페이지 이미지
PDF
ePub

AND

Journal of Literature, Science, Music, Theatricals, and the Fine Arts.

No. 2.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 12, 1833.

PRICE 2d.

This Journal is Edited by F. W. N. BAYLEY, Esq. the late Editor and Originator of " The National Omnibus," the first of the cheap Publications; assisted by the most eminent Literary Men of the Day.

REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.

result of eight years' experience in the of going across countries, and through unSketch of the United States of America. country. These are digested in the form of known dangers, to sell to the Indians, pow12mo. Loudon 1833. Wilson. (Unpub-letters to a friend, and are written with a der, arms, coarse stuffs, but particularly lished.) good deal of intelligence and we are inclined whiskey, in exchange for skins. They in to believe fidelity also. A few rather inno- general settle upon some navigable river, at cent contradictions occur in the logic of the the extreme circumference of civilization. writer's reasoning; but the whole work is These white men usually live with Indian too much studded with interesting details to women, who serve them as interpreters. allow of our quibbling about trifles. We Every year they come into some large town select what we consider an interesting quo- to supply themselves with provisions, aud are for a long time the sole medium of communication between the man of their colour, and the red man. Very soon the Indians not only accustom themselves to the conveniences of life, but can no longer do without them; and, instead of hunting, as formerly, for their meaus of subsistence, they now do so chiedly with a view to profitable traffic. Thus is the first degree of civilization established.

tation.

Ir is gratifying to see how much all men interest themselves in whatever concerns the progress or improvement of a country in which legislation is founded upon the noble institutions of freedom, and where the people live in the exercise of liberty. It is this very feeling that now actuates nearly all Europe, but France and England in particu"It is nothing less than the birth of a lar, in their watchful anxiety in whatever nation, and the history of its progress to concerus America-America once a colony, maturity, that I am going to sketch to you. now a nation; once the bank of another's Do not smile, you will see it in a dozen riches, now the source of her own fertilizing years raise itself gradually from barbarism wealth, extending her commerce, improving and ignorance, to the summit of civilization. her agriculture, and leaping at every step, by This is a miracle, of which twelve states prethe light of liberalism, farther and farther sent the confirmation; and, at this moment, into the broad and bright arena of civilization. three infant states, which are yet as it were So beautiful is it to watch the progress of upon the stocks, afford us the opportunity of her people in this path, that all who feel in observing the process of this transformation, common with the Americans, who respect and of taking nature in the act. Here we their citizenship, admire their institutions, see pass under our eyes, and may study, perceive the avidity with which they encou- what historians represent to us as the labour rage literature and appreciate their advance. of ages. These countries resemble the en-brious, very soon causes an emigration of ment in and research after everything cou-chanted gardens of Armida ;-people and nected with science, philosophy, and art: nations multiply in an eternal spring:

imbibe a freshness of delight in the perusal
of whatever traces their improvements, or
describes the natural beauties of their country,
and the social influence of their society.
On all of these points there has certainly
been of late a great deal of misrepresenta-
tion. Mrs. Trolloppe, above all, in her
strictures on their domestic manners, has
falsified what she did not see, and flung the
veil of prejudice over all she did.

E mentre spunta l'un, l'altro matura.

TASSO.

"On the other hand, the American hunter forms a class as enterprising as intrepid. The return of an Indian trader, with a rich booty, brought from a yet unexplored region, in which he has found the chase abundant, the earth fertile, the water salu

men of a like sort. How shall I describe them to you, after COOPER, in bis Pioneers, and the Last of the Mohicans? They are inimitable. I refer you to those two ro"You have no doubt been struck, on look-mances: there you will see that they adopt ing over a map of the United States, with the life of the savage more from inclination the small proportion which the States occupy, than necessity, and that they unite to his Did you ever ask yourself by what process address, his patience, and his daring courage, these immense countries, which belong to the softness and humanity of the white man. the Confederation, are peopled and governed? It is by them the knowledge of the new I will endeavour to tell you. Without en- countries is first gained; they explore every tering into a history of any particular terri- part of them, and spread reports more or less This little work before us appears, at all tory, my relation may serve as generally apexaggerated. events, to be free from this too frequent fail-plicable to them all. ing. A spice of partiality may occasionally season the justness of the general remarks; but we have no reason to complain that it pervades the spirit of the work. Under the title of a Sketch of the United States, it embraces indeed infinitely more of descriptive information thau of original remark. It gives us the geography, the topography, and

