them in the order in which we have enumerated them above, and give the result of a careful examination of each in as short a compass as possible.

1. The circumstances of the life of Crichton are involved in considerable doubt. Until the appearance of the Memoir by Mr. Francis Tytler, there was very little known concerning him. The received opinion of his extraordinary versatility was hardly more than conjectural; nor did Mr. Tytler's researches satisfactorily establish as facts those numerous legends of his genius that have descended to us. It has even been questioned whether such a person ever lived: the place of his birth has been disputed, although it is now generally admitted to have been Scotland: and some erudite commentators have endeavoured to prove, upon testimony that was, to themselves at least, conclusive, that the attributes of several persons were concentrated in one to make up that ideal of excellence known as the "admirable Crichton." Mr. Ainsworth, in a preface that burthens and spoils the spirit of the romance, labours to establish a single point beyond Mr. Tytler's discoveries-the affiche of Aldus the younger: but there is a difficulty about the date, which carries him into a long dissertation of no earthly interest: and so that which really constituted the charm of the story-its uncertainty and mystery-is in a measure taken away by the pains which the author has employed to shew that it is no romance after all. His treatment of the subject, however, exhibits abundant proof that he believes the whole matter to be apocryphal, for he surrounds Crichton with such a group of theatrical personages, and places him in such a labyrinth of improbabilities, that the most credulous reader must close the work, marvelling whether such events ever happened. The court of Henri Trois, the brilliant and gallant knights of that day, the heartless Catherine de Medicis, conspiring against her own son, the gentle Margaret de Valois, and the wonderful Crichton, fill the canvass with figures of absorbing interest. But the actual thread of story is very slight, and were it not for the boldness of the colouring, the extravagance of the incidents, and the richness of the costume, there would be very little in the work to sustain the attention of the reader. It is written, however, with ability-the conception is goodthe filling in is undoubtedly wild, but clever; and it has the merit all throughout of exciting curiosity. It takes up the life of Crichton when he has attained the meridian of his triumphant youth, in a disputation at the University of Paris, and leaves him on the eve of marriage. This section of his career was enough for the purposes of romancehis learning and his gallantries would have overloaded the page, and Mr. Ainsworth has judiciously restricted himself to a few points of his many-sided character. Several lyrics are interspersed through the chapters-but few of them are of much value. The Literary Gazette says, that they are translations of poems written by Crichton. Would the learned critic be good enough to inform the public upon what authority he makes that statement?

2. Mr. Morier's former novels hardly prepared us to expect a work so simple, pure, and truthful as Abel Allnutt. In this fiction he ventures upon a field totally different from that which he occupied with so much success in Hajji Baba, where the oriental diction supplies so large a portion of the vraisemblance of the story. The tale of Abel Allnutt is thoroughly English-incidents, characters, and reflections, are all derived from the native soil of Great Britain. Abel is a country gentleman, who is tempted to sell out stock (his whole worldly substance) for the purpose of investing it in the Mexican mines: but the mines fail, and he and his family are ruined. Your true novelist, however, always has some expedient in store to rescue the virtuous before he comes to the close of his third volume, and by such an expedient a pretty niece makes a rich and happy match, and Uncle Abel and his single-hearted sisters are once more restored to prosperity. In this outline of the principal features of the narrative, there is not much action but the truthfulness of the novel lies in its admirable delineations of the individuals who move through it. Aunt Barbara is a portrait, every lineament of which is faithful to the life; and, indeed, all the persons of the drama are distinguished by particular strokes of truth that make an immediate

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impression upon the mind of the reader. We do not hesitate to say that this novel is one of the best that has been produced for many years past. It is written with requisite ease-its scenes are painted by the hand of a master who knows how to heighten the expression without exaggerating it—and, although in these times of calculation and enquiry, such innocent people as the Allnutts are not to be found, or but rarely, we are not yet so far advanced into the age of utility as to be incapable of appreciating the primitive elements of which their natures are composed.

