and more unmannerly. It was not amiss that his duties were over. Certain services were now performed, which generally ended în a peer, or some other fortunate personage, carrying off a gold cup. The most interesting was the present of two falcons to his Majesty from the Duke of Athol. The King's health was about this time drunk with great acclamations, and the national air of "God save the King" sung in a grand style. I think I never heard it sung better before. The King, standing up, drank to his people; notice of which honour was communicated by the Duke of Norfolk: and very shortly afterwards (Non Nobis Domine having been sung, in which I heard the King take a part,) his Majesty retired amidst the joyous clamours of his people. I now descended into the body of the Hall, which was thronged with splendour and beauty. Hock and champagne, and fruit and venison pasties, were passing and repassing; and the most brilliant ladies were snatching at all the good things of this world from officers and gentlemen waiters. I was not idle; for having asked for a glass of water, and being informed " You get no water, take the wine, Great Potentate," I fell seriously to work upon a cherry pie, the nearest dish, and followed this victory up with others of a more decisive nature. I forgot that I had been famished; and lifting a cup of burgundy to my lips,declared that the fatigue of the day had been nothinga jest a merriment-a thing to tell of to the little children of 1896, or to write to kind friends in 1821. Before I quitted the banquet-room, I took the liberty of pocketing a sweetmeat dolphin, filched from the top of the Temple of Concord, which I shall long preserve amongst my scarce papers and curious coins, as a relic of the great Coronation Feast. Thus ended this splendid day. I have detailed the particulars of the pageant as faithfully as possible; and I only hope that the length of my letter, and its tedious minuteness, will not weary you. I have purposely abstained from any political discussion about the exclusion of the Queen, or her Majesty's morning visit, because I only intended a description of the pageant, and I knew that you cared not to have a repeatedly discussed subject discussed again. In the same manner I shall desist from sobering the conclusion of my letter with any solemn reflections on the events of the day, you have the mind to reflect for yourself, if this Alexandrine of a letter will allow you the time. Do not fail to tell me how you all "like the play," and to what extent you have envied me. I think I see Mrs. struck calmly mad at the profusion of satin. THE DRAMA. No. XIX. THIS month has been rich in events: -the death of Bonaparte has been proclaimed-the coronation has been, and passed away--and Mr. Kean has escaped from the republicans of the great continent, and is trans-atlantic no longer. In addition to these matters eminently notorious, the summer theatres have opened their doors, and informed us that they have each a pleasant saloon, prodigal of odours and ices, but leaving us to the discovery of their other attractions. Even "The Cobourg," pride of Surrey (that county where melodrame has flourished so long, and quadrupeds and tumblers still hold their ancient, but not "solitary," reign), has affected the cap and bells, and presented us with a specimen of the burlesque. And yet, the drama itself has been very barren of novelty. We feel this so much, on commencing our article, that we cannot but entertain a presentiment, that we shall have some difficulty in offering our readers any detail which will interest them. even admired him (Heaven forgive us-but we were young) in tragedy, though we have lived to correct that error. To see him in Lackland, in Tag, in Jeremy Diddler, in Tangent, or in Vapid, is delightful still; but the robe of tragedy encumbers him? he is too pompous; and makes " serious mirth of the Muse; lifting her simplest sayings to the highest pitch of his utterance, and drowning her stately periods in the deep thunders of his declamation. In short, he is a very clever comedian, and in tragedy indifferently bad. COVENT GARDEN. Hamlet. We regret that a day or two's illness prevented our seeing Mr. Charles Kemble in Hamlet. Ă competent friend of ours, who witnessed the representation, made very favourable report of it; but he has omitted to send us a statement for the Magazine. Mr. Kemble's air and person are certainly well qualified to sustain the interest of the melancholy Hamlet:--of his performance of the character, we can say no more than that it gives us pleasure to learn that it was successful. Of Miss Dance's Ophelia we have nothing to say. We saw Miss Stephens, and heard her, and were content; and our friend (who went for us to see Hamlet the second time) was too dissatisfied at Miss Stephens' secession, to give favourable report of the lady who succeeded her. The death of Bonaparte was the talk of some two hours! (who, after this, would be the fool of fame?) and Mr. Kean's