five-act comedy, which has succeeded, and deserves the good fortune that has attended it. It has been produced at the Haymarket, and has already had a run of several nights. We witnessed it upon the tenth performance, and it went off admirably, to a numerous and, apparently, very select audience. Our readers will excuse us for not giving a sketch of the plot. They must be content with our assuring them that it displays considerable ingenuity, and is sufficiently original. The characters are drawn with force, and their individuality is very happily preserved. Some may fancy that they have seen their prototypes-for instance, there is an old General who may remind a play-goer of Sir Anthony Absolute; but was there never more than one such character in the world?-Had not Sir Anthony his prototype? The only merit which a dramatist can boast of in such a matter, is that of having been the first to draw a particular species of human character, the individuals of which compose a class more or less numerous. The style of delineation is the thing. Is it done in the same way? No. Then question not the merit of the performance, provided it be well done. There is not a scene in this comedy which does not possess merit; the dialogue is lively, pleasant, and sufficiently enriched with point-and the variety of character introduced presents abundance of relief. You have Lord Marston, a statesman, capitally supported by Mr. Cooper; General Lumley, a blunt, good-humoured, hasty, gentlemanly old soldier, sustained to the life by Mr. Farren; Lord Polter, an exclusive, extremely effective in the hands of Mr. Brindal; Lady Hampton, a supercilious, overbearing, morality-affecting lady of quality, hit off to a T by Mrs. Glover; Lady Honoria Howard, the coquette, a very charming provoking one, in the fair hands of Miss Taylor; and Mrs Starchwell, an hypocritical governess, cleverly personated by Mrs. Tayleure-and no two characters alike among the whole. Some of the scenes are particularly happy; we shall instance that between Amelia, who passes herself for a governess, and Lady Hampton, and Mrs. Starchwell. Mrs. Gore deserves well of that class of meritorious females, whose limited circumstances oblige, and whose qualifications enable them to undertake, the office of the mental parent in families of affluence and distinction. 'Tis a striking, as well as a just satire upon the insolent assumption which treats such individuals with slight and keeps them at a distance, as well as upon the mean and heartless parsimony that doles out their remuneration. The fourth and fifth acts of this comedy are the most effective. The preceding ones are deficient in bustle; in fact the plot hardly advances a step till you come to the fourth act, up to which you have little more than preparations for action. Mrs Gore will doubtless avoid this defect in her next drama. In a large theatre, where it is more difficult to hear, the success of her work would have been questionable. The dialogue alone saves her, for so far, and it is dangerous to trust chiefly to that. As we have already said, her fourth and fifth acts are very good. There is abundance of incident, situation and passion in them, and they tell powerfully.

But she has crowded too many characters into her dramatis personce. Hence you are scarcely interested for some that ought to have stood more prominent than they do. Amelia for instance-how much might have been made of that character! How the effect of the discovery in the last scene would have told upon the audience, had Amelia been placed a little more in the fore-ground. We should earnestly recommend the fair dramatist to study simplicity of action in her next, more than she appears to have done in her present production.

One thing we were hardly pleased with the strictures upon the importation of French manners, &c. It may all be very right, but it is scarcely courteous. It is true the audience applauded; but we shrugged our shoulders as they did so. John Bull should be a little more civilized now-a-days than to clap his hands when a compliment is paid to him, especially at the expense of his neighbours! Nor is it in keeping with his proverbial hospitality-now that he and the Mounseers are upon visiting terms, and exchange calls so frequently

-to put an affront upon them in his own house. We enter our protest against national reflections in any place, or upon any occasion.

We should have been glad too had Fitzalbyn been excluded from the list of the characters. We are certain that such a man could never have got into the company of gentlemen, or have been entrusted by an honourable and high-bred man with the conduct of an affair of honour. Our dramatists hitherto, whether from kindness or conviction, have, with scarcely a single exception, availed themselves of the Irish character to delineate the innoffensive, if not the attractive traits of human nature, and as we are wedded by many pleasant ties to the Green Island, we should have been proud to say that a single fair word from a lady was worth the testimony of the whole of them.