3. The temptation which the translator of M. de Saintine's novel of Picciola seems to have had for

rendering that work into English was, its total dissimilarity from French novels in general. Now that appears to us to be hardly a sufficient reason for undertaking so troublesome a task, unless, in addition to its freedom from the vices of the French school, it possessed peculiar merits of its own. We suspect that the reception of the Picciola in this country will not repay the pains which the translator has evidently bestowed upon it. The tale is too scanty-the purpose too common-place and sentimental to satisfy the taste of our day, which craves stronger stimulants than this very amiable story. A French Count, who, having a large fortune, and nothing to do, becomes a free thinker in sheer idleness, and, embarking in a conspiracy against the government, is cast into prison. His loneliness is cheered by a solitary flower-the Picciola-which springs up amongst the stones of a little court yard. The universal truth that we must have something to love, is exemplified in this instance by the affection which the count lavishes upon this flower. The stones impede its growth, and the count, whose mind appears to be a little shaken by confinement,

petitions Napoleon for permission to remove them. His petition is conveyed by the daughter of a fellow-prisoner, and, after some difficulties, is successful. At last the count and his fellowprisoner are released, and the former marries the daughter of the latter. This is the whole substance of the tale. It is related with simplicitybut it is French simplicity, by which trifles are magnified into importance, and sermons are literally extracted from stones. The final moral is the Count's return to Christianity, and his discovery of the beauty and excellence of religious hope.

4. The Divorced details the difficulties which a lady who has once sacrificed her reputation finds in regaining her place in society. Marriage has in this instance atoned for the first fault, but the sins of the mother are visited upon her children, and the daughters of Lady Howard are obstructed in their progress through life, by the moral repulsion

with which, on their mother's account, they are met in society. There is a tone of religious feeling in this novel, which enhances the obvious truth it is calculated to enforce. It is not written with much power, but it is naturally conceived, and executed agreeably, if not forcibly.

5. The subject of Manuella is drawn from the war now raging in Spain. Some living characters are freely introduced into the fiction, which affects to develope some of the secrets of the revolution. This assumption of a licence to deal with contemporary history is highly reprehensible. It confounds truth and falsehood, and is not unlikely to have the effect of making erroneous impressions respecting subjects that cannot be treated with too much circumspection. The author is evidently well acquainted with Spain; but he possesses no skill as a novelist. The story is a confused phantasmagoria.

THE beautiful painting under this name, by the celebrated Collins, must be well known to the generality of our readers; and we have now to congratulate them upon an engraving worthy of the original. With every disposition to be critical, there occurs to us only one blemish; we allude to a slight smuttiness in those parts where the engraver

has endeavoured to give the rich deep tints so peculiar to the foliage of this artist; but the fault, like Othello's age, is "not much," and perhaps, after all, may have arisen not from the plate, but from the manner in which it has been worked off, so that the blemish may be confined to a single impression.

It is generally understood that the object of this society is to advance native talent by bringing its productions before the public; without some such encouragement it is quite plain that we can have no musical school of our own; for what inducement is there to long and patient labour, when every chance of fame or profit is denied? We would not therefore too minutely criticise the means where the object is so desirable, and if we find fault at all, it is merely with the view of stimulating the conductors to adopt a more wholesome system.

Our first objection is to the way in which their

music is executed; in this respect, though often good, and never bad, they are yet far from reaching that pitch of excellence which would command the public attention. Our next censure applies to the choice of compositions; and in this we much fear they are influenced by a system of favouritism, or, if not, they are in many instances directed by anything but a sound judgment. It might seem invidious to select any particular name or names to brand them with a stigma, and therefore having thrown out the hint we leave the conductors to make the most of it.

THE exhibition of this year shows a greater variety of excellence than usual, though there may not be any one picture that surpasses the chef-d'œuvres of the preceding seasons. The rooms, however, were too much crowded on the day of the private view to

allow of that minute and particular examination, which alone could justify our entering into details; we must, therefore, reserve this topic for another month, when we may find space and leisure to do justice to the subject.

ITALIAN OPERA.

THE King's Theatre has at length opened under the auspices of Laporte, the Buffa company having been transferred to him by Mr. Mitchell. As far as regards the operatic department, which ought to be the principal consideration, the opening affords very little to satisfy the reasonable wishes of the subscribers, or to put the slightest faith in the promises that are held out for the future. Instead of saying that the "school-master is abroad," we should rather think it is Joseph Hume that is abroad, and has inspired Laporte with the idea of this cheap company, amongst whom there is not one firstrate singer. Who, for instance, are his principals? Cartone, Bellini, Mddle. Blasis, Deval, and Signora Rosina di Angioli. Cartone may, perhaps, have the advantage over Rubini in action and appearance, but in every other respect he falls far short of him. Blasis, as a prima donna, though sufficiently studious to please, is yet more out of place. Of Deval, we can only say that, though a good musician, his voice is anything but agreeable; and science after all is but an indifferent substitute for the gifts of nature. The Italian Opera is an exotic in this country, a hothouse plant that must be nursed with care, and perfected at no little cost of money and attention. And have not the subscribers a right to expect all this from the manager of the Opera House? from the very nature of things, it is an aristocratic amusement; it is paid for as such, and the result should, in fairness, be commensurate with the outlay. The very circumstance of Laporte promising all manner of additions to his company, is a plain proof that he himself is sensible of its present inefficiency.