return did not produce quite the same vivifying sensation as of old. But the coronation, certainly, for a time, absorbed all the sympathy of the fashionable crowd, and was not without its attractions for the vulgar. We suppose that it was on that account that the summer managers delayed producing their usual stock of farces and operas, "operettes," and "petites pieces,' until the ferment, excited by the royal exhibition, should have subsided. This was well. There is an old catch, beginning, "It is well to be merry and wise;" but this was being dutiful and wise, which is better still. They wisely, then, forbore to interfere with state matters, and left the ceremony of crowning to stand by itself, the great imposing marvel of the season. Covent Gar den, it is true, used less forbearance, and filled its benches with the giddy and the gay, at the expence of the house-proprietors in Palace-yard and George-street. Indeed, Drury Lane got up a sort of phantasma of the matter; but the shadow of regality passed off without doing any injury to the greater show, or any good to Mr. Elliston. Yet Mr. Elliston (though he mimicked so indifferently the royal pageant) is a truly loyal man, and menaced the public with Henry IV. Part II.-This play of three butts of porter to keep up (or Shakspeare has been wonderfully allay?) the fervour of their rejoicings. attractive, not from its intrinsic Why does not that worthy manager merit, however, great and undeniable enact the king himself, and walk as it is, but from the fact of the with steps, stately and slow, from coronation ceremony having been stage-door to stage-door, before the added, by which the people could eyes of admiring audiences? We see a good representation of the think that a diadem would sit easily on his brow, and a sceptre would be but a bauble in his hand. He is accustomed to ermine and prompt obedience; and may, perhaps, have as pirations after state and ceremonial, and the clapping of hands, and shouts that seem to come from the heart. We remember Mr. Elliston when he was a "fine, gay, boldfaced" person, who would have been invaluable in a procession. He had all the ease, and something of the grace, of a gentleman of the last age; and we confess he pleased us much. We courtly pomps, at the moderate expence of seven shillings. The lessees of houses and ground in the neighbourhood of Westminster-hall made, on the contrary, the most extravagant demands, and suffered accordingly. We own that we are not very sorry for this, unless where heavy sums of money were originally asked by the Dean and Chapter of Westminster; in which case it is hoped, for the credit of the church in general, and of the Dean and Chapter in particular, that a portion of the money will be refunded. A rich public body will scarcely suffer individuals to suffer ruin, or even loss, upon such an occasion. Loyalty and good-conscience, and Saint Stephen (who is their nearest Saint) forbid ! The plays of Henry IV. are of the finest order of mixed plays. They are not entirely comic, nor too tragic either; but they are lively, with a pleasant dash of the serious, and a little of the tragic intermingled. Falstaff is the hero of both; and he is big and witty enough to sustain more heaviness than is to be found in either play. In truth, the second part of Henry IV. is occasionally dull enough in representation; and the speeches of his majesty the king fatigue us even more than they afflict his son. Brevity is the soul of dramatic writing, as well as of wit; and (though we would not wish a word lost) we could be content if only part of the scenes between the prince and the king were represented on the stage; the rest would be more sacred, and we should probably enjoy it more, at home, from its not having been mouthed at the theatre. We say this, of course, without reference to Mr. Macready and Mr. Charles Kemble, who made the dialogue pass off as lightly as could be hoped. They both played well; but it was impossible for either to produce any great effect. It may be remarked, however, that the pause, and searching look which the father cast on his son, when he had taken the crown from his pillow, was not unfelt by the audience, and that the dying king's last impressive exhortation was acknowledged by repeated plaudits. Mr. C. Kemble looked regally, and became his throne. No king, from the conqueror of Agincourt to the present times, ever had such a princely representative. We wish that he had been more "i' the smile;" but perhaps the audience would have deemed it vulgar. Fawcett played Falstaff, in parts, well. Farren was Mr. Justice Shallow; but he disfigured the justice of peace, we thought, and reduced him to a mere inanity. Emery looked portentous in Silence. We thought that the markets were fast "coming down;" and that he had his granaries full, and huge droves of bullocks on hand. Mr. Claremont must forgive us if we do not admire his Prince) John, or Thomas, we forget which) so much as may be