a better sup- 
 port than Rowe's excellent Tragedy of Jane 
 Shore. Mr. Fennel's *Lord Hastings' is 
 certainly the best character he has recently 
 attempted. His last scene was particularly 
 excellent; and when he repeated the following 
 passage, every heart sympathised in the sor- 
 rows of the unhappy Hastings, and scarce 
 an eye remained unmoistened : — 
 
 'Yes, RatcIIffe, I will take thy friendly counsel 
 And die as a man should; 'tis somewhat hard, 
 To call my scatter'd spirits home at once: 
 But since what must be, must be — let necessity 
 Supply the place of time and preparation. 
 And arm me for the blow. 'Tis but to die, 
 'Tis but to venture on that common hazard, 
 Which many a time in battle I have run; 
 Tis but to close my eyes and shut out day-light, 
 To view no more the wicked ways of men, 
 
 173 
 
No longer to behold the tyrant Gloster, 
 And be a weeping witness of the woes, 
 The desolation, slaughter, and calamities. 
 Which he shall bring on this unhappy land.' 
 
 The ensuing scene was likewise very im- 
 pressive; but in the scene of the 3d Act, with 
 * Gloster,' he was not sufficiently forcible, and 
 in one passage was imperfect. — 
 
 'When shall the deadly hate of faction cease. 
 When shall our long divided land have rest,' &c., 
 
 were somewhat lamely delivered. His expres- 
 sion of countenance on receiving Gloster's 
 sentence was inimitable. 
 
 Mrs. Johnson's 'Jane Shore' was unexcep- 
 tionable. Her animation at hearing that Hast- 
 ings had espoused the cause of the wrong'd 
 young King, and was determined to shield 
 him from oppression, was finely conceived; 
 but that look of eloquence with which she 
 heard herself proclaimed an outcast to society 
 immediately communicated throughout the 
 house — and when she comes forward in her 
 mean attire, hungry, faint and weary, she 
 
 'Entranc'd attention — and a mute applause.* 
 
 The pearly tear hung on each moistened eye 
 — and every visage looked admiration. We 
 
 174 
 
conceived her last dress was, however, too 
 good for her supposed situation. 
 
 Mrs. Barrett conceived her part very 
 well and in the latter part of her perform- 
 ance was very excellent; but she ranted so 
 much that her voice was not sufficiently 
 strong to support the exercise. She dis- 
 played great feeling in her parting scene with 
 Hastings. 
 
 With Mr. Tyler we were much pleased. 
 His *Dumont' was feeling, expressive and char- 
 acteristic. In short, it was performed with 
 uncommon justice and discrimination. 
 
 Mr. Hallam performed 'Gloster' with ac- 
 curacy. His age, &c. were suited to the char- 
 acter. Martin, in ' Belmour,' was not perfectly 
 at home. 
 
 The charming trifle of the SpoWd Child was 
 successfully repeated. We have before spoken 
 of Mrs. Jones' 'Little Pickle,' which probably 
 could not be equalled on the American stage. 
 Her songs, particularly that of — 
 
 *Poll dang it, how d'ye do,* 
 
 were encored. Mr. Hogg, who is always ex- 
 cellent in characters of the like nature, was 
 very much applauded in 'Old Pickle;' and 
 
 175 
 
Mr. Martin's *Tagg' was perfectly character- 
 istic. Mrs. Simpson was barely passable. 
 
 Again, on the following March 8, when the 
 same play was given "for the benefit of Miss 
 Dellinger," Payne writes in the Thespian 
 Mirror: — 
 
 Benevolence, ever awake to the call of mis- 
 fortune, exerted herself this evening in favour 
 of Miss Dellinger, who (by the untimely pri- 
 vation of a father, urged by the oppression of 
 unfeeling creditors to the commission of sui- 
 cide) is left, the sole dependance of a numerous 
 family. Through the generosity of the mem- 
 bers of the theater, who individually volun- 
 teered their services, this evening was fixed 
 for her Benefit. It is hoped that other public 
 institutions will emulate the example of the 
 Theater, and devote something to the assist- 
 ance of this unfortunate young lady, in order 
 to place within her reach the means of sup- 
 porting those who, by this melancholy decree 
 of Providence, are left to look up for their 
 daily bread to an afflicted and unhappy sister. 
 ^He that giveth to the poor, lendeth unto the 
 Lord; and that which he giveth, will he pay unto 
 him again.'' 
 
 176 
 
The distinguishing features of Mr. Cooper's 
 *Lord Hastings,' were chastity and nature. 
 He seemed *no actor there' — yet once, in the 
 very torrent and tempest of his passion, ex- 
 claiming to Dumont, ' Avaunt ! Base Groom ' — 
 
 *'Twas wanting what should follow!' 
 
 Neither were we perfectly satisfied with his 
 manner of turning — 
 
 *And die — as a man should;* 
 
 That he must die, had been previously decreed 
 by the Lord Protector; the reading would 
 therefore have stood better, — 
 
 *And die, as a MAN should.'' 
 
 Mrs. Johnson appeared for the first time 
 since a very severe illness, to aid the cause of 
 misfortune. An interesting dignity charac- 
 terised her 'Jane Shore.' Mrs. J. has a manner 
 of describing angles with her elbows, which is 
 not graceful. . . . 
 
 In commenting upon The Wheel of Fortune, 
 with the Romp as an after-piece, Payne says : — 
 
 Mr. Hogg's 'Watty' was excellent, and 
 without the disadvantage of a bad person for 
 
 177 
 
the character, would have been perfectly nat- 
 ural. * Watty,' though an overgrown lad, is 
 not yet one of those whom Cowper calls — 
 
 'Children of a larger growth.' 
 
 and we are induced to think that the appella- 
 tion of ^Little Watty ^ was misapplied. 
 
 Misses Graham and White were tolerable. 
 We would recommend more animation and 
 energy to the former; and to the latter, we 
 think more attention to her part than to the 
 audience, would be an improvement. Glanc- 
 ing over the boxes has no good appearance, 
 however well it may be done. 
 
 The following appeared in the Thespian 
 Mirror of January i8, 1806; they are the lines 
 referred to by Payne when writing to his 
 father about the altercation with Mr. Seaman, 
 — see pp. 27-8, ante: — 
 
 [Written to be spoken at the Benefit of the Misses 
 Hodgkinson.] 
 When polished talents meet an early doom, 
 And beauty sinks untimely to the tomb, 
 The muses haste the tuneful meed to pay, 
 And crowned with cypress form the elegiac lay; 
 With pensive mien surround the silent urn 
 And mourn, though conscious 'tis in vain to mourn — 
 
 178 
 
No fancy'd griefs now wake the impassion'd sigh, 
 
 No woe fictitious swells the streaming eye; 
 
 For pity here two hapless orphans sue, 
 
 And raise their little hands with hope to you. 
 
 No mother's soothing voice allays their fears, 
 
 No father's cheering accent checks their tears — 
 
 Bereft of both, to you they gladly turn. 
 
 And hope to find those friends whose loss they mourn. 
 
