Original Patchwork.

ORIGINAL PATCHWORK.

THE TOILFT TABLE.-Every day seems to deduct from the charms of female beauty. If Apelles were now alive, he could find no model for bis Venus. If Helen was set off with false teeth, false hair, and certain false protuberances, Troy would yet stand still in its pillared pride and glory,and Homer would never have written the Iliad. The Grecian heroines were too lavishly endowed by the profuse gifts of nature, to require the glare of paint, or the imposition of padding. Their beauty shone in its own inherent loveliness, without the artifice of adventive ornament. Formerly, the toilette-room was the great theatre, where ladies, who scorned the borrowed aid of art, achieved their greatest conquests. The moment a lover, in the "olden time,” surprised his fair one at her dressing table, and witnessed with impassioned rapture, snowy breasts, half covered with silken tresses of native growth, and hanging in graceful festoons, over her well-formed bust, like the fine fibres and tindrels of flowers, enwreathing a vase of porphyry, his heart was instantly captivated, and his affections enslaved by these seducing charms. But now, the dark secrets of the toilette are kept by the New-York ladies as inviolably as that of their intrigues. The door of the dressing-room is cautiously bolted, and every precaution resorted to, lest inquisitive man might glance at the occult celebration of the Eleusinian mystery of fastening mock teeth, of painting wrinkles, adjusting curls, and filling up the defects of nature--and thus impose on credulous admiration, fictitious limbs of buckram and padding, for that elegant symmetry of figure, which can only be cast in the plastic mould of nature. The milliners of Broadway are so anxious for employment in this counterfeit statuary, that they immodestly exhibit the materials which make up a stuffed woman in their windows, and thus, like Morgan, the exposer of masonry, divulge all the arcana that ought only be known to those who are initiated in the mysteries of the fair sex. This show dissolves the illusion of many a lover, who despairs, after seeing it, of ever finding a lady with a skin of lilies and roses, or with a dimpled mouth of pearly teeth,with a head adorned with native ringlets, or a leg graced with an ankle as finely moulded as that of the Venus de Medici. Artificial charms can never win the heart, or operate with any power on pride and passion. Love's bow is no longer strung with the hair of Apollo;-his keenest dart is shot from curls, of which the shrouded dead have been despoiled. The pouting mouths of our fashionable belles, are studded with teeth that once belonged to a sable daughter of Africa, and the padding that now warms the breast of a New-York beauty, "once warmed a bear."

Imperious fashion seems to be retrogading to the ages of barbarism; to that period, when the ancient Britons were as solicitous to have their skins punctured with the figures of flowers and animals, as the American females are now to set off an artificial countenance with cosmetics and paints. In those times of female innocence, when the pure ore of beauty was stamped in the mint of nature,-when a lover had unloosed a fawnskin mantle, that partially covered the globular breasts of his fair one, he was struck and fascinated with the snowy and dazzling whiteness of her "downy doves of love,” and his inflamed heart became impatient to take sanctuary under their swan-like pinions. As a token of his devoted attachment, he presented to her the wild boar, the moosedeer, and the wolf. The pursuit and capture of those animals, were his best claim to female beauty, and to the reward of her favour. She, in her turn, admired his strongnerved limbs-his adroitness in darting the javelin, and wielding the hunting-spear; as well as his trophies of war, and the spoils of victory, and the chase, with which he was clad, when he wooed, thus, the maiden of his love.

and credit, under Hugh O'Neil, in Spain; and as a military officer, he was as intrepid as he was skilful. Having received from Cardinal Richlieu, then governing France, the strongest assurances of support, he proceeded to his native land, and found no difficulty in rousing the lords of the pale to arms, and inflaming them with a sense of the injuries they had suffered." O'DRISCOL.

"O'Moore's victory at Julianstown, gave fresh hopes to the Irish, while it struck the Lords Justices in Dublin with dismay. Lord Gormanstown, after O'Moore's success, who took the lead among the Catholic nobles of the pale, issued an order to the sheriff of Meath, to collect the inhabitants of this county. The Lords Fingal, Gormanstown, Slane, Louth, Dunsany, Trimbleston, Netterville, together with about one thousand principal gentlemen, assembled on an eminence, called the hill of Crofty, near Trim. Here O'Moore harangued the convocation, explained his views, and eloquently invoked the Lords to take up arms for the maintainance of the King's prerogative, and to make the subjects of Ireland as free as those of England." LELAND.