The Haymarket is a delightful little theatre; you see so well in it, and hear so well in it; and there is always so much in it that is worthy of being heard and seen. The company of the present season is a very capital one, and, so far as we have observed, the performances are excellently got up. A fair orchestra -actors for comedy, opera, and farce-short pauses between the acts-much comfort in the front of the house-every thing going off smoothly. One thing, however, we quarrel with-the late hours. Another also, playing John of Paris before a five act comedy. 'Tis like falling-to upon fritters before solid meat. Is it the custom? Do the public look for it? If so, then with the public rest the blame; 'tis a pernicious practice to us; it was ten minutes past eleven before the comedy was over, and there was My Grandmother to come. We should not have waited for her were she the dearest old lady in the world! But we are greatly pleased with the Haymarket, and particularly so with its clever new play.

MUSIC.-ITALIAN OPERA.

THE Italian Opera season draws to a close, and many a month will pass before we are again called upon to exercise our critical duties with regard to this most fashionable of the public entertainments. It will therefore appear necessary that we should speak more fully on the subject than we have on previous occasions. We shall point out a few of the more glaring errors and abuses which militate against permanent success at the King's Theatre.

Monsieur Laporte's lease expires this year, and we really doubt whether he has made a profitable speculation, considering that in the earlier part of the season the house was very indifferently attended. Whoever may be Laporte's successor, we would strongly impress upon his mind the absolute necessity of introducing a total reform in the various branches of the establishment, as the system upon which matters have been hitherto conducted is, in our humble apprehension, one the most pernicious and unfair that can easily be conceived. Though in the habit of frequenting the King's Theatre, we may safely aver that we have not seen or heard an opera satisfactorily performed. Let not the reader be startled at such an assertion. The effect produced by a theatrical representation depends more on the nice harmony of the various component parts than on isolated passages of excellence. The primary, indeed the only care of a manager, has been for several successive years to engage three or four stars, which might display their refulgent beams at different periods of the season, not caring a straw how indifferently every other department might be filled. Nothing can be conceived more pitiable than the singers engaged to perform the subordinate parts in an opera. There are some, as Castelli, De Angeli, Deville, &c., who are fixtures in this theatre, and seem to have

gained a sort of hereditary right to commit these musical delinquencies, by the length of time which they have been permitted to minister annoyance to the public. But perhaps the public is not much annoyed, since it is now well understood that when one of the above-mentioned gentry, or any other of the like calibre is on the stage, the audience may beguile the tedious moments by a desultory chat, until the re-appearance of the well-graced actors." This is not, however, the best of the thing; managers, aware of the inefficiency of such singers, think to remedy the evil by curtailing their parts as much as possible, which is something like making a man for the coat, instead of the coat for the man. But if the secondary parts of the opera are bad, what shall we say of the chorus singers? Can it be credited, that, in the most expensive theatre in the world, the chorus department is filled up by persons who would not be tolerated in a third-rate Italian Opera company on the continent! But how can it be otherwise? The pay allowed to the poor wretches is perhaps just enough to keep skin and bone together, but it is totally inadequate for persons who are expected to contribute to the general effect of an opera by their musical acquirements. This is an evil consequent on the pernicious system to which we have alluded. The Lions are so much pampered, that there is scarcely any food left for the small deer-or, to speak plain, the prima donna, the tenore, and the buffo, demand, and obtain, such exorbitant prices for their services, that managers, to prevent the ruin which stares them in the face, are obliged to reduce the salaries of inferior performers to the most pinching scale. We cannot dwell on the subject without feelings of disgust and indignation. Strenuous suppporters as we are of first-rate talent, we cannot but protest loudly against the inordinate pretensions of musicians and dancers, whose appetite seems to wax the more gluttonous the more inordinately they cram. The fact is, that the King's Theatre will never be able to present an instance of a completely successful season, until a man is found of sufficient nerve to battle vigorously against the ridiculous pretensions of the

stars.