 Ah! think how oft their father's magic powers 
 
 Have sooth'd your cares and wing'd the lingering hours; 
 
 Think with what transport you've delighted hung, 
 
 On the enchantment of their mother's tongue — 
 
 Mute is that tongue! those powers to please are o'er! 
 
 They'll charm the eye — delight the ear no more! 
 
 But while you mourn the parents' early fate, 
 
 With pity view their children's orphan state; 
 
 Raise them from earth, their infant steps sustain, 
 
 Remove the pangs of poverty and pain. 
 
 Cheered by your favors — by your bounty fed. 
 
 Their opening talents to perfection led, 
 
 May rise to grace these boards, so often grac'd 
 
 By beauty, merit, elegance and taste; 
 
 By you sustain'd, in worth, in charms they'll rise. 
 
 And future Hodgkinsons shall bless your eyes. 
 
 The following Address was spoken by the 
 two little orphan girls at their Benefit in New 
 York City for which the foregoing lines were 
 written : — 
 
 FANNY 
 
 Ere three short winters with their snows are fled, 
 A Mother dies; a Father, too, is dead: 
 Their little Orphans, we, this night appear. 
 And, lest we pain you, dry the trembling tear. 
 179 
 
Oh! yet forgive us if a tear should start, 
 Spite of the struggles of an infant's heart; 
 If e'er a sigh, when most your smiles approve. 
 Breathe its soft tribute to a Mother's love! 
 Departed Mother! — cherish'd here art thou; 
 Thy voice of sweetness, and thine angel brow. 
 Oh! must that voice forever hush'd remain? 
 And can'st thou never smile on us again? 
 Still, tho' we see thee not, be thine the care 
 To shield the infants of thy love with pray'r, 
 Oh! still thy guardian smile of fondness shed. 
 And we will love thee, Mother, tho' thou'rt dead! 
 Yet ours is hope — for e'er his parting breath 
 The best of Fathers yielded up in death; 
 As in his languid eye stood life's last tear, 
 He told us we should find our Parents here. 
 "Tho' from these feeble limbs, my Babes," he sigh'd, 
 
 "Swift to the heart the pulses all retire: 
 And soon, ah soon! its throbbings must divide 
 
 Forever from his weeping Babes their Sire — 
 Yet mourn not with an anguish too severe; 
 
 Oh! weep not ever o'er a Father's tomb! 
 For many a sigh is yours, and many a prayer, 
 
 And Beauty waits to rear you into bloom — 
 Farewell!" — he sigh'd — and feeble was the sigh; 
 
 For hardly did the pulse of being glide: 
 Then, lifting up to heaven his closing eye, 
 
 He bless'd his Babes, and — died! — 
 Lamented Spirit! sweet be thy repose! 
 Sweet as thy parting voice that sooth'd our woes; 
 For one, still bleeding with the recent smart. 
 Has press'd thy weeping infants to his heart; 
 And Friends, far dearer to their souls than life. 
 Contend to shield them with a generous strife. 
 
 1 80 
 
ROSINA 
 
 Yes, dearest Sister! our Papa was right; 
 For we have Friends and Patrons here this night. 
 What, tho' Mama is gone, methinks I trace 
 Her smile that blest us, in each beauteous face. 
 Tho' heaven has forc'd our dear Papa to die, 
 A Father beams from each indulgent eye. 
 
 FANNY 
 
 Our kind Protectors! tho' we boast the while 
 At best to please you but a grateful heart; 
 Ah, who can tell, but, cherish'd by your smile. 
 
 The Infant may surpass its Parents' art.^ 
 So, rescued from the bleak, autumnal gale, 
 The little shivering tenant of the vale. 
 To gentler skies by some kind hand convey'd. 
 In more than native beauty is array'd; 
 Points its soft tendrils mid the winter's gloom. 
 And springs and blushes with protracted bloom. 
 
 ROSINA 
 
 Our Parents nozv! than Parents dearer far! 
 Sweet to your slumbers be the Orphan's prayer! 
 That prayer, oh never will we fail to give. 
 Nor cease to love you, till we cease to live. 
 
 Payne's precocity in dramatic criticism may 
 be further observed in the following comments, 
 which we reprint from the Thespian Mirror of 
 February i, 1806: — 
 
 Sheridan's opera of the Duenna possesses 
 sterling merit; it has survived the test of repe- 
 
 181 
 
tition for years, and is attractive, without ex- 
 traordinary aid from the actor. On Monday 
 evening it received its customary tribute from 
 a crowded and fashionable house, and our 
 ears were repeatedly exhilarated by the ap- 
 plause of the boxes; the encore of the pit; and 
 the thunders of the gallery. 
 
 Anxiety was awake as to the debut of the 
 noviciate in Carlos.^ He was encouragingly 
 received. We hope that in the future manage- 
 ment he will rather endeavor to cultivate its 
 sweetness, than to extend its compass. The 
 terrors incident to a first attempt Induce us 
 to forbear any closer comments on this first 
 representation of Carlos. 
 
 Mr. Johnson gave much satisfaction in 
 *Don Jerome;' but In the expression of rage, he 
 
 'Outrav'd the ravings of the storm.' 
 Perhaps less oi fury, would be more of nature. 
 
 * "The Editor of the Mirror was not a little amused on 
 hearing it whispered throughout the boxes, on this occasion, 
 that he was to personate Don Carlos in the Duenna! and 
 his amusement was somewhat heightened on the entrance of 
 the expected noviciate. 'A pretty strapping boy, however,' 
 exclaimed one — 'pretty tall of his age,' said another. The 
 Editor begs leave to inform those who still labour under this 
 unfortunate mistake — that he really was not the Don Carlos 
 of Monday Evening!!!" 
 
 182 
 
Mr. Tyler in 'Ferdinand' was respectable, 
 tho' not without blemishes. We would wish 
 him in aiming at rapidity, to avoid if possible 
 the extreme of indistinctness. 
 
 Martin, in 'Signor Isaac' was truly excel- 
 lent. We never saw him mingle so little of 
 himself with his manner of acting. He was 
 (with one or two exceptions) a perfect son of 
 Levi. We are sorry that so much cannot be 
 said in praise of his Sultan in the farce. 
 Through the whole of the afterpiece, he was 
 uniformly dull and most wretchedly imper- 
 fect — and frequently seemed — 
 
 'To dumb forgetfulness a prey.* 
 
 Hogg had as much of the Swine about him 
 as we could wish in the fat Friar; and truly 
 never was there a satire more just, or more 
 severe, than that which the Convent scene 
 furnishes on the pretended sanctity of the 
 holy fathers. 
 
 We cannot help noticing the pale-visaged 
 porter. He called to our minds Shakespeare's 
 Apothecary — 
 
 'Despair is in thy looks,' &c. 
 
 If critics may be allowed to descend so low 
 as to the picking up of a crumb, we must say 
 
 183 
 
that we never saw Mr. Robinson to such an 
 advantage, as in the personation of the meagre, 
 half starved attendant. 
 