DR. JOSEPH WARTON.-The distinguished author of the essay on the "Genius and writings of Pope," was noted for his obsequious condescension, and affable politeness to ladies. He was never known even to frown in the presence of a female. His devotion to the fair sex was, however, on one occasion, put to a test that would tire the patience of a stoic, and ruffle the smooth temper of a laughing philosopher. He was in- . vited one day, by a gentleman in Winchester, to dine at his house with a fashionable party, among whom, by way of inducement, he told the Doctor there was to be a young lady who was nearly related to Pope. The Doctor rejoiced exceedingly at an invitation which would introduce him to a relative of the great poet, from whom he fondly expected to derive some valuable private information. Incited by all the eagerness which so strongly characterized him, he, on his introduction, immediately seated himself close to the lady, and, by inquiring her consanguinity to the illustrious bard, entered at once on the subject;-when the following amusing dialogue occurred :

Lady.-Pray, Dr. Warton, did not you write a book about my cousin Pope? Doctor. I have, Madam, but I wanted materials, which I flatter myself I shall now be so fortunate as to procure from your kind politeness?

Lady.-La! sir, I should be delighted to see it; for it must be vastly clever and entertaining. Did not my relative write some fine plays, Sir?

Doctor, (with evident surprise.)-I never heard, Madam, but of one dramatic attempt. Perhaps, you, my dear lady, will make the world of letters indebted to you, for ushering into light, the dramatic manuscripts of Pope; your doing so will immortalize your

name.

Lady.-Oh, Lord! Sir, I am in error-you will pardon me, for I meant one Mr. Shakspeare, whom I always confound with my cousin. Excuse the mistake, Sir.

This was really too much, even for the Doctor's refined gallantry; and, in a tone of subdued contempt, and cold irony, he replied-" Oh, Madam, you are quite excusable indeed, as the mistake was mine;"-and then, making a profound bow, he changed his seat to the opposite side of the room, where he sat, to the amazement of a large party, with such a mingled countenance of archness and chagrin,-exhibiting such an intellectual struggle between his taste for the ridiculous, and his natural politeness, as would well become the speaking expression of Garrick's face.

O'KEEFE'S LONDON HERMIT.-The plot of this amusing comedy, was taken from the following authentic anecdote -Mr. Hamilton, a lover of the antique, and an eccentric virtuoso, possessed the beautiful and picture que domain of Painsbill, near Cobham, in Surry. In a solitary rock, embosomed in a forest, and overhanging a winding river, he caused a hermetic cell to be excavated. To carry his favourite whim to the climax of folly, he advertised in the London papers for an ascetic person, who was willing to become the hermit of that woodland solitude, under the following, among many other cu rious conditions:-They stipulated, that he should dwell in the hermitage for seven years, without ever speaking to a female; that he should be provided with a Bible optical glasses, a mat for his bed, a hassock for his pillow, an hour-glass for his time piece, water for his beverage, and food from the mansion-house, which was to be brought him daily, by a female servant, with whom he was never to exchange a syllable; he was to wear a camlet robe, never to cut his beard or nails, to tread on sandals, never stray beyond the precincts of his rock; that if he faithfully adhered to these restrictions for seven years, he should at the lapse of that period receive seven hundred guineas; but, on the breach of any of these conditions, the whole was to be forfeited, and all the loss of time remediless. A young gentleman, of a noble family in London, who had squandered his patrimony in gaming and dissipation, agreed to the terms, and assumed the anchorite habit: but lo! ere the lapse of three months, he was tempted by a pretty, insinuating dairymaid, whom he had left, prior to his flight, in such a way women wish to be who love their lords." Lord Mount Edgecomb, and a Mr. Braydill, at that time possessed similar hermitages on their estates, and have made the like offers. BRIDE'S CAKES-Were first introduced by the Romans at their nuptial feasts. The moment the marriage ceremony was solemnized, a cake of wheat and barley was broken in the name of Juno, over the bride's head, and then cut in pieces, and handed by her to all the guests. This was called the confarreation, in token of the firm alliance that should subsist between man and wife.

