own eyes, unaided by the architect's circular, or the newspapers' authorized eulogy. We must be supposed to be sitting midway in the pit-and, so sitting, thus to describe what surrounds us.

The pit appears to be considerably elevated, almost inconveniently so for these days of expansive bonnets and rolling feathers. The seats are comfortably contrived for the public, being alternately placed with backs, so as to afford a front resting hold for those persons who sit on the plain benches, without making the passages inconveniently narrow. The effect of the boxes reminds us of that which Covent Garden had in its first bloom-the fronts being white and gold, and the backs a dark salmon colour, to throw out the ornamental with the utmost force. The private boxes are as they were in the old theatre. On the stage, the alterations appear the most remarkable the stage doors are removed-and the pit and orchestra are advanced nearer to the proscenium, reducing that terrible waste which used to stretch between the lamps and the green curtain. There are three magnificent boxes on each side, in the place of the old stage doors, rising from the stage itself to the ceiling, and edged with two huge glittering pillars, very magnificent, and very much out of taste. We remember the four old green pillars in Old New Drury's childhood; and we remember their beautiful unfitness; these pillars breed Lilliput actors, and make even Elliston himself look little.

The elevation, or whatever it is called, of the stage, strikes us as being too lofty-and the drop curtain representing a gigantic drapery, half folded up, and half falling down about the heels of some figures and pillars, is the greatest mass of comfortless confusion the eye was ever troubled with. It is like some vast clouded marble, and yields nothing of that repose which a drop curtain should afford in those pauses which relieve the active bustle of the drama. The ceiling is neat and beautiful; and the chandelier brilliant in the extreme. The effect of the house is certainly rich and imposing; and the defects upon which we have remarked are not of such a nature as to offend those who will nightly crowd

to be astonished and delighted. Mr. Elliston and Mr. Beazley are, after all, very surprising gentlemen; the former for having dared such an alteration, and the latter for having accomplished it.

We have done with the building, but we have not done with the manager and his company-and of these, or some of these, if we do not mistake ourselves, we must speak in terms which will not redound very greatly to their reputations. A great stir has been made in the theatrical world-the newspapers have babbled innumerable lies about managerial liberality and managerial zeal; and many favourite and celebrated performers have changed masters and houses. Το those who are deeply interested in the Drama's welfare, these agitations and alterations have been awful, as the throes of nations and the strife of armies to political enthusiasts. We have been anxious, from our suspicion of the total correctness of certain parties, tó get at the rights of things; and as we have taken great pains on the subject, we trust we shall be able to utter a few truths, which we firmly believe will go a fair way towards honestly informing the public on the subject. We should state that we are urged to the utterance of these facts, from an anxiety only to possess the public of the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; for we are disinterested persons in ourselves, and have no dramatic favours to ask at the hands of either manager.

It will not be out of our readers' minds, that Mr. Elliston, during last season, and the previous one, sailed in his dramatic bark with as wretched a crew as ever trod the Thespian deck; while Mr. Harris, at the other house (as it is called), went gaily on in his prosperous vessel, bravely manned and womanned, with " youth at the prow, and pleasure at the helm." The contrast was great and melancholy. While Mr. Elliston buffeted about in distress with his doleful company, Mr. Harris rode in Cleopatra's galley, and revelled in burnished gold. The end of this managerial venture on the part of Mr. Elliston was what even an inexperienced person could have foretold-Drury Lane was almost driven

to its pumps. The winter houses at length closed, and Mr. Elliston did not get upon a rock and die; no, he, with his wonted ardour,, set about planning some new scheme to better his fortunes. By a previous agreement with the committee, he had, we believe, bound himself to lay out a considerable sum in contracting and beautifying the theatre; but he now rushed, beyond his promise, into the arms of painters, carpenters, and bricklayers; and nothing but a complete amendment would satisfy him: in the way of radical reform, Elliston was a Thespian Waddington!— Drury Lane, in a few months, has become what we have described it! and to make a splendid dash at once, the manager determined on having a profusion of first-rate actors and actresses. How he has conducted himself in securing them, and how they have met his advances, we shall as concisely, and as fairly as possible, detail to our readers.