 Mrs. Young was unusually Interesting. 
 * Louisa' certainly did not suffer in the person 
 of her representative; and although the voice 
 and action of Mrs. Young may have been 
 secondary to the beauty of her person, yet we 
 cannot but be of opinion that a little additional 
 distinctness of utterance and freedom of ges- 
 ture, will render her a still more able represen- 
 tative of the youthful and arch 'Louisa.' 
 
 Mrs. Simpson in the * Duenna' was more 
 audible and distinct than we have ever wit- 
 nessed her. 
 
 Of Mrs. Jones'^ * Clara' too much cannot 
 
 ^ In a previous Issue of the Thespian Mirror, Payne 
 said: "Mrs. Jones cannot be otherwise than excellent. She 
 is, speaking without flattery, the most fascinating and really 
 deserving actress that ever trod the American stage." He also 
 printed the following lines, addressed to her: — 
 
 Oh! blest is the moment, sweet warbler! and long 
 Shall its raptures be mingled with memory's sigh, 
 
 That gives us thy tenderness, beauty, and song, 
 
 And the glow of thy heart in the gleam of thine eye! 
 
 Dear to thee be that moment! still dearer than those 
 
 When the first lisp of infancy murmur'd its pray'r — 
 For the tempest once past; Oh how sweet is repose! 
 And virtue how bright, when she dawns from despair. 
 
 184 
 
be said In the way of encomium. This lady 
 certainly possesses the strongest claims to 
 public approbation and support. Her voice 
 has melody, sweetness and expression — her 
 manner ease, sportlveness and Interest. In 
 the song of * Adieu thou dreary pile!' she al- 
 most surpassed herself. Her trills were given 
 with the utmost delicacy; and such was the 
 delight which this song Imparted, that ap- 
 plause could scarcely continue silent to its 
 termination. 
 
 Miss Delllnger's voice has some pleasing 
 traits; but she is most lamentably deficient in 
 expression of manner, force of emphasis and 
 distinctness of articulation. 
 
 It would be unpardonable were we to pass 
 over the (T esprit of Mrs. Johnson in *Roxa- 
 lana.' She gave to the imperfect piece of the 
 * Sultan' more Interest than we thought it 
 capable of possessing. Tho' this lady's forte 
 is the plaintive and the sad, we are happy to 
 observe that she can be light and playful, 
 without descending. 
 
 We shall close our remarks with one of a 
 general nature. In modern opera the Song Is 
 announced by some studied phrase which 
 drops from the lips of the performers, and 
 
 i8s 
 
which is well understood to be preparatory to 
 the exercise of the lungs. The Orchestra then 
 opens upon us and the singer in dumb sus- 
 pense awaits the termination of the symphony. 
 This interval is on every occasion a mighty 
 melancholy one. From the sadness Into which 
 the visage of the performer settles the moment 
 that he has uttered the preparatory sentence, 
 one would suppose it had been his sentence of 
 death; and from the doleful manner in which 
 he paces the stage during the interval of the 
 symphony one would imagine he was listening 
 to his requiem. In an instant the Hoyden of 
 sixteen has become the heart-broken widow 
 of thirty; and the careless spark assumes a 
 visage and deportment like that which im- 
 mortalized the * Knight of the rueful counte- 
 nance.' For this departure from the uniform 
 personation of character we can see no plau- 
 sible excuse; and perhaps the apparently 
 dreaded interval, which is to introduce us to 
 'Dorothy Dump,' or 'Amo Amas' would be 
 better filled up by an easy deportment on the 
 part of the performer than by that long-vis- 
 aged sadness, which would seem to predict 
 nothing less than the torture of lungs and 
 ears. 
 
 1 86 
 
In the Thespian Mirror oi February 22, Payne 
 thus caustically expresses his disapproval of 
 Mr. Young's interpretation of Romeo: — 
 
 The little which we saw of Mr. Young's 
 * Romeo' (having been detained from the 
 Theater until the conclusion of the 4th act) 
 exceeded our expectation. He was, notwith- 
 standing, faulty — and we must recommend 
 to him to bestow some preparatory study 
 before he aspires to the more elevated charac- 
 ters of Shakespeare, whose plays are as diffi- 
 cult to represent with accuracy as they are 
 superior to the works of common dramatists. 
 Lady Montague relates an instance of a lady 
 at Constantinople, who fell in love with a 
 dictionary. If this gentleman could form a like 
 attachment, and take advantage of the passion 
 by correcting his accent and pronunciation, he 
 would give pleasure where now he offends 
 propriety. He must also pay some respect to 
 his Author, and be careful to avoid blundering 
 on the — 
 
 'EMPTY account of BEGGARLY boxes,' 
 
 for such mistakes will not make 'the charmer 
 in [his] turn feel the pleasing effects of a good 
 benefit.' 
 
 187 
 
Reading and literary information are es- 
 sentials to a good actor; and a perfect ac- 
 quaintance with at least one language is 
 indispensable. The celebrated Kemble is said 
 to have bestowed months, and indeed years 
 upon single characters. It is not unmeaning 
 'words, words, words!' which he commits to 
 memory — it is ideas, ideas, ideas. He studies 
 the approbation of the judicious — not the 
 applauses of the million. Was such the case 
 with Mr. Young, and would he in the first 
 place correct his pronunciation, and then en- 
 deavour to give us what is theatrically called 
 just readings — his voice, person and gesture 
 would answer for themselves. The patient 
 study of Walker's standard of Pronunciation, 
 and his Rhetorical Dictionary, with an accu- 
 rate conception of the parts which he under- 
 takes, can only fit him for a representation of 
 the leading characters of the plays of Shak- 
 speare. Mrs. Johnson's 'Juliet,' was inter- 
 esting. 
 
 i88 
 
N°. XIII. 
 
 THE 
 
 THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 SATl/UDAY EVENING, MAKCH 22, 1806. 
 
 Co t|je pmk. 
 
 <^^^^^^.y 
 
 THE Editor of the Thespian Mirror respectfully ac- 
 quaints his friends and subscribers, that, in consequence of 
 circumstances which have transpired since the publication 
 of the fourth number of his miscellany, he lias resolved to 
 relinquish the editorial duties of that work, in order, more 
 particularly, to apply himself to studies, which may pro- 
 mote his future usefulness in life, and mature, strenorthen, 
 and extend a disposition for literature, which has grovvu 
 with his earliest years. 
 
