1830.] George Colman's Random Records. 303 



son of the Earl of Bath, and cast off by him for preferring the drama 

 to Parliament and politics. 



Young Colman's first perception of human cares was, like that of the 

 rest of the world, his going to school ; his remembrances show the 

 fierce vividness of the miseries that brand that period on the back and 

 brains of the rising generation. He was sent to the Mary-le-bone 

 Academy, then kept by Doctor Fountain, " a worthy, good-natured 

 dominie, in a bush- wig/' whom this inveterate punster calls " princi- 

 pium et Jons." His wife's head, however, seems to have attracted the 

 chief notice, as may be discovered from his laborious account of et the 

 messuage or tenement of hair, upon the ground-plot of her peri- 

 cranium." 



' ( A towering toupee pulled up, all but by the roots, and strained 

 over a cushion on the top of her head, formed the centre of the building, 

 tiers of curls served for the wings, a hanging chignon behind defended 

 her occiput like a buttress, and the whole fabric was kept tight and 

 weather-proof, as with nails and iron cramps, by a quantity of long 

 single and double black pins." 



The experience of a dramatist is worth recording, if it were for 

 nothing but its warning to all those who, gifted with the power of play- 

 making, or thinking that they have the gift, (which, for the purposes of 

 their ruin, is much the same,) embark on the troubled waters of the 

 stage. Let us hear the most popular dramatist of his time : or, if we 

 are to estimate popularity by the continuance and repetition of successes, 

 perhaps the most popular dramatist of England since Shakspeare. Con- 

 greve had but three successful plays. Wycherley perhaps no more. 

 Sheridan but three, and the Critic ; while Colman has gone on for years 

 in a perpetual production of comedies, all popular, and some likely to 

 survive his generation. 



" Few avocations/.' says this man of success, " are, in my present 

 opinion, less eligible than that of the drama ; but it caught my fancy 

 when a boy, for I began not long after nineteen. At first, the very act of 

 scribbling gave me pleasure. But the novelty of the thing wore off, and 

 soon after my amusement became my profession. I felt the irksome- 

 ness of every task, and contemplated probable vexation in the event of 

 it. When you are labouring for fame, or profit, or for both, and think 

 all the while you are at work, that instead of obtaining either, you may 

 be d m d, it is not pleasant ! Nor is it agreeable to reflect, that a 

 handful of blockheads may, in half an hour, consign, first to disgrace, 

 and then to oblivion, your toil of half a year ; nay, that your own foot- 

 man, who is one of what is called the " Town," can, by paying a shil- 

 ling, hoot at your new comedy from beginning to end; and, having 

 broken your night's rest, your judge in the upper gallery goes to sleep 

 in your garret. 



<f But these considerations apart, I verily think that the wear and tear 

 upon the nerves, occasioned by dramatic composition, may deduct some 

 years from a man's life. It has been my habit, I know not why, except 

 that the muse is more propitious after dinner, to write chiefly late at 

 night; and when I have grown heated with my subject, it has so chilled 

 my limbs, that I have gone to bed as if I had been sitting up to my 

 knees in ice." 



Of the wonderful facility with which some aspirants have rode their 



