fusiliers made our ground good at the breast-work that we had deprived them of. I could perceive upon the right of our battalion, the second battalion of guards fired by platoons, and behaved incomparably well. Neither were the French deficient in their attack, but both sides behaved to admiration; therefore we said one to another, the guards are endeavouring to gain their honour. The reason of that saying was, old soldiers had used to call them Vain's army; because they were always used to fine service, and never to suffer the hardships that others are subject to. But what I disliked them for was, the moment they had gone through their battalion with their platoon firing, they behaved themselves like blackguards, by plundering their own dead, and pulling them about before they were cold or quite dead. So that my bowels yearned for their cruelty. Thus I found they fought for gain; and I am afraid there are too many of that stamp.

"The next attack, we could distinguish that there were some misunderstandings among the French, which rose to great disputes, and all through a froward commander. While they were a jarring, our brave commander, Sir Richard Temple, made up to them, in order to learn the difference that subsisted between them, and by so doing he disranked them; and ended all disputes by a volley of fire-arms, that rendered a great number of them insensible of knowing what had past. Then they returned our volley with great success. I may say it, for my right and left hand man were shot dead, and in falling had almost thrown me down, for I could scarce prevent my falling among the dead men. Then I said to the second rank, come, my boys, make good the front. With that they drew up. Then I said, never fear, we shall have better luck the next throw. But I just saved my word, for my right hand man was shot through the head, and the man that followed me was shot through the groin, and I escaped all, though nothing but the providence of God could protect me. Then our rear man was called up to be a front; but the poor man was struck with a panic, fearing that he should share the same fate as the others did. He endeavoured to half cover himself behind me, but I put my hand behind me and pulled him up, and told him, that I could no ways skreen him, for he was sensible a man behind me was shot. By strong persuasion I prevailed upon him, so that he was not in the least daunted, but stood it out as bold as a lion. We received a great many volleys after that, and one time I remember it wounded my captain and took my left hand man, and almost swept off those that were on my right, so that it left the man that was intimidated and myself alone. Then I said, come, partner, there is nothing like having good courage. So we filled up our ranks in a regular form, and when we had so done, we fired upon them briskly and with great success: for they were repulsed, and almost afraid to face us any more, after our sharp firing, but were glad to retreat, and fall back as fast as they could. Then we cast our eyes to the left, and could perceive a breastwork: I could distinguish that the French were lining it with all the expedition imaginable. Upon that I had some conference with my colonel, and told him that without great care we should be flanked. He was a man of a polite genius, and I could observe that he had a

great deal of conduct to guide his actions, which was a great addition to his profession, especially at that juncture where thousands of lives were depending. After our noble colonel had heard my discourse, he called to Sir Richard Temple, and said that his battalion would be flanked. He replied, no, go on yet, colonel, for there is an absolute necessity for it. We were eager to go on, for we desired to be expeditious in our attack. With that the colonel called to Sir Richard again, and said, if he must go on, he would go on. Then the aidde-camp came, and said, go on, but the colonel spoke first, and said, wheel to the left of the battalion. Those words we observed, and as swift as thought we ran upon their breast-works with a huzza, and gave them a warm fire, which made them tumble one over another. At the same time, the Welsh fusiliers being upon the right of them, flanked them with a kind salute, which jammed them together in their breast-works. So we did not give them time to plunder their dead, neither did they approve of it, lest we should increase their number of corps. I would not have you think the French were idle, for as our battalion was running upon the breast-works, they fired upon us and killed a great number, though inferior to their own. Then we had orders to wheel to the right. Had we not, the French horse would certainly have fallen upon our rear. This happened at the ground where we first made our attack. But when we faced them, they backed their horses as fast as they could, and we advanced and retreated in the front of them for a considerable time, till they opened to the right and left. Then they advanced forward. With that we fell back a little and made a halt. Our commander, Sir Richard Temple, was very active, and showed a great deal of ingenuity at that juncture. I could perceive it by the orders. Our colonel ordered the drum to beat a march; accordingly they did, though our marching was very slow; but we lifted up our feet as fast as we could, in such a manner that they imagined we were coming bodily upon them. With that the horse would fall back and make a halt, and we did in like manner. This was the method we used advancing and retreating, till such time as their foot thought proper to make off. Then the horse thought fit to make all the haste they could after them, so it was properly a general retreat. Then we were commanded to pursue, which we did, but to no purpose. I remember when we mounted a hill we could perceive they were upon another opposite to us, and sent us a salute by the mouth of three cannon, as an adieu; the first cannon ball grazed in the front but did no damage at all, and the colonel desired we would lie down, for we should have another or two, and we found it as he observed. After three cannons were fired we got up in high spirits, for we were under no apprehensions of having any more: so that did not much obstruct us in making our pursuit; and we soon put the French to the run. But it availed us little, having only occasioned the French to get into garrison sooner than they would have done, had not we pursued them.