 When the MiRROR was commenced in this city, it wiis ur; 
 der circumstances which have since become vnj teriaily ulLf;«:- 
 ed. From the interest which some warm-hearted friends, 
 (perhaps injudiciously,) took in the Editor, the work was 
 brought forward, and enthusiastically ushered into public 
 notice. Various were the sentiments of the community re- 
 specting, it, and as various was popular conjecture on the, 
 effects of the misdirected exertions of it.<5 juvenile Editor. 
 From a wish to render him use/id rather than ornamcntd in 
 society, plans were agitated for placing him in the toil pos- 
 session of advantages, with which he might cuJtiva'^c a liter- 
 ary taste, and direct his view to objects whicJi promised 
 benefit to his country, satisfaction to his friends, and utllitv^ 
 and honor to himself. The work which he had heedlessly 
 commenced, was considered, by the judicious, as the fruis 
 of an itch for scribbling, the materials for which, without a 
 more extensive stock of ideas, drawn from the pure foan- 
 
102 THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 tains ot classical learning, would be soon exhausted. The 
 pationac^e of o:)e, to wliom he ftds obligations which he 
 cannot expiviss, lius placed within his reach advantages, the 
 rejection of vviiich, would be the height of folly and ingra- 
 titude. A cojifgiate education will, therefore, be the object 
 of }(!s prrserst pursuit, and the study of the law, the goal of 
 hig furare eT:ertions ; and, determined exclusively^ to devote 
 himself to these important objects, he now declares his de- 
 K'/^ij of disconciniiing rhe jVIii^ROR, after the publication of 
 r'li'i nr.nit>cr (which completes the original terra of engage- 
 iKcnt) and of waiting patiently the laurels ol famey until 
 science %\\^\\ expand his mind, and crown Iris labours with 
 lasting and deserved celebrity. 
 
 He begs leave to express his warmest acknowledgments 
 to those friendii, who have encouraged him, by their assist- 
 ance, in the advancement of the Mirror ; he is» convinced 
 *hat, feehng for his real welfare, they will approve the step 
 which hi- ha-j tai<en : and he assures them, that cherishing 
 the most grateful sciJtinvents, he will never feel himself more 
 happy, tlaan in the opportunity of expressing that esteem, 
 *yjth which he is, 
 
 Their much obliged. 
 
 And very humble servant, 
 
 JOHN H. PAYNE. 
 
THE PAGES INSERTED IN THIS VOLUME BE- 
 TWEEN FOLIOS 164 AND 173, AND BETWEEN 
 FOLIOS 188 AND 207 ARE PHOTOLITHOGRAPHIC 
 REPRODUCTIONS MADE DIRECT FROM THE ORIG- 
 INAL PAGES AS ISSUED BY PAYNE IN 1805-1806 
 
N». XIV. 
 
 THE 
 
 ^fftspim Mivvcx. 
 
 SATUEDAYy MAY 51, 1806. 
 
 * If we offend, it is with our goodwill. 
 
 * That you should think we come not toofFcnd* 
 
 * But with goed will „ 
 
 It was the purpose of the Editor after the distribution of the 
 last number of the Thespian Mirror, to have dismissed the work 
 with some editorial remarks, an index, and title page for the use 
 of such subscribers as considered the numbers worthy preserva- 
 tion ; but in the execution of the plan, finding that the design ex- 
 ceeded its limits, he has been compelled to add another to the se- 
 ries, accompanied by the promised documents. 
 
 His first wish is to express his gratitude for the liberal patron- 
 age with which the publication has been honoured, and at the same 
 time to declare hisregret that it was pot more worthy, that patron- 
 age. Other avocations, and other engagements pre-occupit- d his 
 attention; and what little intervals of time he was enabled to devote 
 to itjwere moments occasionally stolen from the duties of his em- 
 ployment. He was often obliged to watch the glimmerings of the 
 midnight taper, and pen his lucubrations in hours usually devo- 
 ted to repose. His work was undertaken to beguile the fatigues 
 of an unple^ng pursuit — ^it was composed amidst the pressures of 
 business — ^it was found that ^he contemplated /Ja«?mf encreased 
 cares, encreased labours — it was then too late to abandon the pro- 
 ject — the unassisted eiforts of a youth who wrote under these nu- 
 merous disadvantages were giver* to the worJd in a crude, imper- 
 Vol. I. My. 14. 
 
 Mi 
 
NO THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 feet, and unfinished state — criticism caught their errors — the pub- 
 lic were disappointed — the editor cotuieTnned.* 
 
 The nature othis situation rendered personal enemies indispen- 
 sable. The mistaken idea that criticism cannot be divested of per- 
 sonalties has always an uofliie weight in the green room. It is 
 believed that the censor, wlioever he be, is influenced by private 
 rancour. It is not understood that a performer Jitands with the 
 public in two views : as a man and as an actor. VVith the char- 
 acter of the former the public has no connection ; Tlic latter is 
 ever liable tn investigation. 
 
 »« AUcommon exhibitions open lie, 
 
 •« For praise, or censure to the common eye ; 
 
 *« To clap, or hiss all have an equal claim, 
 
 ** The cobler ajid his lordship's right the same." 
 
 When so flatteringly introduced to public notice, he was conn- 
 
 * The editor felt some: hesitancy in giving publicity to thefbllowing. If it 
 »avour ton much or egotism, ( ^vhirh wc feared) we ask the indulgence of our 
 readers toward arelaiion of facts, which weconceivedinanianiierdue to the 
 public, and to ourselves. 
 
 The projection of the Mirror, may be classed among' tJiose juvenile inad- 
 vertencies, apparent to a greater, or less deg-ree in all. Every ag'e has its fol- 
 lies, ajid those of youth, and extreme old ag-e, or second childhood are most 
 prolific of them. The editorof liiis work who had always discovered an in- 
 clination for theatrical amusements, was placed by his parents in an high- 
 \y respectable mercantile house in this city, where, for the suppression of 
 that growing' taste, he w3.s denied access to the theatre. Dephvedof his favor- 
 ite amusement, he had recourse to his pen. 
 
 Without communicating' his plan, he composed a prospectus forthe * Pas- 
 time,' intendedforthepevUsafonlyofyouth After .some reflection, considering^ 
 the number of papers called ' literary,' in existence, the ideaof a dulncss of pa- 
 ii-onage sii^-^r-stin^ itself, something- new, and som.etliing striking^ was neces- 
 sary, « to take. Believing: the habits of the citizens ofthispface, better calcu- 
 lated to encourage a work, more intiniatelyconnected with theprevailin{i:thirst 
 for pleasure^ he had recourse to his favourite topic, and sti'uck the plan of 
 the «Tl>espian Mm-or ' He had precuniary supplies which enabled liim to 
 enter upon the work; the printers ware applibdto ; and from the moment 
 of'thehrst projection, to that of publication, was three days : a space more 
 inconsiderable when recollected that the only time at bis commanxl, Avas be- 
 fore 8 in the morning-, and after 8 in the evening'. Three yotmjj gentlemen, 
 (i.vro of them fellow clerks in the store) were entnisted with the secret. It 
 was issued ; and as the. criticisms were composed on the assurattces of per- 
 sons Immediattly mterestetl in the stag-e, an unfortuniite mistake occurrect 
 m commending- Mr. Hallam senr. forthe penormanre of Thorowgood, which 
 on account of his indisposition was read by Mr Ehapter. Aft?r the num- 
 ber was Lssued, a few subscribers appeared, and such commendatory notice 
 WHS taken of it in the American Citizens as encouraged the editor to pro- 
 ceed. During the same week, a note appeared in the Evening Post apolo- 
 gising for the deby of ♦ Crilicas or, the Thespian Mi'fiX)r.' The -nameof Gvit 
 
THESPIAN MIRROR. Ill 
 
 t^L-nt that ill nature would loose her tongue, and level her shafts at 
 one, wl.o has the vanity to believe himself superiour to her frowns. 
 On tlie other hand, not conbidtiinj.; himself wholly deserving of 
 the approbatory testimonies he has received, he can only regret 
 his inability to realise public exptctatious. f'or the kindness of 
 his friends, he feels himself greatly indebted ; to his enemies he 
 wish'js better employment ; and to the performers, that they may 
 reap the benefit of their exertions, in a Howing bumper, and a hea- 
 vy purse. 
 
 icus itsrtltd him...,and with fear, and trembling, he hurried to the countitig- 
 room, and penned the following- note to Mr. Coleman. 
 