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as

DRINKING HEALTHS-The custom of drinking healths was horrowed from the Greeks by the Romans. Ovid, the sweet bard of love, relates, that the Roman gallants, when toasting their mistresses at their convivial parties, used to drink a glass of wine for every letter in their names. The ceremony of drinking healths in England, was introduced, according to Dr. Trusler, in 460, on the occasion of the marriage of Prince' VOL. 1-59.

Vortigern, with the beautiful Rowena, the daughter of Hengist, king of Britain, who, on being presented with the wine cup by her spouse, drank his health in conformity to the Scripture compliment, “O King, live for ever!"

SALUTING THE LADIES by their relations, was introduced by the ancient Romans, not out of respect for them, but to find, by their breath, whether they had been drinking wine; a crime which disgraced any lady found guilty of it, and excluded her from all fashionable circles; so that it became an adage to say, "She that sacrifices to Bacchus, will certainly also make her offerings at the altars of Venus."

TOPOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF AMERICAN SCENERY.-No. I. BOUANOO.

I had frequently heard of this retired spot, previous to my tour through Upper Canada, in June, 1829-it having acquired some celebrity with the Indians, and with curious travellers, as well for its note in traditionary legends, as the uncommon beauty and novelty of its natural decorations;-and, in company with a fellow traveller, and a Canadian resident of the vicinity as a guide, I set out early in the morning from our lodgings at Le Verige, and proceeded towards the mountain, which embosoms the interesting glen of Bonanoo.-The sun was just tinging with tints of yellow light, the mountains of the east, as we arrived at its base; from which we ascended a declivity of nearly a mile, following a rude footpath, over glens, through ravines-wending along the dizzy brow of the precipice, or buried in the dense foliage of the thicket beneath. We found ourselves, at length, on the ridge of the mountain, where we lingered a moment to enjoy the rare prospect which its elevation commands. Seldom have I been delighted with so great a diversity of wild scenery as lay extended before me. To the north, the picture presented a vast extent of country, through which the Utawas glided like a beam of light-enlivened by bright lawns of living green-majestic groves of hemlock and pine, waving their dark and solemn boughs in the breezes of morning— and the deep and dense phalanx of the immense wilderness, which stretches to the north, and bounds the view. As far as the eye could reach, no trace of art, save the rural hotel of Le Verigé, could be seen;-all was one grand delineation of the majesty of the designs of nature.

We now descended the southern side of the mountain, and having forced our way through thickets, of deep entangled boscage, we were at once astonished and appalled, on finding ourselves on the dizzy verge of a ledge of rocks, from which we beheld the romantic and shadowy depths of Bonanoo, in whose undisturbed bosom a hermit would delight to retire. The opposite ascent was beautifully contrasted with the one upon which we stood the former presenting a delightful variety of green verdure, besprinkled with columbines, and blushing honeysuckles, while the latter displayed an umbrageous picture of fearful steeps, and rocky brows, unenlivened by foliaceous decorations, save the light fringe of brakes, or here and there a lonely hemlock, that had "cast anchor in the rifted rock," bending their gloomy forms over the abyss below.

The cavern, which is seen in these rocks, has been vulgarly denominated the “Devil's Mouth." The entrance to this cave is narrow, and extremely difficult; nor is access to it altogether unattended with hazard, as we were obliged to let ourselves down to its mouth, by means of the clefts and crevices in the rocks above. As I entered, I was agreeably surprised to find myself in a spacious apartment, whose roof was gemmed with sparkling stones, and hung with the pearly drops which had gathered from the atmospheric moisture, and the floor of which was clad in a soft green carpet of moss, whose unfading hues could not be rivalled by the richest dyes of art. Owing to the extreme darkness of this recess, we were unable to satisfy our curiosity, by examining the interior; but from the sound of water, trickling apparently at considerable distance within, we concluded that its extent must have been several hundred feet.

The glen beneath, is brightened with the silvery glances of a little rivulet, of the most pellucid water I ever beheld, stealing imperviously beneath the long rich grass, here and there bursting into view, until, after gliding over numerous cascades, and meandering through the plain below, it mingles with the Utawas. The gentle murmurs of this stream, and the blithe notes of the feathery inhabitants of the neighbouring shades, formed a harmonious concert, which rendered the scene more delightful. From the numerous tribes of flowers which smiled around, I culled many rare and elegant botaHical specimens. What attaches more interest to this sequestered spot, is a tradition,

existing among the adjacent Indians, that it was the scene of the slaughter of a famous Chippewayan chief, many years ago.*

Although I have never seen a description of Bouanoo, yet I think it far superior, in point of grandeur and sylvan beauty, to any spot of the kind, whose curiosities the graphic pens, and magic pencils, of gifted travellers and artists, have illustrated;-and were the beauties of this retired spot delineated by the pen of a Goldsmith, or the exquisite touches of a Raphael, it would be looked upon by the world with due admiraA WANDERER.

tion.