Covent Garden, however, we should say, appears in the meantime to have had its internal changes and disarrangements. Mr. Harris, by some ordering, has been displaced from all authority, or, to speak perhaps more properly, has been induced to secede from the dictatorship; and Mr. C. Kemble and two other gentlemen have commenced their reign. It seems to have unfortunately happened, that, with Mr. Harris's retirement, many of the performers appear to have had the power of retiring also, or of making new terms with the new government at a time too when Drury Lane was holding out lures for every tassel that chose "to rake' (to use a falconry and expressive term). Mr. Kemble came therefore to power, with little or no power at all. The enemy was at his gates. He found a concern of infinite magnitude, in difficulty and debt, and had to conciliate a set of ambitious, extravagant, and unruly persons, at the very moment when their ambition and extravagance were most pampered into disobedience. We know little, of course, about the resources of Covent Garden, but we cannot help thinking that the managers should have hazarded some adornments to meet the fascinations of its now elegant and beautiful rival. It is opened, however, with its old

dark red complexion, and meets its present difficulties with rather a gloomy and dispirited visage.

We wish to write dispassionately, for we know that only by temperate language can any history be usefully and intelligibly narrated. The darker paint of the one house, and the brighter paint of the other, are things of no peculiar concern beyond the moment; and we are quite sure that good plays well acted would draw,as well as the drama will in these days draw, in the most plain and unadorned house in England. A bad company, such a company as Mr. Elliston once selected, would "sink a navy:" Kean, and C. Kemble, and Macready, in one play, would carry { the town!

In the original patents of the the atres it was provided, that the one establishment should never engage the performers from the other; a provision which, though for one purposed salutary, was certainly, in its gene ral effect, violently oppressive and unjust. The managers found that this restriction was excessive, and in a short time they came to an unders standing (which in Mr.John Kemble's and Mr. Sheridan's time was reduced to a written agreement), that the one house should not engage, or me gotiate an engagement with, an actor! from the other, until such actor had/ quitted his former engagement for one year. This agreement was more reasonable, inasmuch as it guarded: against the invasion of managerial interests, which certainly ought fairly to be protected; but we think that to wards the actor such a restriction was hard, since it went to impose upon him a manager's terms, or a year's profitless and (in his profes sion) dangerous retirement. Wes question much how far this agree ment would be maintainable in a› court of law or equity; tending, as 1 it does, to affect the interests of inst different persons. Nevertheless, this understanding has never been violated since the time the patents were.. granted until the present. But we learn that it has now been suddenly abandoned and broken by one; establishment and under circumstances? not very creditable to its character.

We are led to believe, that the " managers of Covent-garden, finding some extravagance of demand in

1

some of their principal performers, and hearing certain reports on the subject of the long-standing agreement, waited upon the proprietor of Drury-lane, and had an interview with him. At that interview they requested to know, whether he had heard of the agreement, and whether as a Manager he recognised it. They showed to him the written agree ment, signed by Sheridan and Kemble, and others, which he had never before seen. His reply, we understand, was, that he had known of such an arrangement between the the atres and that he fully recognised it. The managers left him with content. In a few weeks several of their performers of the last season (of these we shall immediately have to speak more plainly) seceded from the managers of Covent-garden, and entered into articles with Drury lane!" Within a month, a little month," the Proprietor forgot "the understanding." Covent-garden could scarcely believe its eyes or credit its ears. THE LESSEE had promised to be faithful, but then he had signed away his promise. The managers lost a Singer, and she was netted by the other angler; they were astounded! They lost a Tragedian, he was dragged in by the expert opposition troller! They began to look to their tackle. A Comedian broke away, and was taken by the abominable Izaak Walton of the drama-Covent-garden could bear it no longer! The Managers wrote to the Proprietor on the subject and he gave them no answer. The fish were in the basket! They wrote to the Drury-lane Committee but we all know what sort of relief is to be obtained from public bodies: -the committee deliberated, and the secretary replied, that they "had the honour," and so forth--" and regretted," and so on- and begged to state, that they could not interfere," &c. and "had the honour to be." Here the matter rests between the houses. One establishment has maintained its honour, and lost part of its company-the other has dashed at riches with no great nicety about the means of obtaining them. This is, we believe, a true account of this part of the case and although we hold it most fair that there should be no agreement at all, still, VOL. VI.