 ' The ediloi- of the Thespian Mirror, having- observed a note intt)« Post 
 of this evenini^, promising- some remarks on his -work, would take the liberty 
 of askini^ Mr. Coleman, whether tliey are or ar-e not in favour of the publi- 
 cation ? lie makes this request, which may appear singular, on account fjf 
 some inaccuracies wiiich crept into the first number, ihroug-h entii-e acci- 
 dent : and which, though by the community, they might psss unnoticed 
 wotild not probabl>' escape the attention of a Cnticui. He would furtherobserve 
 that thoug-h his extreme youth, (being under the ag-e of 14) mig-ht, in the 
 eyes of many, be considered sufficient to deter him l>om an undertaking" of 
 such magT.itude, it wus commenced with a laudable design, and, (as some 
 ajjolog^y tor its errors) "was an unassisted attempt,' 
 
 HIS ANSWER WAS AS FOLLOWS. 
 
 • Mr. Coleman is sorry to be compelled to ans wcr tlie editor of the Tlies- 
 pian Mirror, in amwnr.er ojipleasant to him ; but lie has to inform him, that 
 the renuirks oit the Thespian Mirror, are unfavourohle ; and he will iu can- 
 dour add, that Criticus was detained, that his remarks might be Btill fur- 
 ther extended and enforced by himself, and at the same time that proper 
 and approbatory notice might be taken by him, in the same article, of the 
 Theatrical Censor, of Philadelohia, a work of unusual merit.' 
 
 ' The note of the editor of the Thespian Mirr.oj-, mentioning the extreme 
 youth of the wtiier, must disarm him of severity .- and he -would be glad to 
 see the juvenile autlior at his house, to talte tea with "him this evening. No. 30 
 Hudson-street. Perhaps the visit ma/ not be unserviceable to thir youne, 
 gentleman in his future progress.' 
 
 Detained by counting room avocations tillpajst 8, the editor did not see Mr. 
 C till the next morning-. He then observed that the principal defect of the 
 Mirror was indiscriminate prais-e, and that the essay of Criticus wag chiefly 
 aimed at that fault, of which he had adduced some specimens. He recom- 
 mended the suspension of the work, and that addressing himself to the 
 public, he should declare his inabiJitv to continue it« editorial dutiei. - 
 Prompted perhaps, by vanity, the proposal was declined, and Mr, C. volun- 
 teered his services in favour of the undertaking. These he- then gave, &hd for 
 that' assistance has every acknowledgement to which his kindness is so just- 
 ly entitled. After the publicjition of Mr. Coleman's remarks on the Mirror, 
 the situation of the new editor thus became known to his parents, and the 
 {gentleman under whose care he was placed. After his circumstancei were 
 understood, several friends exerted their influence in his behalf; and now 
 detached frmn toe labours of a mercantile lii'e, he is situated within the 
 reach of all the pleasures -and all the advantages of literature. 
 
 . ^^ - _^ ^ ... ^. . ->.. .^^=....:...:^ a^. .^,....:^, ^.i— j-iB^i 
 
112 THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 Cbeatn'cal Eemailts, 
 
 , 'Tnith, tlio' RQnietimes clad 
 
 » In p'liuful lustre, yet is alwavss •welcome : 
 
 ' Dnar as the li^'lit that shows the lurking- roct . 
 
 * *Tis the fidr stai-, that no er into the nviln 
 
 * Descending-, leads us safe tliro" stornr.y hte.' 
 
 We have been 'cudgelling' our ' dull pates' for an houi:, !ro ekt 
 out some Striking exordium to these our remarks on the ladies 
 and gentlemen of the sock and buskin : but in vain. ...the ' spirit' 
 was obstinate, and did not ' move'.... w^ords were sulky, and would 
 not come forth : oUr pen, dull as our wit, was old and pointless, and 
 we are compelled to bring 
 
 MR. COOPER 
 to the bar of criticism, without giving notice of trial. We should 
 not be astonished, should the court ring with applause at his ent- 
 rance, or the judge want firmness to pronounce the sentence on hii 
 errors. But we really believe that Mr. Cooper's vicious habits are 
 not so deeply rooted- as to be out of the cognizance of time and ex- 
 perience. He is peculiarly the favorite of nature, and almost inva- 
 riably follows her dictates. His faults have so often been canvass- 
 edj that little or nothing is left for the critic, but to complain in the 
 hackneyed strain of hh rant ; of his want of application ; and of the 
 inequality of his acting. Far be it from us to contradict either of 
 these charges" ; we cannot disprove them. ' Every man to his 
 taste,' says tlie proverb i and every man who has seen Cooper, (we' 
 should say admired^ for we should be Inclined to censure the tat.te 
 of any one who has seen, without admiring him) is peculiarly dispos- 
 ed to rest his applause on some one of his characters. For ourselves, 
 t'^ough we aspire not to the honour of manhood, our taste iti greatly 
 in favour of his Othello, and hext to that his Iia?nlet. But a new star 
 in the constellation of his excellencies, has made its appearance.... 
 .Re-ucrly: and in splendour asd mas^nificencejitbids fair to rival and to 
 eclipse the rest. Much has been said of the comparative merits of 
 Mr. Cooper and Mr. Kemble, and many contratlictory opinions 
 have been suggested. ...but we have seen nothing which we believed 
 from ou»' best dSiUrances, more perfectly just, than the foUowinsj, 
 
THESPIAN MIRROR 113 
 
 by that friendly guardian to the stage, the TAeatrical Cmevr. ' It is 
 not our iiitervlion to institute any comparison bel.^s een Mr. C. and 
 the classic performer of Covent Garden Theatre. Mr. C's. merits 
 are derived from nature and cultivation, and arc not mimic. If 
 we mention his name in company, with that of Mr. Kemble, it shall 
 only be to observe, that if the latter be the greater, the former is, in 
 our judgment, the more pleasing of the tM'o.' Jfifirohaticn from 
 Cir Hubert Stanlty^ is praise indeed. 
 
 * Whatever passions g^all the hum.an breast, 
 
 ' Play in thy features or await thy nod, 
 ' In thee, by art, the demon stands confest, 
 
 ' But nature on thy soul has stamp'd the God. 
 