"The Indian, meanwhile, does not re"The Indians occupy the space beyond main stationary. He can no longer do the limits of the States, and even within without a gun, some powder, liquors, and many lands, which, either willingly or other-blankets; he settles himself near some wise, the Confederation give up to them by dealer, and begins to buy horses and cattle. little and little. When I speak of Indians, 1 The introduction of tools offers him the must not be understood precisely to mean facility of building excellent huts: the wosavages. It is here indeed that the wonder-men (squaws) begin to clear all the ground ful process of civilization commences: many adjacent, and to plant a little maize and a little of the geology of the country, its in-uations or tribes to the west of the Missouri, tobacco; in short, Indian villages spring up who have never seen a white mau, nor had in the desert. The Indian trader does good direct intercourse with him, are, without business; other dealers follow him; the doubt, savages; but the Creek, or the Che-country becomes inundated with hunters; rokee, enclosed in the midst of civilization, they mix with the Indians, and are not long cultivating his lauds, having organised a re- without having some dispute with them. It presentative government, and established is generally on occasion of one of these disschools, is more civilized than the Irish or putes, which almost always terminate in Austrian peasant. war, that the government of the Union The work is, as far as we can learn, a "A white man arrives among a nation, interferes for the first time. The Indians translation from the French, the original still entirely savage, and living in all the bar-kill the whites whom they meet, and someproduction of young Murat, who is now in barism and pride of ignorance and anarchy; times eveu advance into the midst of the England, and who, we understand, has (in this man is in general what is called an In-settlements, and massacre women and chila polite note to the English publisher) inti-dian trader. An intrepid hunter, a shame-dren. The hunters, on their side, continue mated the contents of his volume to be the less cheat, he undertakes the perilous trade the war with no less ardour, and are not

ternal divisions, its varieties of inhabitants, its commerce, its agriculture, its government; every thing, indeed, that tends positively to ground the reader in a knowledge of America and her people; and yet, to do so, more by the evidence of fact than through the medium of inferences drawn by the reasoning faculties of the writer.

[ocr errors]

feeling often made it, however, eminently beautiful, and lending a touching tenderness which fled from his soul to his song; and gave to it the same effect upon the hearts of his readers as it had previously had upon his own. This, indeed, we take to be the marked character of most of his domestic poems; his classic works bear the impress of a loftier genius; but his home poems rouse our feelings, while the others do but work upon our admiration. Cowper, however, from almost any of his poems, would have derived fame as great as their congregated (yet often widely contrasted) excellencies have made it enduring. There are few among our poets in whose life we take more interest, from the tone it has given to his works, and from their intimate association with many of its private incidents.

loug before they receive the assistance of the country soon assumes a new aspect: Johnny Gilpin was penned in a fit of dessome troops of the line, or of the militia of every seven or eight miles rise up huts, pondency. The piety mingled with this a neighbouring State. The Indians are de-formed from the trunks of trees. Iron is feated, their huts burnt, their cattle destroy- too dear for them to permit themselves the ed, and hostilities terminate with a treaty of use of it; wood, therefore, supplies its place, peace, after they have been taught to appre-even for hinges and locks. One of these ciate the power of the United States. huts may easily be constructed in two or The Indians select chiefs, who assemble three days; one may see them spring up like upon some central spot, where they find mushrooms. More than once, when on prepared to meet them, commissiouers from horseback in the woods, in search of my the United States. There they have a tulk, horses or strayed oxen, I have met, in the or conference. The articles of the treaty are very midst of the forest, a cart loaded with in general the following: 1st, the Indians household furniture and children, and one renounce the greater and more fertile part or two men escorting about thirty cows and of their lands, and the government, under hogs. After the questions, Where do yon | the name of reserve, guarantees to them such come from? Where are you going? which part of it as it thinks proper. 2d, the are always cordially answered, the head of United States pay to them an annuity, part the family has asked me some details relative in cattle, tools, agricultural implements, and to the country, and requested me to direct provisions, and part in money. 3d, the him to the creek, or the nearest spring. A United States establish near the nation an week after I have been astonished to see a agent, without whose permission no white good hut there, a field of cattle, and some It was, we think, a desirable thing to get can trade, nor even pass the frontier. 4th, poultry; the wife spinning cotton, the hus- a copious and condensed memoir of him, the Indians also are not to pass their limits band destroying trees by making a circular compiled from the scattered information of without a passport from the agent. 5th, it incision in them, called a girdle,-in short, other rambling works, and including as much is to him that both the Indians and the settling their household gods without mak- of his private correspondence as might reawhites must carry any complaints they maying any inquiry as to whom the land belonged. sonably be admitted into the book. This have to make against each other, and he is Frequently, also, I have seen them, after a we are happy to see is much the kind of to see justice done between them. 6thly, few days' sojourn, abandon their dwelling plan which Mr. Taylor has adopted, enrichthe United States establish an agency house, for the slightest cause, and transport them-ing it with the praiseworthy view of asking a blacksmith, a carpenter, and a schoolmas-selves-God knows where. This population a full, fair, and unbiassed survey of his chater, for the use of the nation. 7thly, if the of Squatters is sometimes very numerous; it racter.' The author makes no pretensions crops have been destroyed, the United States attracts the speculator in cattle and the ped- to originality except on this ground, and here allow rations until the next season. Some lars, a sort of travelling packs, who do not we hold him entitled to all praise, since he of these reserves are still found in the old differ from those of Europe, except that their has certainly thrown clear and curious lights States, and even in New England. Thus shop is in a cart." upon the disposition of the man, and coupled packed in, the Indians apply themselves to them with some clever disquisitions on the agriculture. In some instances in the south writings of the poet. The chaste beauty and they have prospered, and are become civielegance of Cowper's own letters, and the lized; but, in general, they have fallen into advice of Dr. Johnson, the poet's relative, idleness and misery, and diminished in have contributed much to the treasures of the number to a frightful extent: some tribes, volume. We add to our recommendation a ouce powerful, are now utterly extinguished few pages of its contents, describing the latter end of the poet's life.