required. He will do us the justice to recollect, that a good deal goes (or ought to go) to the making up" of a true prince. DRURY LANE. Rob Roy, Guy Mannering, and a few other mixed dramas, have been got up at this theatre lately, for the purpose of introducing Mr. Mackay to the public. His reputation had preceded him in London; and his performance of Baillie Jarvie, and Dominie Sampson, had, it is said, been pronounced admirable by a high authority at Edinburgh. With these advantages, Mr. Mackay appeared at Drury Lane; and we confess that report has done him nothing but justice. He is the best comedian that we have ever seen make his debût in London. He is marvellously free from the coarseness and superfluous ornament which mark the country performer; he is earnest in the performance of his part, as well as excellent in the conception of it. He has none of the indolence or affectation of a spoiled actor, and none of the awkwardness of a provincialist. There is at once great truth, and spirit, and precision, in his style; which, with his moderation, prove him a keen observer of manner, as well as a sensible man. There is no person who plays Baillie Jarvie, or Dominie Sampson, like him. We do not think either of these characters (particularly the Baillie) adapted to Liston's talents; and it is, therefore, saying nothing in dispraise of him, when we own that we prefer Mr. Mackay to him. Mr. Mackay, it is true, could not compete with Liston in Lubin Log, and such characters; nor is there any one who can approach him. He is altogether inimitable. But on Scotch ground, Mr. Mackay may rest his foot very securely, without apprehension of a rival from our English theatres. We sincerely trust that he will have a permanent engagement next season, and have an opportunity of acting with other support than he received lately. Cooper was Rob Roy- Mrs. Harlowe, Helen- Mr. Horne and Mr. Barnard, Francis and Rashleigh Osbaldiston-a Mr. Vining, Dougal, and so on. Besides this, there was on Mr. Mackay's night (we were sorry to see it), a "beggarly account of empty boxes." The Drama. THE ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE is one of the pleasantest of all possible places. There is Miss Kelly there, who is enough to satisfy the most fastidious of critics, be it in comedy or tragedy, melodrame or farce. She has not the full sweep of tragedy, perhaps; and falls short in stature; and has a voice less powerful than Mrs. Becher (Miss O'Neill); but her powers of pathos are, to our apprehensions, greater, and her exercise of them more legitimate and true. She acts a dumb or a blind boy in a way that makes us forget that any sense is wanting or imperfect, or rather sheds such a grace upon infirmity as to make it unpleasant no longer. She plays a scene in " Inkle and Yarico" in a manner more heartrending than we have ever seen; and the trembling earnestness of her voice is, beyond comparison, more powerful than the stately periods, or artificial shrieks of more highly reputed actresses. In comedy she is quite unrivalled in the present day; and there is no one in our recollection, except Mrs. Jordan, who can compare with her. Besides Miss Kelly, there is Wrench, the most easy of actors. He comes on and goes off like an old glove. If he never stimulates you much, he at least never fatigues you. He has all the colloquial pleasantness of an acquaintance, and never obtrudes a disagreeable topic. No one can be more merry than he, unless it be Harley, who generally follows him on the stage, and is either servant, or pedagogue, or apothecary, as circumstances require. This latter actor is fuller of mirth than any man in our memory: he seems restless under his weight of animal spirits; and goes off like a bundle of crackers, joke after joke, sudden, startling, and irresistible. In calm contrast to Harley, may be placed his compeer Wilkinson, who is as indolent as the other is spirited and uneasy. He seems always to be in the "passive mood," to be swayed to and fro by the dialogue, and to give himself up to the wit of the piece, like one who is helpless. But he is the receptacle of a good deal of humour; and the fun oozes out of him as surely, though as slowly, as the drops come from the "serpent-pipe" in the process of distillation. He plays a charity boy capitally: hunger and discontent are written in plain 199 rulous as hard work and one meal letters on his face, and he is as quea-day can possibly suggest or excuse. We wonder that he has never been engaged at one of the winter theatres. He has something of the quality of Liston about him, but without that actor's fine spirit of burlesque, and without that power of filling up a character, by bye-play and high colouring, which Liston possesses. Indeed he carries his originality a little too far sometimes, and forgets the advice of the Prince of Denmark to the players. We will not trouble our readers with an analysis of the petite piece called "Love's Dream," which has been presented at