But, observes one, "they will not come unless they obtain' their demands." Well, then, we can supply a remedy-let them stay away; let the King's Theatre remain in obscurity for one or two seasons, and we are confident that on the third the stars will very readily consent to emit their effulgence as before. People of course will continue to demand as long as they find their extortions are complied with, but they will ultimately alter their ideas if they discover that, unless they take less, they are likely to fare worse: for, let the public know, that nowhere are singers and dancers so well paid as in England.

With regard to the performances of the season, we have already adverted in a former number to the want of novelty for which the Opera House has been conspicuous. We have, at last, a composition of considerable pretensions, an Opera semi-seria, which was expected to produce no common effect, and one, indeed, of which report had spoken in very flattering terms before it made its appearance in London. Anna Boleyn is said to have been expressly composed for Pasta and Rubini, and a great musical treat was accordingly anticipated; added to this there was to be a debut on the same night, that of Madame Gay, so that the novelty was as great as the anticipation of delight. Anna Boleyn was performed, and met with a favourable reception. Next morning several of the papers spoke in very flattering terms of the composition: almost all had something to say in praise of it. But this will not prevent us from giving an opinion of Donizetti's opera, which may appear singular. The Atlas-the musical critiques of which are generally characterized by a sense of justice and correct taste-has, in our humble apprehension, afforded the best account of Anna Boleyn. Perhaps the criticism is somewhat too severe; but this is excusable, inasmuch as the ridiculous praise bestowed by others on the composition might naturally excite the indignant zeal of more competent and impartial judges. We went to the King's Theatre on the "tip-toe of ex

pectation ;"-the overture commenced, and we formed pleasing anticipations. The first bars gave promise which, alas! was not to be fulfilled; and the bold, full, and grand style which we thought we could already discern in the work, dwindled, before the allegro began, into sheer common place. The whole opera is of a very mediocre description: there is a poverty in the accompaniments which is seldom to be found in modern composers. Feebleness is the characteristic feature of the work; and though here and there we caught an agreeable melody, it was insufficient to make amends for the general sterility of the opera. Besides this, reminiscences of other compositions were constantly intruding on our ear, so as to remind us that Donizetti to his other sins united that of being a considerable plagiarist. The performance of Anna Boleyn, as far as Pasta and Rubini were concerned, was almost unexceptionable. We never saw Rubini to greater advantage, indeed, in our admiration we almost forgot his decided predilection for ornament. Pasta was admirable her Anna is fully equal to Medea or Semiramide; and this circumstance makes us regret that her extraordinary powers should be employed to uphold inferior ability. Pasta does real injury to the cause of music by the very excellence she displays in such poor compositions as Medea, and the one which it is our duty at present to condemn. But so it is. Pasta electrified the audience in her principal scenes, especially the one with Jane Seymour; and the public, in the abundance of their pleasure, lost sight of the faults of the composer. Of the rest of the performers we have but little that is agreeable to report. The debutante, Madame Gay, is what may be called an inoffensive singer. She neither calls for much censure nor much praise.-She will fill the secondary parts respectably. The tone of her voice is pleasing; and, with regard to musical skill, she is greatly superior to Miss F. Ayton and Co. We were sorry to see our favourite Lablache in the character of Henry the Eighth : in our opinion the part is totally unsuited to him, except indeed so far as bulk is concerned; but as that is precisely the very last thing we should admire in Lablache, we are free to confess that we were mortified to find the immortal Geronio transformed into a sorry specimen of absurd royalty and pompous stupidity. Before we dismiss the subject we cannot but signify our surprise at the ingenuity displayed by the author of the Libretto, in disfiguring the most authentic facts of English history.

Another new opera, La Sonambula, was to have been played on Thursday, the 21st inst., but postponed, it is said, by the indisposition of Mademoiselle Taglioni. We wonder what part she is to sing, or are the lady's legs so very attractive that the King's Theatre cannot go on without them? Turn we now to other matters.