"But let us leave the Indians and turn to the white population now extended around them. The war which has taken place has made the country of which it has been the theatre better known; the government be gius to take an interest in it, aud establishes there, within reach of the agency house, a military post composed of forty men, troops of the line.

The Life of William Cowper, Esq.

By

Thomas Taylor. 1 Vol. royal 8vo.
p.p. 368.
Londou: Smith and Elder.

[ocr errors]

THE life of Cowper is rich in materials of pleasing yet melancholy interest. To trace its vicissitudes, and view its many calamities, is like wandering alone along a sombre path, where we are nevertheless occasionally "It became evident, towards the close of cheered by the sight of some beautiful flower 1799, that his bodily strength was rapidly preserving its lightness and colour, even declining, though his mental powers, notwhere there was no sun. Many such flowers withstanding the unmitigated severity of his indeed fell in the way of the poet Cowper, depression, remained unimpaired. In Jaand with the piety to worship the Power nuary, 1800, Mr. Johnson observed in him that taught them to blossom, and the sensi- many symptoms which he thought very unbility to appreciate their own natural loveli- favourable. This induced him to call in ad"The first species of settlers, or culti-ness, he drew from them not a little of the|ditional medical advice. His complaint was vators, is what we call Squatters. These honey of cheerfulness and religion, where-pronounced to be, not as has been generally are poor citizens, generally not very in with he sweetened his spirit into calmness, dustrious, who, not possessing the means and relieved that deep depression which else of buying land, live upon those of others, had seemed to have folded his heart like a and work them until they are expelled mantle, and made it the home of grief. by the proprietors. Their poverty is en- It was the misfortune of Cowper that the tirely the fruit of their idle and drunken sensitiveness of genius was so combined with habits, for those among them who are indus- his own natural sympathies, as to make trious never fail to make a fortune. There them almost too strong for his mind. All are, however, many of them who, although industrious, and with the means of rapidly angmenting their substance, pursue this sort of life from choice, from taste, and, perhaps, even from habit. For the most part, they have a wife and children, some negroes, and, sometimes, very numerous flocks. They rarely raise two crops from the same laud; on the contrary, they quit a district as soon as it becomes peopled. Under their hands

his friends felt this, and kindly enough did
they endeavour to counteract the undue in-
fluence which it gave to his sorrows. It
seems, however, to have begun with his
early career in the world, and to have been
his companion to the latest hour of his life.
His lightest moments even were tinged with
this instinctive melancholy, and his lightest
effusions penned under its prevalence. Every
one knows that his celebrated poem of

To

stated, dropsical, but a breaking-up of the
constitution. Remedies, however, were
tried, and he was recommended to take as
much gentle exercise as he could bear.
this recommendation he discovered no parti-
cular aversion, and Mr. Johnson took him
for a ride in a postchaise, as often as cir-
cumstances would permit; it was, however,
with considerable difficulty he could be pre-
vailed upon to use such medicines as it was
thought necessary to employ.