this theatre; but we will assure them that it is very light and pleasant, and that if they want an hour or two's amusement, they cannot do better than see this, and the new farce of "Twopence," which follows. The first is the story of a lover's quarrel, which ends in the usual manner. Mr. Pearman is the lover, and Miss Kelly the "admired Miranda" (or rather the Cecilia Dormer) of the piece. They misunderstand each other, and pout and quarrel. The lady is affianced to Mr. Frederick Easy, (what a name for Wrench, who acts Mr. Easy!) and yielded up with sighs and a torn heart by Henry Morton (Mr. Pearman), who sings his woes melodiously, but commits mighty havoc with the dialogue, Simon (Mr. Easy's servant) is played by Harley, who sleeps, sorely against his inclination, in a haunted room, which Miss Cecilia Dormer, who walks in her sleep, has made "holy ground." Simon has a reasonable quantity of superstition, and has an utter aversion to ghosts and gunpowder. To the latter he has become averse, from the circumstance of Mr. Easy, who is a "good shot," having killed his horse under him:-to the former he has innate objections. The principal scene in this piece, is one wherein Miss Kelly plays the somnambulist, and discourses touching certain points which are absolutely necessary for the proper termination of the love disputes. We must own that she acts very excellently in this, although we think it a pity that she has so much to say. The hush and scattered exclamations in the scene of Lady Macbeth, have far greater effect than the long conversation which we hear in "Love's Dream;"-but comparisons are odious; and we will not compare Mr. (we do not know the author's name) with Shakspeare."Two-pence," is a lively bustling little farce, and is, as it justly announces, "as broad as it is long." It is written by a very lively young writer, Mr. Peake, who was the author, as will be recollected, of a very laughable piece, called, "Amateurs and Actors," which was played last season with great success. Mr. Peake has a good deal of the true spirit of joke in him; and burlesque comes easily, as well as pleasantly, off his pen. There is something of this even in the dramatis personæ ; and the alliteration falleth sweetly on our ears for instance : Orpheus Bluemold (more fond of his Bas- Tommy Patts (Pupil and Apprentice to Stevenson. But the farce itself is such as to beguile a man of his smiles, let him be a dissenter ever so strong. We should like to hear that Mr. Peake had written a character for Munden. We think he would turn that veteran's eyebrows to account, and place a pot of ale in his hand, and a bit of narrative, or a naïve speech, in his mouth, so as to produce more than common effect. As Mr. Peake is one of the pillars of the Lyceum, we see no reason why he should not lend his helping hand to prop the prouder arch es of Drury Lane. Harley is already at that theatre; and we hope that Wrench will be there next season; and our author has shown already what he can do for these two excellent actors. Before we quit the Lyceum, we should not forget Miss J. Stevenson, who is a pleasant young actress, and pretty; her articulation is rather too elaborate, and she wants ease; but she has a good deal of earnestness, and seems always on the qui vive. Mr. T. P. Cooke, who is one of the Lyceum corps (or was last year, we have not seen him there this season), is really eminent as a melo-dramatic performer; but dialogue is his bane. So long as he has nothing to do with words we Of Alonzo we've only this little to say, Pizarro. A young debutante, of the name of Forde, has appeared as Polly in the Beggar's Opera. Polly is not to be played but by an accomplished singer, and Miss Forde is as yet inexperienced and young. Her style savours somewhat of the school: she wants freedom and air both in voice and action; and she is not at present adapted to the stage. A year or two may, probably, make her a pleasant concert singer; but a year or two should certainly be given to study. Miss Wilson wants (not freedom, but) science, as much as Miss Forde, and she has done wisely, if report say true, in going to Italy. HAYMARKET. This new theatre, which has arisen like an exhalation' since the last season, has opened its gay portals, for the reception of its summer company. The old Haymarket theatre was sadly in decay, and its numerous inconveniencies were scarcely counterbalanced by the air of familiarity, aud want of pretension, which belonged equally to the place and the persons who frequented it. There is an imposing state about the winter theatres, that seems to demand the preparation of dress: silk and muslin, and fine linen' belong of right to their widely extended boxes; but we go to the Haymarket, and the Lyceum, as to a friend's house, to laugh and enjoy ourselves. We do not know that any of the old pleasure is actually subtracted from the Haymarket; but we have scarcely learned to make ourselves at home there yet. The paint and distemper |