Mallet, in a familiar conversation with Garrick, discoursing of the
diligence which he was then exerting upon the life of Marlborough, let
him know, that in the series of great men quickly to be exhibited, he
should _find a niche_ for the hero of the theatre. Garrick professed to
wonder by what artifice he could be introduced: but Mallet let him know,
that, by a dexterous anticipation, he should fix him in a conspicuous
place. "Mr. Mallet," says Garrick, in his gratitude of exultation, "have
you left off to write for the stage?" Mallet then confessed that he had
a drama in his hands. Garrick promised to act it; and Alfred was
produced.

The long retardation of the life of the duke of Marlborough shows, with
strong conviction, how little confidence can be placed in posthumous
renown. When he died, it was soon determined that his story should be
delivered to posterity; and the papers, supposed to contain the
necessary information, were delivered to lord Molesworth, who had been
his favourite in Flanders. When Molesworth died the same papers were
transferred, with the same design, to sir Richard Steele, who, in some
of his exigencies, put them in pawn. They then remained with the old
dutchess who, in her will, assigned the task to Glover and Mallet, with
a reward of a thousand pounds, and a prohibition to insert any verses.
Glover rejected, I suppose, with disdain, the legacy, and devolved the
whole work upon Mallet; who had from the late duke of Marlborough a
pension to promote his industry, and who talked of the discoveries which
he had made; but left not, when he died, any historical labours behind
him.

While he was in the prince's service he published Mustapha, with a
prologue by Thomson, not mean, but far inferiour to that which he had
received from Mallet, for Agamemnon. The epilogue, said to be written by
a friend, was composed in haste by Mallet, in the place of one promised,
which was never given. This tragedy was dedicated to the prince his
master. It was acted at Drury-lane, in 1739, and was well received, but
was never revived.

In 1740, he produced, as has been already mentioned, the Mask of Alfred,
in conjunction with Thomson.

For some time afterwards he lay at rest. After a long interval, his next
work was Amyntor and Theodora, 1747, a long story in blank verse; in
which it cannot be denied that there is copiousness and elegance of
language, vigour of sentiment, and imagery well adapted to take
poss