"About this time his friend Mr. Hayley wrote to him, expressing a wish that he would new-model a passage in his translation of the Iliad, where mention is made of the very ancient sculpture in which Dadalns had represented the Cretan dance for Ariadne. On the 31st January,' says Mr. Hayley, ‹ I

[ocr errors]

Cowper's weakness now very rapidly increased, and by the end of February it had become so great as to render him incapable of enduring the fatigue of his usual ride, which was hence discontinued. In a few days he ceased to come downstairs, though he was still able, after breakfasting in bed, to adjourn to another room, and to remain there till the evening. By the end of the ensuing March, he was compelled to forego even this trifling exercise. He was now entirely coufined to his bedroom; he was, however, still able to sit up to every meal, except breakfast.

"He was buried in that part of Dereham Church, called St. Edmund's Chapel, on Saturday, the 2nd May, 1600; and his

As he died without a will, his amiable and beloved relation, Lady Hesketh, kindly undertook to become his administratrix. She raised a tablet monument to his memory, with the following inscription :

IN MEMORY OF WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ.,
Born in Hertfordshire, 1731. Buried in this
Church, 1800.

Ye who with warmth the public triumph feel
Of talents, dignified by sacred zeal,
Here, to devotion's bard, devoutly just,
Pay your fond tribute, due to Cowper's dust!
England, exulting in his spotless fame,
Ranks with her dearest sons his favourite name;
Sense, fancy, wit, suffice not all to raise
So clear a title to affection's praise;
His highest honours to the heart belong-
His virtues formed the magic of his song.

The work is very prettily got up, and has · a frontispiece portrait.

Semi-Serious Observations of an Italian
Exile during his Residence in England.
By Count Pecchio. Small 8vo. pp. 525.
London: Effingham Wilson.

received from him his improved version of he was on the eve of being invested with the lines in question, written in a firm and angelic light, the darkness of delusion still delicate hand. The sight of such writing veiled his spirit.' from my long-silent friend inspired me with "On the following day, which was Sun-funeral was attended by several of his relaa lively, but too sanguine hope, that I might day, he revived a little. Mr. Johuson, on tives. In a literary point of view, his long see him once more restored. Alas! the verses repairing to his room, after he had discharged and painful affliction had ever been regarded which I surveyed as a delightful omen of his clerical duties, found him in bed and as a national calamity: a deep and almost future letters from a correspondent so inex-asleep. He did not, however, leave the universal sympathy was felt in his behalf; pressibly dear to me, proved the last effort room, but remained watching him, expect- and by all men of learning and of piety, his of his pen.' ing he might, on awaking, require his as death was looked upon as an event of no sistance. Whilst engaged in this melancholy common importance. office, and endeavouring to reconcile his mind to the loss of so dear a friend, by considering the gain which that friend would experience, his reflections were suddenly interrupted by the singularly varied tone in which Cowper then began to breath. Ima gining it to be the sound of his immediate summons, after listening to it for several minutes, he arose from the foot of the bed on which he was sitting, to take a nearer, and, as he supposed, a last view of his de. parting relative, commending his soul to that gracious Saviour, whom, in the falness of "His friend Mr. Rose, about this time, mental health, he had delighted to honour. paid him a visit. Such, however, was the As he put aside the curtains, Cowper opened melancholy change which his complicated his eyes, but closed them again without maladies had produced upon his mind, that speaking, and breathed as usual. On Monhe expressed no pleasure at the arrival of day he was much worse; though towards one whom he had previously been accustom-the close of day, he revived sufficiently to ed to greet with the most cordial reception. take a little refreshment. The two followMr. Rose remained with him till the first ing days he evidently continued to sink raweek in April, witnessing with much sorrow pidly. He revived a little on Thursday, but, the sufferings of the afflicted poet, and kindly in the course of the night, he appeared exsympathizing with his distressed relations ceedingly exhausted; some refreshment was and friends. Little as Cowper had appeared presented to him by Miss Perówne, but, WRITTEN in a rambling and inconsecutive, to enjoy his company, he evinced symptoms owing to a persuasion that nothing could though not inelegant style, and very indiffeof considerable regret at his departure. afford him relief, though without any apparently arranged; with nothing in them that "Both Lady Hesketh and Mr. Hayley rent impression that the hand of death was can pretend to profundity of thought, or would have followed the humane example of already upon him, he mildly rejected the extraordinary shrewdness of remark. There Mr. Rose, in visiting the dying poet, had they cordial with these words, the last he was are, nevertheless, in these "semi-serious not been prevented by circumstances over heard to utter: What can it signify?" observations," a piquancy and raciness which which they had no control. The health of Early on Friday morning, the 25th, a may well repay a perusal of the single vothe former had suffered considerably by her decided alteration for the worse was per-lume in which they are conveyed. The wrilong confinement with Cowper, at the com-ceived to have taken place. A deadly change ter, Count Pecchio, (now married to an Engmencement of his last attack, and the latter appeared in his countenance. In this insen-lish lady, and settled at Brighton,) fled from was detained by the impending death of a sible state he remained till a few minutes his own country after the Piedmontese revodarling child. before five in the afternoon, when he gently, lution, and sought refuge in England. While "Mr. Johnson informs us, in his sketch and without the slightest apparent pain, here, he beguiled the tedium of his exile by of the poet's life, that on the 19th April the ceased to breath, and his happy spirit noting down whatever he met with, read of, weakness of this truly pitiable sufferer had so escaped from his body, in which, amidst the or learnt, which he deemed illustrative of much increased, that his kinsman appre- thickest gloom of darkness, it had so long the manners and usages of the people among hended his death to be near. Adverting, been imprisoned, and took its flight to the whom he had found protection; and these therefore, to the affliction, as well of body as regions of perfect purity and bliss. In a "random records," moulded into pleasant of mind, which his beloved inmate was then manner so mild and gentle did death make commentaries, he afterwards published in enduring, he ventured to speak of his ap-its approach, that though his kinsman, his Italy, for the amusement and edification of proaching dissolution as the signal of his de-medical attendant, and three others, were his countrymen. They are now translated liverance from both these miseries. After a standing at the foot of the bed, with their into English. As might have been expected, pause of a few moments, which was less in-eyes fixed upon his dying countenance, the many curious blunders, highly amusing from terrupted by the objections of his desponding precise moment of his departure was unob- their very absurdity, pervade the work; and relative than he had dared to hope, he pro- served by any. as the premises, hastily caught up, on which ceeded to an observation more consolatory "From this mournful period,' writes Mr. the Count dilates, are frequently and ridicu still-namely, that in the world to which he Johnson, till the features of his deceased lously erroneous, his conclusions are neceswas hastening, a merciful Redeemer, who friend were closed from his view, thesarily of the same stamp. Witness the folhad prepared unspeakable happiness for all expression which the kinsman of Cowper lowing extracts: his children, and therefore for him—. To observed in them, and which he was affecthe first part of this sentence he had listened tionately delighted to suppose an index of the with composure, but the concluding words last thoughts and enjoyments of his soul in were no sooner uttered than his passionately its gradual escape from the depths of deexpressed entreaties that his companion spondence, was that of calmness and comwould desist from any further observations posure, mingled, as it were, with holy of a similar kind, clearly proving that though surprise.