 Next to !\Ir. Cooper, fame has awarded a laurel to Mr. Fennel. 
 This gentleman possesse3,over many of his ftUow actors, tht- singu- 
 lar superiority of a well cultivated mind : but according to the old 
 adage, it is only ' robbing Peter to pay Paul,' for with all the ad- 
 vantages of literature, he cannot creep into an empty corner of the 
 soul. The ladies will not weep, the gentlemen will not cry ' bravo T 
 We believe Mr. Fennel to be a gentleman, a scholar, and an orator, 
 but as to acting, his is too laboured to be pronounced excellent. ...too 
 greai to be called bad. It has a certain false fulnes-s, tjic appear- 
 ance cf a certain completeness, which often satisfies an audience, 
 wbile it is yet far below perfection,* and far above mediocrity. 
 
 Our comical f'-iends, Harwood, Jefferson, Twaits.t and Hogg, 
 arc conjointly arraigned to receive sentence. But no sooner do 
 they appear at the bar, than a natural association of ideas, robs the 
 judge of his steady phiz, and convulses the courfwith laughter.... 
 Momus descends., crowns his favourites with tne wreath of fame : 
 awards to thorn a throne in the temple of Mirth....and wafts them 
 to regions where uncontrouled reign, 
 
 * Sport, that wrinkled care derides, 
 ' And laughter nolding' both his sides.' 
 
 Theatrical Censor, p 120. 
 f A severe aothniatic affection has deprived Mr. Twajts,- sincehis arrival 
 inthisciL/, of the us*^ of his bed. Consequently, linder such a pressure of 
 bodily afRiction, no competent judgment can be formed of his powers! As 
 
 acomic singer he ha;?, wft presun^e,,m> superior on the American stage 
 
 'His range of 4ctJon is the<iuered by many excellencies, which seen sepei-ate- 
 ly, charm by their appropristion.* 
 
I lA THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 Mr. Young is a gentleman of improving abilities, &nd e'5tima'3le 
 talents. Ke ])osscssl"3 a i^ood person, l)Ut a I)ad carriage. When he 
 v.-alk-^, he ^teps iiks an automaton. When he spcakS; the drci\vliii|r 
 monotone ot his. utterance, exercises equally our patieiice and our 
 e£r». When he gesticuhites, liis whole botly is in i-notion wiili his 
 hai:d. In threateninf^, he shakes hi;> list, as irto invite a pugilistic 
 encounter : at llie samti lilne casting his eyes alternately to his feet, 
 and to the audience. In comedy he is addicted to the vulgar prat- 
 licc of kickini^: his heels, and snupping his liiv^jers. His merits arci 
 however, prominent. He speaks with life, -with feeling, with discri- 
 mination. His orthoepy rnay be materially corrected : and we re- 
 commend L'> him t!ie ptrusrJ of Sheridan's Lectures on Eloc\!tion, 
 where he will find souie inj;(ro\ lug hintr This able writer remarks 
 that by alterinj^ the sound of the a, and e, much more might be 
 done to elTect a cure fur the provincial disease, than is apparent ... 
 riius for arrarA-, \va say errors — for abasement, we say nb.'/seuient : 
 cdmpressin?^ the sound of the a, instead of making it ah. Wc are 
 told Mr. Y. complains of our want of lenity. ...We confess we have 
 been rather severe, but not unjust to Mr. Young ; and it was rather 
 to sec talents suscej)tible as his, strengthened, cultivated, and ma- 
 tilred, than from any personal dislike or private resentment. 
 
 Mr. i^Iartin is an useful performer. lie seldom sinks below 
 mediocrity ; often rises to excellence. His range of acting is exten- 
 sive. " In short, as a great author says, he is up to every thing." 
 
 The Hallam family has the nierit ofus.fuhieas. Mr. H .sen. has 
 beena faithful sevvanttothestage,fornearly half a century. Young 
 Hallam, as he is called, has trodden the boards in this city so long, 
 that the publxc would scarcely know how to do without him. If he 
 would move less in circles, and sometimes stretch and straiten his 
 ai*ms, we confess that we believe it would cxhilirate his body, And 
 g|ve himself and the public uncommonly pic isurable sensations. 
 
 Mr. Shaf»ter.has a remarkably good bass vo'ce ; and possesses 
 musical skill. He is no actor. The abilities of Mr. Roljii»^on are 
 not inconsiderable. Were he possessed of more fire, he might 
 aspire to a morg exalted sphere. 'I'hc path of eminence is open to 
 him. 
 
 Our spirits begin to llag at the undertaking we Jiave coujmen- 
 ced We find criticism on our performers, with a fcv/ cxceplioiis, 
 a ' stale, flat nnd unprofitable' taak. But it is too late to retrench j 
 
THESVIAN MIRROR. 115 
 
 the * printers devil' at our elbow, calls aloud for the manuscript , 
 and after paying a tribute of respect to two g-cntkman ot" distin- 
 guished worth, deserving actors, and exceiknt iKanagers, ( Messr:;. 
 Tyler and Johnson) Ave proceed to notice u constt^Huticn of female 
 merit, of which Mrs. Johnson is a stai- of the first niagniiudc. A 
 distinguished favouriteis Mrs. Jones-; hcr's are the co!>jo!nt:(! ciaiir.s 
 of an injured, a deserted wife, and an unrivalled actress. *■ S/ie is 
 as firetty a x-iHu^-c lasa as c-uc-r Tan upon the grecji. ai-^ard.' Her mu- 
 sical powers arc super-eminent. She is alike the sentimental giri; 
 the country minx, the pettish boy, and the elegiint wonum. Where- 
 I'ever she h, she is distincjuished : in whatever she assumes, she is 
 exquibile. 
 
 Mrs. Viiliers has merit. Mrs. Barret possesses great powers 
 and she generally appears desirous to give satisfaction. But ' her 
 humour is [too much] for a tyrant, or a part to tear a cat in, tt* 
 maJce all split.' We reiterate what we have again and again repeat- 
 ed, that she should sometimes descend from the elevation of the 
 sublime, to the simplicity, the modealij of nature^ acd *- speak in a 
 monstrous little voice.' 
 
 Cljeatrual g^craps. 
 
 Morton's clcg'.'int coincciy of the • School of"Ref«)rn),' lias been acted se- 
 vcnil times in tJiis city, with g';neral approbation. It received its prliicip:*! 
 support from thehoneyt," liomcly, Tarragono^yiv. H:iruood, andfrviin Hogjj's 
 * outcast of virtue,' Robert Tyke. Tlie texture of the play lias nothing^ fiimsy 
 or estxavagant about it. The character of Tyke is calculated deeply to in- 
 terest tlic heart, -vviiilc it con\ eys u most stvikintj ajid imj)ortant m(!i-al. 
 
 Mr. Twuits made ^ ulebut in Ricliard III, and waa well received. His 
 performance was curious and novel, but not calculated to interest or to strike. 
 With Mr. Cooper's ])oweis, and hi.'i own conception, the personation could 
 not liave been surpassed. 
 
 Master Barret has twice attempted tlie part of Young- Norval his second 
 
 was liir better than his tii-st es.say. We canntjt say that tlie perf ;rmance 
 either interested om* feeling-s, or wrougiit upon our sensibility but it i^ave 
 proof of talents, v. hich enlarg-ed and cultivated, projr.iae wcU for future ex- 
 cellence. 
 