The Ballet-we speak only of the dancers-is upon a better scale, and so much better, that it would appear that the manager considers it the principal feature in his establishment. Duvernay, Montessin, Ellsler, and Mabille, form in themselves a phalanx of talent, that has not often been surpassed in any English theatre.

Of the panto

mimes themselves, little new can be said, seeing that, though they may bear novel names, they are, in point of fact, as old as our earliest recollections. Thus, a Ballet, said to be new, was brought out about a fortnight since, founded on Fra Diavolo ; but, in what did it differ from the thousand and one ballets that have gone before it? What is worse, we much fear that it is as little like to differ from the thousand and one ballets that may be expected to follow in its train; they roll on, like the waves of the sea; each the counterpart of the other, and all ending alike, in froth and foam. But, setting aside the question of novelty, we should like to know why the King's Theatre is so far behind the French opera in scenery, machinery, and decorations of every kind. Surely, we have the same, and perhaps better, means, if applied with the same skill and liberality. If Laporte does not choose to

attend to these matters, it may be worth while for the speculating patentees to consider the propriety of introducing a Ballet in one of their establishments; Drury Lane and Covent Garden stages are admirably adapted for such exhibitions.

DRURY LANE.

Fair Rosamond.-A better spirit, as regards the stage, seems to be arising amongst the public, and, in some measure, to have communicated itself even to the managers, though this last class of people has always been peculiarly slow to receive such impressions. There is a gradual disrelish showing itself for the school of French translators; the Buckstones and the Planchés are visibly, though slowly, sinking to their level; the exclusive mania for foreign music is on the decline, and that a native composer may enter the lists with the German and Italian artists, and find no unwilling audience. The change is not less certain, because, as yet, it shows itself imperfectly; and right sure are we, that if the press will but do its duty honestly and manfully, for the next twelvemonth, we shall have an opera of our own, and a new form of drama in harmony with the mind and habits of the age.

appears

But to bring about this desirable result, every effort of original talent, with all its faults and imperfections, must be encouraged; the wretched drivellers who trade in the trash of the French minor theatres, and occupy the market to the exclusion of real talent, must be put down with a strong and steady hand; and even those spirits of a better order, that waste their t me and talents in servile imitations of our old drama, must be taught, that poetry should not be a faint and soulless echo of other times, but a faithful and vivid reflex of the age in which they live. In the meantime, we think the good cause will be more effectually served by pointing out the errors of those who are working in its behalf, than by overloading them with false and injudicious praises.

The production of Fair Rosamond is a bold effort on the part of Mr. Barnett, to naturalize opera upon the English stage. But has he shown judgment in this effort? We think not, and his partial failure for a partial failure it is, in spite of his beautiful music-is attributable to simple and obvious causes, that need only to be pointed out, to be immediately admitted and understood. He has set out with the idea, that an opera to be perfect must be strictly modelled upon the socalled book, or libretto of the Germans and Italians. Now this we hold to be an egregious fallacy. It is a fact, of which Mr. Barnett can hardly be ignorant, that with the Italians particular portions only of every opera are the subjects of attention; while, for the rest of the evening, the audience are as much at home in their own boxes, as an English party in their own drawing-rooms. To them, therefore, the insipidity of the book itself is

After

a matter of no consequence, while our patient neighbours, the Germans, come to the same result from the very opposite extreme in their dispositions; his powers of endurance are beyond anything to be met with in this country, as every one must know, who is at all familiar with the German dramatists; he listens to music, as he would to a problem in Euclid; it delights not his ear, but his head; with him, it is the science of beautiful sounds, and with his usual extravagance of fancy, he will find in unideal notes a language and expression. It would be going, perhaps, too far to say that the English are better or wiser than their neighbours; but we may safely aver, that they differ from them in their thoughts, habits, and feelings, and no where is this difference more visible than in their theatres. As regards music in particular, they do not love it for itself alone; it is with them only a secondary consideration; indeed, almost as much subordinate in the drama as the efforts of the painter. all, it may be a question whether he is not right; but, right or wrong, such is the fact, and it behoves every composer to be aware of it in the outset. However beautiful may be his composition, it will never obtain a permanent place upon the stage, unless it be married to a drama, if not of talent, at least of interest. This is the rock on which Fair Rosamond has been shipwrecked; the story is without interest,- -we might almost have said without a single incident,-making it evident that the drama was written for the music, and not the music for the drama; song follows song, scena follows scena, in apparently endless succession, all beautiful as to the music, but all without any aim or object. That the author could have written much better, is not only possible, but highly probable, for the dialogue is occasionally neat and pleasing; and upon the whole, we are more inclined to attribute his failure to this one fatal error of judgment, rather than to any want of dramatic talent. He has chosen to write an Italian opera in English; and this, of all things, was least calculated to please the taste-or want of taste, as he may think it-of a British audience.