[ocr errors]

666

"The English still delight in ghosts, witches, haunted churchyards, and a whole host of monstrosities. Woe be to him who should venture to write a romance without some apparition fitted to make each particular hair to stand on end!"

Indeed! We had thought that the taste

"Q. Why are not the English good dancers?

for the moustrous and supernatural was well | windmill, or perhaps not at all, like a phan-
nigh exploded in England: but let that tom; and for several hours change the mo-
pass; and proceed we to the following ques-dulation of the voice no more than a Scotch
tions and answers.
bagpipe. The minister Canning, in the heat
of speaking, used to thump with his right
hand on a small wooden box which stood be-
"A. Because they do not practise. The fore him, like a blacksmith raising up and
houses are so small and weak, that he who bringing down his hammer. His rival,
would cut a caper in the third story, must Brougham, tall, thin, convulsed in the mus-
run the risk of thundering like a bombshell cles of his face, crosses, when he speaks,
down into the kitchen, which is placed un-both arms and legs, actually like one of our
derground.
boneless fantoccini."

"Q. Why is it that the English gesticulate so little, and have their arms almost always glued to their sides?

"A. For the same reason, I believe the rooms are so small, that it is impossible to wave one's arm without breaking something, or inconveniencing somebody.”

The ensuing scene is, we think, particularly well described. The Count had been sent for to give lessons in Italiau to the young ladies of whom he speaks.