THE NEW-YORK STAGE.

THE NEW TRAGEDY OF METAMORA.-A BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF MR. FORREST'S PERFORM

ANCES.

"Fiat Justitia, ruat cœlum."

American genius, it appears, is excluded for ever, by an insuperable barrier, from tragic excellence; and Melpomene seems determined, that it shall never enter her temple, with what she considers its worthless offerings. The tragic muse disowns her votaries in This America, and even denies them the poor favour of following her triumphal car. prohibition, which is sanctioned by justice, and the concurrence of the legislature of Apollo, is imputed by American pride to the intrigues of English prejudice; for every opinion, however fair and unbiassed, that levels the unfounded vanity of the puerile and silly pretension of American literature, is ascribed to PREJUDICE. If we were to say that the squabby Dutch pile, the City Hall, had none of the grace and grandeur of Grecian architecture, one of the spelling-book scribes of the Courier, would assail and pelt us with the mud of scurrility, and call us every name in the baptismal_registery of Billingsgate. But we are not to be intimidated by the broken shafts of sciolists, for we shall fearlessly, during our brief sojourn here, continue to write, in the full spirit of our motto, of American men and manners, and to give expression to our opinions, with a candid boldness, which shall demonstrate our reckless indifference to the buzzing and biting of the puny hornets of the New-York Morning Papers. We never will allow, that the cackling of the stupid geese of the Hudson, is as melodious as the song of the tragic swans of the Thames or the Liffey.-We never will allow, that PERCIVAL has the inspiration of BYRON, or that MRS. ROYAL, certainly the best writer among the worthy, matrons of fifty, who, in the second childishness of owy, choke the paths of American literature with their Sibylline leaves, has a spark of the sublime genius of LADY MORGAN, While ever we can wield a pen, we shall consider ourselves bound, by the duty we owe the literature of our country, to prostrate arrogant assumption, and bloated conceit.But let us begin to dissect the tragedy' (what a misnomer!) of METAMORA.

·

We must take leave to examine this image of clay,-to scrutinize the proportions of the rough-hewn statue of American Stone, which has been lately honoured with a pedestal in the metropolitan theatre of the United States. We need not tell our readers,that America is not the country of Maturin,—of Milman,—of Cornwall,-of Sheil,-of Knowles, or of Morton, therefore we shall not tell them what would be an untruth,-that Metamora has filled up, with a legitimate tragedy, the yawning desideratum of American dramatic literature, or that it has a single essential of tragic merit, which would insure it As a dramatic comthe chance of a representation, in any regular theatre in London. shadow of a shade;"—an incongruous medley of dulness and insiposition, it is the pidity, without a single redeeming atonement of language, sentiment, situation, or incident. It is a motley patchwork, whose fustian phraseology is plastered, here and there, with furtive sentences from Macpherson and Sheridan, which glare like scraps of embroidery on faded tapestry; and whose confounded exhibitions, present only an awkward transposition, of scenes and situations borrowed from other dramas. The maudlin versification of the dreary dialogue, is so harsh and discordant, that it rattled its metrical fetters with such an intolerable clangour, as pained every euphonious ear. Metamora's speeches are in the most unheroic, the most unpoetic, and the most vapid, and spiritless language, that ever was put into the mouth of a hero by a dramatic proser.

* It appears from the accounts which I have been enabled to learn, that a party of Chippewayans, beaded by their chief, Beaumayree, had, on their return from an expedition against an eastern tribe, When asleep, at night, a party of the name of which has faded into oblivion, encamped in this recess. their enemies surprised and seized them, and sacrificed their chieftain and his whole party to their vengeauce.-- The grave of Beaumayree, who bore the native heraldric appellation of the Western Bear," The chief of the assassins paid is still marked by a pile of stones, which our guide pointed out to us. the debt of his crime-having fallen a victim to Chippewayan revenge some years afterwards.