 Mr. Youn^ gui'e an earnest of promisint^ powers, in the .Strangfer. per 
 
 "'^^'■*>'*~°-*^— ^"-"^^--^ 
 
116 THESPiAN MIRROR. 
 
 formed at his own benefit. We confess that we went rather from curiosity, 
 tkan any other cause. We were, however, agreeably dis:ippointtd. « My 
 son Peter,' was comJcalJy sustained by a noviciate. 
 
 We have been ^eatly pleased with the eldest Miss Hodgkmson'd penbr 
 lYianoe of Tom Thumb. She possesses all the g-enius of her fatJier, <-.haste!i 
 od by tOL sweetness ofher motner. 
 
 < 'Twas a chylde that .soe divide thryv^e, 
 
 ♦ In grace and feature, 
 
 < Thatte heav'n and nature scem'dtostryve, 
 
 ♦ Whicli OMTi'd the creature.' 
 
 Being- present at the representation of « A Cure; for the Heart Ache, we 
 cannot witlihold a tribute of applause, from Messrs. lI:u-wood and Twarts, 
 for Iheii- exeellence in Young' Rapid and Frank .Oatland. 
 
 We learn with pleasure, that the dramatic works of Mr. Dunlap, are 
 nearly ready for deliveiy. In a cause so interesting- to American literature, 
 and to the Aifterican stage, it is to-behopedpatronag-e will not slumber. If 
 foreig;'. plays are printed, .sold, and re-printed in America, w^bere is patrio- 
 tism, that the exertions'of native gpnius are discountenanced, and di- coiu-ag- 
 ed ? Where sleeps the public spirit, which gives the literature of its coun- 
 try to lumber the shelves of the bookseller I And why is native gemus al- 
 lowed to waste itself in obscui-ity, when editions of foreign publications arc- 
 multiplied in our cities ? ' From the situation of Mr. Dunlap', s.ijs the ele- 
 gant editor of the Port Folio, ' as a man of letters, a man of misfortunes, and 
 one of the earliest votaries of the dramatic muse in America, his works not 
 only solicit, but deserve the regard of all who value tliemselvcs, upon th&ii- 
 zeal for the productions of domestic literature.' 
 
 READINGS AND RECITATIONS. 
 
 MR. FENNEL. 
 
 < Tit for Tat' the public seemed to say to Mr. Fennel : and perhaps hi£ 
 
 ill success, is, in some manner attributable to aspiritof retaliation, on the party 
 formed in Piiiladelphia, to svq:qx)rt Mr. F's. efforts in this line, to the deser- 
 tion of Mr. Cooper at the theatre. We attended his last, when we wei* 
 presented witli some ah'e specimens of elocution. The receipts on both 
 occosiojis, did not much, exceed fifteen dojlars, 
 
 MRS. HAMltiTOK. 
 
 The opinions wMch we had heaj''d of Mrs. Hamilton were so contradic- 
 tory, that, determining to satisfy ourselves of her claims to patronage, we at- 
 tcnd'^d tiie two Irist of her eihibitions, that of Saturday, and. that of Tuesday 
 
THESPIAN MIRROR. 1 17 
 
 e\enin£r- Soirte declared her recitations very g'Cod ; othei's gave out that 
 ihey were very bad — some too, asserted that she rivalled Mrs. SidcVrjns, others, 
 that slie imitated Mrs. Barret ! On the first occasioti ol" oiir attoidance we 
 went to be pleased ; on the second, like fuU'gro'.vn alttcs, w^e attended to 
 find fault. Altlioughit may soem somewhat paradoxical, we v.^ere not grati. 
 fied on the former occasion ; on the latter we saw little wuicli wc could not 
 commend ; but so intent were we on the object of our visit, diat we &ieze<l 
 every « looj) hole, on which we could re.st an error : (vnd here prejent tliero in 
 propria persona, « to plague 1h' inventor.' In t.'iO lii'btplttce, we ai'c nnich dis- 
 posed to censure the lady's cmpliasis, in refldiiig and reciting verse : ^he has 
 to:; much of what we g-entlemen cf thr- quill dig-nify iiy tlic name oWar.t: with 
 a fault of the old school in emphasising inconsiderable ^vojxis, and lavinj^ a 
 6ti-e.ss upon the poetical syliahle, as thus .• 
 
 'He in his bridal TRiMSOgaVj 
 
 • She in her winding- sheet.' Lucy & Colin 
 
 Nor skall her interpolation-^ e scajie ihe lasli oi" our severity ; Mrs. H. reads 
 in Sterne's Picture of Slavery, 
 « Source hiexhaustible of all our plrasurcs, said I addressing '>ny^e!f to Liberty^ 
 
 This appears sometliing iik.". what the cntics rail bathos. We i).ive ano- 
 ther lnr''ta.TiC£ of ti^e same kind after Sempronius terminates his speech lor 
 wilP , Mrs H. makes him to say, 
 
 * Cato, now once ag-ain let's hear you speaK.' 
 
 Tliif reminds us of a pnppetshew exhibition, in nhlch ?^?r. PnncI' is inadc 
 to teD lais wife : 
 
 «• Come Dolly, new speak you." 
 
 They tvere both probably jtiterded fu- tUc- .sa^ne parpo.se — vo itirarm tlie 
 audience who is lalking, and to be sure it is a very dtsirabie etd; but fcr 
 citTJelves, we should probably liave said sovnetliinigtf' this purpose .- 
 
 * Sempvonius havir^ spoken, Cato rises, and exhorts him to moderation,' 
 
 But w^e wish not that Mrs. Hamilton .shonid disci -aa our charity we have' 
 
 a spark of csridoiir — a spark of galjamtry— and a spi-ji^k (we hope'; of taste • 
 and so, ujjon the whole, ^e may consider iis as a KpajHsh editor. Bnt witli- 
 out any of t))ese requisites, justice alone would ct-mpel Us tf> pronounce a pan- 
 egyi-ic on her merit. Wc ^ve Ivev err^>is a front serf, tlmt hex- joerits may 
 overlook them. Her Lncyaiul Ck)l!n ; Rolla'rj Address ( Ehira's SuUloquy ; 
 and the Rebel : we consider instances u>f a superlour tastf. and refined ex- 
 ecution : but Mrs H. must excuse onr n'iinknessindeciJvri.ng-that we beiievc 
 the * Ode ontlie Passions,' her mostindifferent attempt. Time and room, two 
 gentle foUcs whom we have always to cousultin our editorial lahiJui-fc; have j e- 
 pep.tedly warned us, but now iimut, that we sliould be silent : and therefore 
 if anyone wishes a proof .-.f Mrs. Humiitons merit, be tiie patron-ip-e ofadis, 
 ting-uLshed farafjy of this city, who wiuid never esiend tlieii- inSucnce to a 
 worthless object, tlie test of her excellence. 
 
 B 
 
118 THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 ' Variety is charming, 
 
 ' Constancy is not for me ; 
 * So ladies, you have warning.' 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 beauty's value. 
 Stated to have been prt)ttedfmn a corrected manuscnfit, and originally 'Mriffen by 
 
 Skaispeare. 
 