"I knocked at the door with a rat-tat, to give the servants to understand that I was a visitor, and not some working-man or tradesNow, as to the slightness of the fabric of man, who may not announce themselves modern houses of a certain class, and the otherwise than by a gentle single knock. A inconvenient smallness of their cupboard-like footman with velvet breeches, with white rooms, we cannot dispute our author's cor-stockings, (not clocked, however,) opened rectness; but that the English are not good the door, and showed me the way to the daucers, merely because such of them as re-dining-room, leaving me there by myself, side in such habitations cannot practise on while he went to announce me to the master third floors, and that they are deficient in the of the house. A fire, fit for an auto-da-fé, gesticulation in which foreigners so much shone in the grate; everything was in its excel, because their rooms are so small that place, as if there were going to be a review. any extraordinary action of the arm would A japanned basket, painted green, lay in be hazardous in them, we must venture to front of one of the long windows, full of gepronounce arrant nonsense. These, how-rauiums in bloom, grown in the hot-house, ever, we presume, are to be ranked among the "semi-serious" remarks in which our author has indulged.

Again:

[ocr errors]

turning her head meanwhile toward me.
She was tall, well made, and, without being
haughty, shewed an esteem for herself which
was certainly merited. I was told that she
had been a very beautiful woman.
After a few moments she left us, and went
upstairs to warn her daughters to have every-
thing in readiness. Meanwhile, the Rev.
made a digression to me on the ancient
historians, gave me to understand that he
was connected by friendship with Lord By-
ron, asked me to stay to dinner, and paid
me a thousand other civilities. I perceived,
from this chequered discourse, that he was
familiar with the higher classes, that he was
rich, and that, in spite of fox-hunting, he
was well versed in the classics. *** In an
easy and good-mannered tone, he shortly after
subjoined, that I might walk upstairs, and he
himself preceded me to show the way. I
found the drawing-room, as usual, occupied
by several tables, with a piano, books, and
ladies' work. My scholars were standing
upright, with the accustomed cold and modest
English air, enough to freeze a compliment
stiff on the lips of a Parisian. The eldest
was a young lady of nineteen, slender, and
even rather thin, of a brunette complexion,
with black hair, black eyes, and very white
and regular teeth,- --an ornament rather rare
in England, among gentlemen as well as
ladies. Her smile was sweet, and the ex-
pression of her countenance angelico-Italian.
She had all the requisites to make me a St.
Preux. The second was a lusus naturæ, an
Albino, well-made, of a very bright com-
plexion, with hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes
completely white, and eyes approaching to
red. Every word, every motion, was a zephyr
she was all sweetness. Although very

surrounded by several other little vases of beautiful flowers, brought also from thence in turn, to adorn the room dedicated to visitors. After a few minutes' pause, behold the 'Many bakers," says the Count, "ride Rev. entering the room with an affable about London in vehicles so rapid, elastic, smile. I had no difficulty in discovering that and elegant, that an Italian dandy would not the master of the house stood before me, disdain to appear in one of them at the Corso. having seen a portrait of him hanging from The butchers may be frequently met with, one of the walls, extremely like. "Beauti-short-sighted, she seemed to me more adconveying the meat to their distant custom-ful weather; Very fine day;" (although it vanced in her studies than her elder sister, ers, mounted on fiery steeds, and dashing had rained two or three times during the which is always a compensation for a little along at full gallop." morning,)—this eternal daily ceremony of less beauty. The third was a girl of thirteen, Verily, this savours somewhat of the figure England, was the exordium. The Rev. pretty, like her elder sister, very vivacious hyperbole. Far be it from us, however, to was a man about 45 years of age, in florid in her glances, which she threw, now stealderogate from the equipages of the "mas-health. The felicity of his condition was thily at me while I was reading, now at her ters of the rolls." Of the "elegant vehi-painted on his cheerful and vivacious coun- elder sister, when she had to answer me cles" of the bakers, therefore, we shall say tenance; his forehead was not darkened by something. Their mother, during the lesson, nothing but as to the butchers and their any of those wrinkles or clouds which are kept on working, talking at times in an under"fiery steeds," really this is too much. We imprinted there either by misfortune or assi- tone to some one of her daughters when they have, indeed, heard that butchers are so duous study. His white teeth and his good-happened to be at rest, and answering for celebrated for a kind of lop-sided horseman-humour shewed that his digestion was also ship, that they can make even washing-stools good. I afterwards learned, that the secret "go," and by this, their peculiar tact, they of all this, his elixir of life, and fountain of certainly do occasionally "dash along" on perpetual youth, was the exercise he took in their Roziuantes" at full gallop," to the fox-hunting, shooting, and fishing, with a sore affright of divers old women and chil- sequel and appendix of good dinners and dren among his Majesty's lieges; but fiery good wines. A few mosteeds! Oh, Giuseppe Pecchio! thou canst ments afterwards entered the wife of the not, surely, be even semi-serious here? Rev. ——, who, without stirring from the fire, where he was standing, with his back towards it, in the Continental mode, intimated to me that I saw the lady of the house. While I, with my riding-whip in my hand, twisting myself like a French dancing-mas ter, bending my head a little on one side, and drawing my lips together, muttered a compliment in French, flavoured with the usual charmé and enchanté, Mrs. with a cold repelling mien, and an indifferent air, took her way towards the fire-place,

The following extracts, with which we must conclude, afford favourable specimens of our author's talent.