The author has not given us a gleam of eloquence-a glow-worm ray of poetry—a flash of thought, or a flame of fancy, to brighten the darkness of bis dull, inanimate, and denuded dialogue.

In fine, Metamora, as a literary composition, is utterly destitute of the power and spirit of poetic diction; and as a drama, in plot and conduct, it is absolutely defective to reprehension. It is a mere pantomimic exhibition of stage tricks and mannerisms, factitious touches and clap-traps, that disgust intellect with their glare and glitter. The author, however, being an actor, became conscious of his inability to move the passions of any audience, by his poetry, resorted to the last resource of dullness, spectacle and conflagration, and succeeded admirably in pleasing many of the natives, by the din of

"Guns, drums, trumpets, blunderbuss, and thunder,"

which called forth from them bursts of acclamation! When such a meagre and miserable dramatic abortion as METAMORA, is hailed with applause, why, then, should any American dramatist give himself the trouble of writing elegantly, or painting poetically, for an audience, whose apprehension is never touched by the impassioned eloquence of the tragic muse?

So much for the author. It now remains for us to speak of the performance.-Mr. FORREST, as might be expected, was quite at home; frigidly precise, and formally correct, and more than realized the beau ideal of the author in the personation of the hero, for so, we suppose, we must call the nondescript Indian chief, Metamora. In such a tame, unintellectual representation as this, which requires only postures and grimaces, we might pronounce Mr. Forrest's" sayings and doings" faultless, with the exception of his roaring rant in the Council-Chamber. We think he is very clever in naturally personating his aboriginal ancestors ;-and why should he not, like Charles Surface, take liberties with his relations, and hammer them down as he may think proper? His pinions can certainly carry him as high as the earth-born genius of his dramatic countrymen can soar; but if he attempts to rise, with his waxen wings, above that level, he will fall with all the disgrace of a Dædalus. In the sublime regions of poetry, he cannot live, because it is a fiery sphere, in whose lofty skies, the eagle of genius alone can hover, and safely ride on the courser of Apollo, “illæso lumine solem." Passion-virtuous heroism-enthusiastic love daring speculation-wild and visionary romance-tender pathos-and acute sensibility--are too exalted for the flight of a bird of so heavy a wing as the American swan. It is in vain for him, like Kean, to play the Proteus, and assume, without effort, every kind of shape, no matter whether of God or Demon. KEAN animates every passion with a living sour-Forrest only presents us with a rude statue; the former combines the most picturesque organic requisites, with nature and sensibility-the latter disfigures his attitude by graceless affectation;-for neither the positions of the body nor the disposition of the mind are ever cast by the graces, in the mould of harmony, in his acting, so as to produce an impressive effect. He always labours, as if his powers were tasked; he uniformly plays himself, but not the part the author assigned him. In scenes of intense and high passion, he is stiff, frigid, and and tame, where he, "ever and anon," fails to enkindle burning indignation, or delineate terror so as to appal his audience. Look at him, for instance, in Othello; bow diminished are the capabilities of the mighty man in that difficult character! Who will assert that he is able to paint his soul rending passion, or agony of feeling? Can any thing be imore frivolous, or so ludicrously fastidious, as his gladiatorial imitation of Kean's solemn and beautiful manner of pronouncing the noble Moor's farewell soliloquy. He never succeeds in stamping identity on his characters, or in portraying them with judgment, or in varying them with the lights and shades of discrimination.

The outline of his conception it is true, is sometimes spirited, but the picture is never embodied with life, passion, or energy, so as to appeal to the heart, the sensibility, and the imagination. We admire the frame, but the bodiless canvass presents neither beauty, nor colouring, to impress the mind. We believe we may predict, that in depicting the terrible, the romantic, or the vehement affections, Mr. Forrest will never hold the reins of the passions, nor govern, with potent sway, hearts and tears like Kean, the king of sorrows."

"

There is, we imagine, no one who will deny Mr. Forrest the possession of one attribute of genius-ambition. If he cannot pull down tragedy from her car of fire, it is not the want of courage that causes the failure of his many daring attempts. For instead of contenting himself with the fame he had acquired by his felicitous imitation of Macready in Tell, Virginius, and Damon; instead of remaining thus fixed and stationary on his pedestal of popular estimation, he became in his natural orbit fatigued, which he thought oo circumscribed a sphere for his genius, and impatiently bursting the trammels of pru