 See Gent. Mag-, .for Oct 1 7.^G 
 Beauty is but avaMi and fleeting good, 
 
 A shining g'loss thr.t fadeth suddenl} , 
 A flow'rthat dies when almost in the bud, 
 A brittle glass that breaketh presently : 
 A fleeting gt^'d, a gloss, a glass, a flow'r. 
 Lost, faded, broken, dead, within an hour. 
 As goods when lost are wond'i-ous seldom found, 
 
 As faded gloss no rubbing can excite. 
 As flowers when dead are trampled on the ground, 
 
 As broken glass no cement can unite ; 
 So beauty blemish'd once is ever lost. 
 In spite of piiysic, painting, pains, and cost. 
 
 QUAINT TITLES. 
 
 The prevailing rage tc catch the public ear by some specious or 
 surprising m/<?, has rendered many authors as ridicuicus, innaiit- 
 ing their works, as quucks or mountebanks. We have been pes- 
 tered with ' Mysteries elucidated' — ' Mystery of Mysteries' — My 
 Uncle Thomas' — ' Out at last' — ' Man as he is not' — ' \Voman. as 
 she should be :' and many things which should not bt. Among 
 others * St. Godwin, by St. Leon' — on which an irritated iv9.g was 
 revenged by exhibiting at the side of it * St. Devils by Satan.' 
 
 But novelists are not alone in this prostitution of literature. In 
 professional knowledge there is practised a kind of swindling, equal- 
 led only by that political swindling, which has helped many a jockey 
 in to office, in a certain somewhere this side of the moon. ' Every 
 man his own lawyer^' and ' Every man his oiim doctcvy and titles, 
 by which scribblers induce the unlettered to buy their viie trash. 
 We expect the next new cdtch'fienny production will be some law/e 
 dissertation, with the equally consistent and pretty title of ' Every 
 manhia cwn toifr.' Troy Gaz. 
 
THESPIAN MIRROR il9 
 
 Tht foUoviing u a translation of a letter prctenied by a heathen •histonan. It h 
 an important document among the extraneous proofs cfthe 
 real existence of our J^lessed Redeemer. 
 An Epistle to the Senate of Rome, in the davs sf Tiberius Caesar, conceminr 
 Jescs Ckrist, by Pubiius Lentilus, an officer of high rank in the Roman 
 amiy, then in Judea, and the only person of that nation, who sent anv ac- 
 count to Rome of so ^xtraordiniiry an event, as -mentioned bj V. Paterculu*. 
 There appeared in these our days a man of great virtue, named Jesus 
 Christ, who is yet living' amongst us, and of the gentiles is accepted for a 
 prophet of truth, but his own disciples call him the Soji of God. He raiseth 
 the dead, and curcth aU manner of diseases. A man of stature, somewhat tall 
 and comely, with a very reverend countenance, suah as the beholder-s may 
 b©th fear and love : liis hair is of the colour of tlie tilbert, full ripe, and plain 
 almost down to his ears, but from his ears dovmwartl, somewhat curled, and 
 more orient of coloiu-, waving al>out his should^ rs . In the. midst of his liead 
 goeth a seam or partition, after the manner of tlie Nazarites ; his forehead 
 •<cvy plain and smooth ; his face witliout spot or •WTinkle, beautified with a 
 comely red ; his nose and mouth so formed as notliing can be reprehended ; 
 his beard somewhat thick, ag-reeable in colour to the nair of his head, not of 
 any great length, but forked in the midst ; of an nnocent and mature look ; 
 his eyes clear and quick- in reproving he is terrible j in adiiienishing, couil- 
 rous and fair spoken ; pleasant in speech mixed \j'tli gravity. It cannot be 
 remembered that any have seen hirn laugh, but many have seen him weep. 
 In proportion of body, well-shaped and straight, his hands delectable to be- 
 hold. In speaking, very temperate, modest and mse. A. man for his sin- 
 gular beauty, surpassing the childi-en of men. 
 
 7!4<? foUf/mng is said to have been the production of Shakespeape.... Jt. is /«. 
 
 scribed on on the fat stone covering his gruvfi, in the church at 
 
 Stratford. It is cut, spelt, and arranged, as published. 
 
 Good Frend for lesus SAKE forbeare 
 To dicG T-E Dust EncloAsed HERe 
 
 T 
 
 J31esebeT-E Man y spares T-Es Stones 
 And curst be He "L moves my Bones. 
 
 J KDtt describing the universal empire of love, dttJly describes its onaet cmicng 
 the famy race. 
 
 i ,.>..> • Love assails 
 
 ' And waims, 'nud &ea»<)f ice, the melting whale.^. 
 « Cools crimped cod, <«rce paiigs to perch imparts, 
 • Shrinks shrivelled shrimps, suid opens oyster's heai-ts.* 
 
130 THESPIAN MIRROR. 
 
 For the Thespian Mirrw. 
 
 ARIOSO. 
 
 Let others chaunt, let others praisa. 
 In mtlttug strains....in>pa9sion'd lays. 
 
 Their Daphne's Penseroso'a : 
 
 In rustic numbers I will sin^, 
 
 That heav'n in smiles, tliat beauteous spring. 
 
 Which beams in Arioso. 
 
 While Cupid's laughing in her eyes, 
 The soft, unguarded heart surprise. 
 
 Before their arrows felt : 
 The tender sxiflPrer 'tempts in vain. 
 To ease his care, relieve his pain. 
 
 He. niust in angTiish melt ! 
 
 O ! for < a muse of fiie' to tell, 
 
 Hoyr virtue, worth, and sweetness dwell, 
 
 Comfam'diB An to sot 
 To speak the beauties of liiat mien, 
 
 Whert: * loose a Goddess moves a Queen,' 
 
 >.t._..Of sweetest Arioso \ 
 
 A WRiXBuin a late PoHfolio gives the following reading to tlus passag-e 
 <Sf Cato's Soi.ix.O(y;Y } 
 
 *?"?,? the divinity that stirs taithin ut, 
 
 •Tis Heaven itstlf, that points out an hereafter, 
 
 jinfi intitiiates eternity to man. 
 
 Ws have here, not two propositions, but one It is not that, « 'li^the di- 
 Vi>iit7 <:bat stirs withtJi im,' and * Heav'n itself, th».t potnts out an hereafter ;' 
 but, that ' 'tis the divihity-that-stirs-witlun-us— 'tis Heaven itself— that points 
 out an hereafter :' the « diw.:ty tliat stirs within us,' is not more than Ad- 
 dison' 3 parapln-ase of the Platonic exiwesslon, the god within the inind. It 
 may be ofase'. v,-iL that, by the help of tlie second term, « 'tis Hea\-*n itself,' 
 Addison n.odemi-es the sentiment, uniting the doctrines of Plato with our 
 own; and T.biM> rendering the languag-e, appropriate to the mouth of Goto, 
 agreeab:.!i aito to the ears oF& Christian audience. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
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