[ocr errors]

"English Oratory in the House of Commons.

They are, perhaps, or, even without a perhaps, the best extemporaneous speakers in the world; yet they never study either gesture or gesticulation. There is none of this elegance, or this affectation, whichever it may be best called, in England; they rise dressed just as it happens, gesticulate like a

[ocr errors]

them, when, on my asking them what they knew of French and Italian, they cast down their eyes, and did not presume to utter their own praises. The fact was that they were well instructed, knew French exceedingly well, and with all imagiuable candour showed me the difficulties they met with in reading Metastasio, whom they delighted in. My amphibious situation, as I may call it, was a diversion to me. Now I seemed to myself born to play the master, and hired to dissertate on articles and concordances; now I seemed to take the part of Count Almaviva, in the Barber of Seville, especially when the milk-white hand of the first of these damsels, (the very hand described by Ariosto,) followed with the finger the lines of the book. Now, all the ticklish allusions to which the grammatical terminations give rise in Italian coming to my mind, I was ready to burst

with laughter when it fell to me to speak of on the slow, yet certain, award of true cause poor Melpomene could not feed the the preterite, &c." judgment. How long is it ago since Words-children of her three sister muses, (for we We could, with ease and pleasure, multi-worth was sneered at as a puerile dreamer; had forgotten the ballet,) "The House of ply extracts of an equally amusing character; since when, to name the genius of Shelley, and, in spite of the author's ludicrous mis- was to attract the inquiring looks of the takes, and frequent misappreciation of cir- hearer to the feet of the admirer? cumstances, we cannot conclude without The plot of "The House of Colberg" is of saying, commend us to the vivacious and the simplest kind. Its incidents are few: English-loving Count, as a light-hearted and the whole interest of the drama rests on the agreeable companion, whose book is ori-ambition of Colberg to wed his daughter to ginal, and readable, and whose "ob-the Prince of Eisbach, son of his early servations" are always good-natured and friend, and his desperation at the failure of unaffected, and generally characterized by good sense.

The House of Colberg. By T. J. Serle,

Author of "The Merchant of London."-
Richardson.

THIS tragedy was, a few weeks since, produced at Drury-lane, and was played four nights: that it was not played forty was not the fault of the drama, but, on one hand, of the enormous size of the theatre, and of the bad degrading system adopted to fill it. A man writes a play; it is constructed on a severely simple style; it displays the inspiration of pure and lofty poetry; the characters are forcibly depicted, and their relative operations on one another worked out with a knowledge of human nature, directed to a dramatic end. He achieves a peculiar and most difficult task, and his reward isdisappointment. The system (as, in the course of the present article, it shall be our purpose to show,) offers up the dramatist as a victim to overbuilt theatres and overpaid actors. However, first let us speak of Mr. Serle.

"The House of Colberg" is, on the whole, not so fine a work as "The Merchant of London." Its objects are not so high, its language not so fresh and vigorous. The morbid spirit of the feudal Colberg falls before the noble, innate dignity of the merchant Scroope, whose benevolence and philosophy are given with a beauty and healthfulness that may successfully vie with many of the best creations of our elder dramatists. The whole tone of "The Merchant of London" is impressively tender and delight ing, from its high moral purpose. Colberg, on the other hand, is a kind of feudal Laocoon, enfeebled and devoured by pride of birth; our sympathies are for his victim, we do not feel acutely for him, until he nearly ceases to be. Scroope, on the contrary, has our heart with him from the first scene; we delight to watch him, as, like an abstraction of goodness, he walks among men, practising the noblest charities of an exalted soul. "The Merchant of Loudon" was, for all this, played but nine times. The era is fast approaching when it will reassume its station on the English boards; and if we mistake not the spirit of the age, if we do not miscalculate that late justice to which many of our greatest authors owe their influence on posterity, "The Merchant of London" will be "signed and noted" as one of the few really great dramatic triumphs of the present day. Our readers may reflect on the changes of even these last ten years;