In our last number we made some passing remarks on Miss Inverarity, which have been taken up by the Tatler, who has gallantly broken a lance in compliment to the lady; we readily admit that Miss Inverarity's cause could scarcely be consigned to better hands than those of the kind and able editor of that paper, but still we adhere to our opinion.-We said we did not think the lady possessed of the requisites to make a genuine prima donna, by which we meant not as the Tatler gratuitously supposes, the singer who leads at a theatre, but one whom a combination of talents, natural and acquired, place in the very first rank of the profession. If the assumption of the Tatler were true, we should also admit that Wallack, Warde, and Abbot, are genuine tragedians, because, in the absence of better actors, they have played the principal business in tragedy. That Miss Inverarity is, at this moment, the most pleasing singer on the English boards, (Mrs. Wood excepted), we are ready to allow, but this circumstance does not constitute her a genuine prima donna. For the rest, what we have said amounts to nothing more than a single opinion, and we would be the first to rejoice and confess our error, should Miss Inverarity become a first-rate dramatic singer.

EPISTLES BY DE FOE, JUNIOR.-No. I.

TO THE REVEREND REUBEN MANSFIELD, HOLLYHOCK RECTORY, SUFfolk.

In accordance, my friend, with your suggestions, and in concurrence with the opinions of sundry others, our well-beloved cousins and councillors, we have deemed it meet to doff the thread-bare and pedagogical garments of a literary journalist, and to give the world periodical assurance of our sovereign existence in the unconstrained and elegant guise of a familiar, yet not undignified nor uninstructive, correspondent. To the companion of our youth and friend of our manhood, we address the first of a series of Epistles, which, when the present generation of men and tomes shall have been reduced to kindred elements, may haply stimulate to their continuance the heirs of a loftier knowledge than that which clarifies our vision in this ante-meridian year of the nineteenth century

We are now enjoying the solemn luxury of the hour formerly appropriated to wizards and witches, yawning church-yards, and dead-surrendering graves, but which, in these unghostly times, is more especially set apart for the vigils of editorial wights, and the oscitancy of Knights, Citizens and Burgesses in Parliament assembled. Before us stand a band of authors," sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought," each presenting a tributary offering, for which he woos our regard ere that the advance of Morpheus, with his mace of lead, shall have imparted a temporary increase of the effect of the same ponderous material in the works that solicit our inspection. We select from the groupe a "Memoir of Sebastian Cabot," which is entitled to special notice, both from the country of its author, and the character of its statements. It is singular, and not much to our credit, that we owe to an American gentleman the vindication of the hardlyearned fame of the Bristol navigator, who was second only to Columbus, and who has been a martyr both to foreign slander and English blundering. Mr. Biddle, with an honourable enthusiasm, has directed a battery of facts against certain misquotations and misrepresentations in Barrow's "Chronological History of Voyages," in the "History of Maritime and Inland Discovery,” vol. ii. of "Lardner's Cyclopædia," and in vol. i. of the " Edinburgh Cabinet Library." Determined to take nothing at second-hand, where recourse could be had to original documents, he has made Cabot's whole career the subject of judicious and laborious investigation; and the result, presenting, as it does, a lamentable exposure of literary delinquency, goes far to shake one's faith altogether in the general herd of productions that issue from the press.

The plebeian word whack, now in current use among the initiated, aptly indicates the quality of most of the publications of the day. By this esoteric term is understood that class of books which are less the result of mental than manual industry, in whose fabrication the scissors supersede the quill, and the paste-pot the ink-stand. Mere book-making seems to have reached such a pitch of late, that a due acquaintance with the subject on which he writes is no longer considered a necessary preliminary to the formation of an author. This convenient and labour-saving principle, has been acted upon by the compilers of many popular productions who, implicitly adopting the errors as well as the facts of preceding writers, ludicrously discourse of original authorities which they have never consulted, and argue about dates and occurrences, with respect to which they are most profoundly ignorant. The following are instances of the historico-whack system, as anatomized in the Memoirs of Cabot.

Mr. Barrow, in his "Chronological History of Voyages," talks of an expedition (of which, indeed, he says, so little is known as to induce a suspicion