if there be any, let it be mutually cancelled, and not artfully broken. An open stage for both or neither. Had Drury-lane said, "This is an oppressive understanding, and we give you notice that we will not hold to it," the truth would have been uttered, and no sacrifice of honourable conduct would have been made. But when it violated its pledge secretly, it certainly committed an act at once oppressive and discreditable.

But this infringement of a longstanding and recognised arrangement is not to be viewed only as affecting the character of those immediately concerned ;-it has tried, and we fear severely and fatally, that of several persons,-eminent Performers,-who have been hitherto looked upon by the public as grateful and ready servants, and unaffected and contented individuals. It is certainly a lamentable fact, that a defection in what are termed the higher powers is generally the key to the failures of innumerable minor defaulters, who, if it were not for the temptation held out above them, would have passed as unblemished and admirable personages. Had Drury-Lane resisted the desire of extreme superiority, and consequently been contented with such a company as it could, without any violation of understandings and promises, have fairly collected,-there would have been no extravagant Singer, rising in the notes of her salary, as in the notes of her voice, the moment she was at liberty to stipulate for new terms,--there would have been no exorbitant Tragedian setting a price upon his talents, after the fashion of the auctioneer, who puts the lot up at a sum which he well knows no one will nod to:-the madness of Performers is consequent upon the folly or misconduct of Managers; and we really think, that in the end the public will not be a whit the better for "the great union of talent" which is said to have been brought together at Drury-Lane. We will let our readers a little into the secret of the expectations and determinations of Actors and Actresses

and then we rather imagine our said readers will coincide with us in our opinions.

Miss Stephens (we commence with 2 L

this lady because gallantry gives her the preference) has long been known to the public as the first female singer on the boards of Covent-Garden Theatre:-indeed, she originally appeared on those boards, and on them acquired her fair and merited celebrity. Miss Stephens (we are about to utter what we believe to be a correct statement, and therefore use her name unreservedly) was latterly engaged at Covent-Garden at a salary equal to that of any performer in the house, and her agreement with the establishment terminated the last season. Before the conclusion of the season, as we understand, one of the new Managers requested the lady to say whether she was disposed to continue the aid of her great talents to the House, and if so, to name the terms upon which she would be willing to afford them. She expressed herself anxious to remain at Covent-Garden, offered to ratify her consent to so remaining, and left the Manager under the full assurance of her friendly determination. Almost immediately upon this, some one on her behalf (One of her family we believe) wrote to intimate that she would expect a higher salary-with the usual privileges which she had enjoyed under the previous management. Amongst these privileges was one of a very extraordinary nature, which was, that Miss Stephens should be permitted to read every Opera in manuscript before its characters were cast, and be allowed to choose whichever part she should conceive best suited to her. Now Miss Stephens is an excellent singer and a very pleasing actress; but if we were dramatic authors, we should think it a great hardship if the Manager were to say to us," You have taken great pains with that character which you designed for Miss M. Tree-but, being bound to submit the MS. to Miss Stephens, she has fixed upon the part for herself, and we have not the power to order it otherwise." To return however,-Miss Stephens required-we will not mince the matter, -Miss Stephens, who had enjoyed a