Colberg" faded from the bill. This is the great cause of the decline of the drama, the demand on one piece to pay three companies. It may be said that theatres, in their palmest times, combined tragic, comic, and operatic strength: granted; but, in those days, what were the salaries of actors, compared with the remuneration of our times? Oliver Goldsmith cleared upwards of a thouhis hopes. The language shares in the sim-sand pounds by "She Stoops to Conquer :” plicity of the plot; it is the language of sen-but then the nightly expenses of Covent timent, and not of words. We extract the following; all that, in fulfilment of the purposes of this article, we have space for: "Col. You feel a pity for that gladiator! Are we not all such? Are we not all doomed

To waste our generous spirits in a strife
Of baseness? Mark the world. There is the soldier
Whose valour is hired out, perchance to quell
A nobler daring in a holier cause:
And hear the statesman's eloquence; when pleads he
For truth alone and right? The philosopher
Wrestles in noble energy with vice,
But, ere he enters on the fatal lists,

His doom is pre-ordained. E'en the blithe poet,
That builds a perfect world unto himself,
Whose wishes are creation, is awak'd
From his fond dream of luxury, to strive
With envy and detraction, sneering folly,
Is spent like water 'gainst a rock of ice,
Biting indifference, 'till his vital warinth
Congealing to like stillness. The true patriot,
How often does he press the gift of liberty
In vain on slaves, and perish by the hands
Of those he would have blessed? All noble things

Are made for the cruel sport of baser natures;
The world is their great audience-it applauds,
Pities, perhaps, and cheers; then ends the theme
By saying 'twas gallant pastime. When I think thus,
I pity not him whom ignoble death
Frees from a more ignoble life."

Garden were seventy pounds. Were that comedy originally produced now, the author (allowing that his work ran twenty nights,) would not clear more than four hundred pounds? What makes this difference? Simply this: the nightly expenses of Covent Garden now amount to nearly thrice the sum of the days of Goldsmith.

Our great hope in the ultimate prosperity of the drama is in the minor theatres: they, poor and imperfect as they are at present, prove the iniquity of the system at the patent houses. The two most prosperous theatres in London are the Adelphi and the Olympic; and they are prosperous, simply because they have no superabundant population to keep: they have no monstrous civil list, no hordes of idle paupers. Everybody fairly earns his salary by taking his proper share in the representation of pieces, peculiarly adapted to the resources of the company. We would not, however, be misunderstood as wishing to level all theatres to the grade of the Adelphi and the Olympic: to do so would be to annihilate the worthiest purposes of the drama. At the Adelphi, for "The House of Colberg" was repeated instance, we have scarcely a standard origibut four nights. Why was this? It was re-nal piece; whilst the mummery, not to say ceived with marked approbation; nothing the obscenity, at times displayed by two or could exceed the peculiar beauty of Mac-three of the improvisatori of that establishready's acting; in no character did he ever ment has often made us wonder and regret win more applause. His personification of the patience of the audience. the restless, morbid man; the wild will, the eating remorse, the utter desolation of the wretched father; all this was perfect and thrilling in its intensity: the audience felt and avowed it. Why, then, it may be asked, was not the tragedy more frequently played? The answer is, because, in playhouse phrase, it" did not draw: that is, it did not bring the immense receipts necessary to pay the expenses of a leviathan establishment like Drury-lane. Were there no patents, were theatres classified, were the dramatist required to pay but the one company which he employed, the fate of "The House of Colberg" would have been marvellously different. But Mr. Serle (luckless man!) was The Surrey, under an enlightened manacalled upon to attract upwards of two hunger, might be rendered an excellent and dred pounds per night, in order to pay, in valuable property. The surrounding popuaddition to the tragic strength of the house, lation, comprising the wealthiest and most (the tools with which he worked,) the comic respectable families, is immense, were worand operatic companies. He had to bring thy means adopted to woo it to the theatre. in money for Mr. W. Farren, (who was These means are, new pieces worthy of the probably taking a hand at whist in Brompton times, a careful direction of the stage, and square,) Mr. Braham, Mr. Harley, Mr. no less careful actors. Dowton, and fifty others, of whose services dramas at the house very respectably perhe had not the slightest occasion; and be formed: this was, however, in the days of

The Olympic Theatre, for what it pretends to be, is very ably managed. (By the way, the honesty of its bills is a single instance of truth among the advertisements of

every other theatre.) Still we should be drama-capable of nothing better than the sorry were the drama-we mean the comic things produced under the auspices of (according to the courtesy of newspaper slang,) "the syren of Wych street." The Olympic dramas are literary pastry-puffs, and trifles, and almond-cakes: they are very well at one house, but we would not have every theatre turned into a pastrycook's.

We have seen good

« 이전계속 »