Of the music, we can only speak in terms of unqualified admiration; it is throughout beautiful and scientific in the highest degree; and as far as regards both the band and the singers, ample justice was done to the composition. Phillips exerted himself to the utmost, and when has he ever done so without producing a corresponding effect on the audience? Giubelei, Seguin, and Wilson, though with less opportunity, were, each in his own more limited sphere, equally earnest in their efforts. Thus, notwithstanding the enormous length of the opera, and it was not over till half-past eleven o'clock, the applause was unceasing, a plain proof that the music is not only scientific, but contains in itself the elements of popularity. Like all good music, it requires to be heard a second, or even a third time, before it can be truly relished, and then it fixes itself upon the ear and memory, so as not to be easily forgotten. Amongst

the pieces most likely to please the general taste, and to lie upon every piano-forte, is an air song, and admirably sung by Phillips, in the first act; it is full of melody, and we should think not so difficult of execution as some airs in the piece, to which, otherwise, we should be inclined to give the preference.

Miss Romer, both as an actress and a singer, shone out pre-eminently in the part of Fair Rosamond; and so splendid did the music appear from her brilliant execution, that we could not but wonder what demon of caprice had instigated Miss Shirriff to reject the character. The plaudits, so liberally bestowed on her fair rival, and so richly deserved, will, we hope, teach this lady a lesson of moderation, for, with all our admiration of her talents, it is scarcely possible to tolerate this undue assumption of authority. No class of the community is paid so well, or works so little for that pay, as the singers; and the least they can do in return is, like. Ariel, to be obedient to command, and do their spriting gently. But the managers,-poor devils! -have evidently a hard time of it; they hold in their hands a worse than barren sceptre, for it not only does not command respect, but it invites insult, and they who carry it, seem to be in the predicament of the refractory urchin, who carries the rod intended for his own chastisement; every invidual of the least pretension appears to think himself, or herself, fully entitled to wrest the said sceptre from the royal grasp, and try with it the thickness of the managerial skull, at the least provocation from vanity or avarice. Not but that the managers have from other causes deserved all the cudgellings they may happen to receive; their offences are no doubt manifold,-as plentiful as Falstaff's blackberries, but thenthey do not quietly come under the cognisance of their liege subjects. For our own parts, we always find too much occasion to flagellate these tinsel monarchs; and, in the present case, Master Bunn has especially deserved the rod. His impudent puffs had led us to expect that Fair Rosamond would be brought out with at least as much cost as that wretched abortion, the Jewess, which, of all the translations foisted on the public, was decidedly the worst. The reality, however, limped as usual far behind the promise; nothing could be more miserably got up from beginning to end-the parsimony being exactly on a par with the taste that directed the scanty outlay; at no time was the stage full, the coronation was a mere mockery, a farthing rushlight piece of business, and the morris-dance was infinitely inferior to such exhibitions at the Adelphi and the Cobourg. It should seem that the whole of Mr. Bunn's idea of arrangement consists in throwing open the side of the stage, and erecting a few trumpery booths, such as are seen at any fair. Such are the blessed effects of monopoly, which has placed Bunn and Osbaldistone at the head of two national establishments.

BIRTHS.

On the 20th ult., Lady Elizabeth Thackeray, of a son. On the 28th ult., at East Sheen, Lady Charlotte Penrhyn, of a daughter, still born. On the 27th ult., Lady Cottenham, of a daughter. On the 25th ult., at Plymouth, the Lady of Sir H. Blackwood, of a daughter. On the 23rd ult., at Thornham, Suffolk, the Hon. Lady Augusta Henniker, of a son. On the 24th ult., in South Audley Street, the Lady Georgiana Milford, of a son. On the 5th, in Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, the Lady of Archdeacon Robinson, of a