salary of 201. a week for playing thrice in each week,-required now an advance of 51. a week, in justice to her own abilities and views. The Proprietors of the Theatre were surprised, as well they might be, at this expectation (we indeed were surprised to hear of 201. being the weekly salary of any actress); but after several interviews, rather than lose so great and pleasant a performer and singer, they resolved upon meeting her expectations, although they determined upon meeting them in a different manner to that which she required. By the terms of several of the first actors' articles in the theatre, we understand it to be stipulated, that if any other performer's weekly salary is raised, the same benefit shall be extended to them. Thus, it will be seen, honour and profit go together. As the increase of Miss Stephens's allowance would, therefore, necessarily cause a similar and needless increase to others,-the Proprietors determined upon making up the amount to her by way of present or bonus-and this they intimated to her. This mode, however, would not do;-Miss Stephens was not to be satisfied. She must have the Salary. A remonstrance followed;-and then, on matters appearing likely to be settled, the lady's expectations take another flight-and lo! Miss Stephens requires 10l. a night! for three nights in the week, and to be paid at the same rate for any greater number of nights upon which her talents would be called into action. In case, therefore, of the run of an Opera, she might very probably receive 60l. a week!-We only wish Critics could turn round upon their Editors, and be paid thus for their acting at the theatres!-This offer on the part of Miss Stephens was of course declined, and Mr. Elliston immediately engaged her. He does not seem very nice about terms. We are really sorry that a lady whom we so much admire in her profession should subject herself to the opinions which this her line of conduct must naturally provoke.*

Mr. Liston, who has been long on the stage of Covent-Garden, had the power at the end of last season of renewing, as Lessees have it, and he demanded an increase-an extravagant increase-which, as we conclude, the proprietors could not or would not accede to. He has long held out a threat of retiring-and he continued this threat, we believe, and grounded his exorbitant notions upon it. The managers thought 201. a week, his regular salary, sufficient. He declared they had promised Miss Stephens more, and therefore he was entitled to an advance. We own we do not know how the Managers could resist that face! We would pay him almost any salary, monthly, if he could at all let loose his features over the pages of our Magazine. What a Paper he would be! How our readers would turn to the Drama! Indeed, if he would really countenance our work, we might defy all our periodical rivals, and carry off our capricious mistress, the Public, by the mere dint of expression!-He was, assuredly, extravagant in his demand upon the house for he should have remembered that the Comedian cannot bear up a play upon his own shoulders as the Tragedian often can, and that a Comedian is not such a star (in the theatrical phrase) as a Tragedian is always held to be! Still we do think Mr. Liston should not have been lost. If Miss Stephens was worth bowing to, Mr. Liston was worth absolute prostration. We think one rich farce, with one new Lubin Log, would have paid the surplusage over and over again. Mr. Liston, cannot, we apprehend, take Love, Law, and Physic, with him to Drury Lane-though we really think an Act of Parliament ought to be passed (since the removal of the man is remediless) to allow of the accompaniment, and avert from the public the serious consequences of a separation.

A few words upon Mr. Young,and we have done. This gentleman has out-heroded Herod: he has, undoubtedly, out-heroded Miss Stephens and Mr. Liston! Our readers will be disposed to smile, we think, when they hear the facts of the case, as they relate to this dull though respectable tragedian. Mr. Young, among others, stood at liberty to stay or go as he should determine; and the Managers of Covent Garden wrote to him on the subject, requesting to know his pleasure. The season before his two years' absence, he had been allowed, in some odd way or other, a weekly salary of 25l.; but not being satisfied with a proposed diminution to 207. (the theatre being unable to fee his attractions at such a rate as 251.) he absented himself for a time. But at length he returned, during the last year, to a 201. engagement. On the late application of the Managers, however, Mr. Young relapsed into his former opinions of himself, and not only asked for 251. again, but declared that he could not remain with even this salary at Covent Garden, except upon the express understanding that he was to be the CHIEF TRAGEDIAN. No one must jostle with him! His fame must be left alone, on the summit! He must sit under his laurels, quite alone, like Sir Thomas Erpingham!-A list was sent to him of such characters as would be conceded to him-and by performers of talent, very far superior to that of Mr. Young, the self-proposed Chief Tragedian of this metropolis. With the exception of Richard the Third, (which was most properly assigned to Mr. Macready) Mr. Young stood first in the cast, Mr. Macready se→ cond, and Mr. C. Kemble third! Mr. Young's justice to himself, as the phrase goes, would not allow him to allow others to approach the throne! He must "be king!"- and Cousin of Buckingham must, with the rest,