"As we found they were determined not to face us any more, we returned to our army, or the ground we gained by our dexterity and artful inventions. It being the close of the day, we all began to think of rest, and having no tents to fix, we were obliged to take up with

such quarters as we could find. We were all dispersed in a short time, some in one place, and some in another. I remember well, after I had pitched upon whom I thought proper to go along with me, I perceived a house at some distance, whither we all agreed to go together, hoping to find it empty. But we found it the reverse, for it was full of miserable objects, that were disabled and wounded in such a manner that I thought them past all recovery. Therefore I said to my companions, I don't think there is a possibility of our having any rest this night. We endeavoured to the utmost of our ability to get out of the noise of the wounded, but found it almost impossible, except we had gone three or four miles distance, for all the hedges and ditches were lined with disabled men. Therefore we returned to an orchard and laid ourselves down in as warm a place as we could find, but the horrible cries and groans of the wounded terrified my soul, so that I was in tortures and fancied I felt their sufferings. So I could not lay my eyelids together all that night, for one thought or other that came fresh into my mind, after the agony I was in for my fellow-creatures."

When the changes in the ministry took place, and the war languished, Bishop, with his usual foresight, perceived that nothing more would be done in the fighting line in Europe: instead, therefore, of returning home to his wife, to whom, during his absence of several years, he had only written twice or thrice, he got drafted into a new regiment intended for Canada. He then renews his adventures, partly by sea and partly by land, in America, till accident, rather than design, brings him back to his native shores. We have already intimated the catastrophe that attended his return,

In what condition Bishop was when he wrote this book, we are not informed: he had received no promotion, though he hints, that had he sought or wished it, he might have contrived to have been made an adjutant. Various expressions in the course of the work would lead us to suppose that even in his old age he had an idea of being again employed; and it is not improbable that these memoirs were written with some such view. They are dedicated to the Earl of Stair, at that time Commanderin-Chief.

The Dramatic Works of Thomas Shadwell, Esq. in four Volumes. London, 1720. 12mo.

Ir is so rare for people to form their own opinions, or to examine into the validity of prevailing notions, that we must not be surprised to find that the success of Dryden in ridiculing the pretensions of Shadwell has been continued up to the present day. When his name has been mentioned, the allusion to MacFlecknoe, and to some of the more powerful strokes of a rival's satire, has always carried sufficient weight to stifle the