daughter. On the 6th, at Hackney, the Lady of the Rev. T. England, of a daughter. On the 6th, in Dover Street, the Lady of the Rev. E. Lance, of a son. On the 3rd, at Farmington Lodge, the Lady of H. E. Waller, Esq., of a son. On the 4th, at Wanlip Hall, the Lady of Sir G. Palmer, Bart., of a daughter, still born. On the 6th, in Saville Row, the Lady of Dr. Bright, of a daughter. On the 7th, in Arlington Street, Mrs. E. Moore, of a son. On the 4th, in Chester Street, Grosvenor Place, Mrs. E. Perry, of a daughter. On the 2nd, in Park Lane, the Lady of W. Y. Stuart, Esq. M. P., of a son. On the 6th, the Wife of the Rev. R. L. Brown, of a son. On the 11th, at Kensington, the Lady de l'Isle and Dudley, of a daughter. On the 5th, at Duddingstone House, N. B., Lady Harriet Baillie Hamilton, of a son. On the 16th, the Lady of H. F. Talbot, of Lacock Abbey, Wilts, of a daughter. On the 17th, at Brighton, the Lady of Sir R. D. King, Bart., of a daughter. On the 9th, at Florence, the Hon. Mrs. Irby, of a son. On the 19th, in Hereford Street, the Lady of John Ellis, Esq., of a daughter.

MARRIAGES.

On the 23rd ult., at St. Mary's, Bryanstone Square, by the Rev. Mr. Charlton, Jackson Villiers Tuthill, Esq., 17th Regiment, only son of Thomas Edward Villiers Tuthill, Esq., of Ballinastone, county Limerick, and of Rathmines, county Dublin, to Jane Anne, second daughter of Robert Porter, Esq., of Upper Seymour Street, Portman Square. On the 27th ult., at Barwell, Leicestershire, George William Key, Esq., 15th Hussars, to Jane Frances Matilda, second daughter of John Pearson, Esq. On the 28th ult., at Marylebone Church, the Rev. Richard Mason, of Petersfield, to Miss Higginson, of the Isle of Wight. On the 25th ult., Henry Robinson,

Esq., British Vice Consul at Petras, to Anne, widow of the late John Kettlewell, Esq. On the 6th of December, 1836, at Malta, Lieut. George N. Bingman, Royal Engineers, to Miss Jane Godfrey, only daughter of the late Captain John Godfrey, late of the Royal Artillery. On the 1st, at Ardbrunan Church, Captain H. Philpotts, 29th

Reg., son of the Lord Bishop of Exeter, to Anne

E. Waller, daughter of J. Young, Esq., of Philpotstown House, Meath. On the 1st, at Boath, D. Milne, 24th Reg., Bombay, N. I., son of the late Colonel Milne, 19th Foot, to Helen Paticia,

daughter of the late Sir J. Dunbar, of Boath, Bart., Capt. R.N. On the 6th, at Authony, Right Hon. Lord Lisle, to Henrietta Anne, Cornwall, the Hon. J. A. Lysaght, son of the

daughter of the late J. Church, Esq., of Bedford lebone, H. Barrett, Esq., A. M. Inner Temple, to Place. On the 13th, at Christ Church, St. MaryElizabeth, daughter of the late W. Wallis, Esq.,

of Isham, Northamptonshire.

DEATHS.

On the 18th of January, at St. Petersburgh, His Excellency Vice Admiral Sir Thomas Candler, of the Russian Imperial Navy, in his 71st year. On the 3rd inst., at Flower Place, Surrey, the Rev. H. W. Neville, aged 33. On the 16th ult., at Edinburgh, Mrs. Reed Cunninghame, of Auchen Larvie. On the 5th, at Branches Park, Suffolk, Elizabeth Anne, daughter of H. Usborne, Esq., aged 19. On the 2nd, at Brompton, Kent, Sarah, the wife of Captain W. M. Burton, Royal Marines, aged 71. On the 5th, at Brighton, Lydia, relict of Colonel J. Cameron, and daughter of the late G. F. Kinloch, Esq. On the 5th, in Park Crescent, R. Carr, Esq., aged 68. On the 6th, at Clifton, Mrs. Dorothea Whitmore, aged 76. On the 8th, in Bryanstone Square, W. Miller, late of the Island of Jamaica. On the 10th, at Deane Hill, General Sir H. T. Montressor, K. C. B., and G. C. H., Colonel of the 11th Foot. On the 10th, at his house, York Terrace, Regent's Park, H. T. Colebrooke, Esq. On the 10th, at Harfield Park, Major General Sir H. F. Cooke, K.C.H. On the 13th, at Tonnarton, Gloucestershire, Charlotte Cecilia Anne Elizabeth, daughter of Lord and Lady William Somerset. On the 15th, at Chapel Street, Grosvenor Place, H. A. Douglas, Esq., brother of the Marquis of Queensberry. At Brighton, on the 20th inst., three days after her confinement, the wife of Sir Richard King, Bart.