claims of Shadwell to posthumous fame. Our author had a fair reputation in his day, and it will astonish many to hear that he deserved it. The comedy of the reigns of Charles II. and his immediate successors will find no defenders in us: we grant their general badness, the poor contrivances, and their miserable morality, from which even the wit of Congreve could not redeem them. Nevertheless, in the composition of works upon a wretched plan, an author may exhibit his genius, and show indications of power that deserves to be better employed. Those who are fully impressed with the force and truth of Dryden's satire will be surprised to learn, that Shadwell was an accomplished observer of human nature, that he had a ready power of seizing the ridiculous in the manners of the times, and that he possesses and displays in his writings a very considerable fund of humour. He was moreover a man of sense and information, and in the midst of much indecency, coarseness, and whimsical folly, we find numerous valuable remarks, and many dialogues of pointed, able discussion. Certainly we would recommend the plays of Shadwell to neither indiscriminate perusal nor peiformance; but we believe that the literary antiquary might pick out much enjoyment from this mass of forgotten comedy, that the modern dramatist might reap many valuable hints, and that he who has a relish for broad humour, and can understand and enjoy the absurdities of character when developed in an exhibition of ancient folly, will do well to spend some leisure time over the plays of Shadwell. As for ourselves, we propose to do nothing more than justice in attempting to put the reputation of this author on its true level, and vindicate his memory from that charge of dulness which hangs over it. In the process we expect to be able to reproduce to the world many points and scenes which, while they throw light on past manners, are capable of affording some present instruction and amusement.

The model of Shadwell, in the composition of his plays, appears to have been the comedies of Jonson: he has applied the same methods to expose the follies of his day that his celebrated predecessor did before him; in some instances, the imitation is even closer: characters such as Sir Humphrey Scattergood, in the Woman Captain, who is a modification of Sir Epicure Mammon, are transferred with an allowance of difference for the changes of manners, and some of the ideas and speeches are also adopted with but slight variation. But though Shadwell may resemble the celebrated Ben in his partiality to pourtray extravagance in character, in the desultoriness of his plots, and in his general method and style, he falls far short of his model in his ability to represent passion and that intensity of feeling which Jonson sometimes infuses into his characters. Thus, though we may justly call Shadwell the

Jonson of his day, we must remember that the days of Charles II. and his brother form very different epochs in our literature from those of Elizabeth and the first James-the force of genius in the two writers preserving somewhat of the same ratio that exists between the times. Shadwell himself, so far from disguising this imitation, was proud of it, and in the following extract from the preface to one of his first plays explains the view he took of Ben Jonson's peculiar style.

"I have endeavoured to represent variety of humours (most of the persons of the play differing in their characters from one another), which was the practice of Ben Jonson, whom I think all dramatic poets ought to imitate, though none are like to come near; he being the only person that appears to me to have made perfect representations of human life. Most other authors that I ever read, either have wild romantic tales, wherein they strain love and honour to that ridiculous height that it becomes burlesque; or in their lower comedies content themselves with one or two humours at most, and those not near so perfect characters as the admirable Jonson always made, who never wrote comedy without seven or eight excellent humours. I never saw one, except that of Falstaff, that was in my judgment comparable to any of Jonson's considerable humours: you will pardon this digression, when I tell you he is the man, of all the world, I most passionately admire for his excellency in dramatic poetry.

"Though I have known some of late so insolent to say, that Ben Jonson wrote his best plays without wit; imagining that all the wit in plays consisted in bringing two persons upon the stage to break jests, and to boh one another, which they call repartee; not considering that there is more wit and invention required in the finding out good humour, and matter proper for it, than in all their smart repartees. For in the writing of a humour, a man is confined not to swerve from the character, and obliged to say nothing but what is proper to it: but in the plays which have been wrote of late, there is no such thing as perfect character, but the two chief persons are most commonly a swearing, drinking, whoring ruffian for a lover, and an impudent, illbred tomrig for a mistress; and these are the fine people of the play; and there is that latitude in this, that almost any thing is proper for them to say: but their chief subject is bawdy and profaneness, which they call brisk writing, when the most dissolute of men that relish those things well enough in private, are shocked at them in public: and methinks, if there were nothing but the ill manners of it, it should make poets avoid that indecent way of writing."

It will be seen from this free piece of criticism that the object of Shadwell was the exhibition of character, the selection of peculiar humours, as showing themselves in individuals, and this not, as in modern comedies, where the whole tide of the play tends to the illustration of some maxim, or some passion, or some single prevailing folly, but by mixing up together seven or eight remarkable characters, each displaying his own modes of thinking, acting, and speaking. The art of the dramatist is