Obrazy na stronie
[ocr errors]

titled precisely in the same form as call the Piazza in Covent-garden those that are issued on the illness ef (where their father's shop is situahis Majesty.

ted) after the English fasbion, but MR ELLISTON'S HEALTH. Piatza. If he had left the puff to Mr Elliston had been nursing him them, they might have done it better self at home all Wednesday, in con- in one respect, they would perhaps sequence of a severe attack of cold: have made it grammar, and not have he dined off broth at 4 o'clock, and told us, that, “ Dr Pearson says at 5 set off for the theatre, to prepare he, (Mr Robins, and not Mr Ellisfor Young Dornton, in the comedy of ton) will be able to resume his The Road to Ruin.” Just as he professional labours early in the enhad reached Drury-Lane, he was suing week.” As it stands, mistakes seized with a fit of epilepsy, which may arise, for even auctioneers now continued till near 12 o'clock. He call their business a profession. was not well enough to be removed With regard to Mr Elliston, I am in the evening, and a bed was made very glad to hear that he is better, up for him in his own room at the but I doubt if the disappointment of theatre. Miss Elliston attended him the public on the night he was to throughout the night and yesterday; have played Young Dornton was as and Mr Robins sent his carriage in great as his own. He made way for the afternoon to take them home. something better; and he is rather Dr Pearson says he will be able to too fond of appearing in a certain resume his professional labours early class of characters, in which he exin the ensuing week.”

celled (no man more so) twenty I do not mean to make a joke of years ago, but for which he is now any thing at all serious; but what if altogether unfit, both from age and it should turn out that Mr Elliston's bulkiness. I am tired of seeing him “ fit of epilepsy" was aggravated, I in his Rovers and Rangers, and do not say produced, by the extreme Dorntons and Vapids. thinness of the house collected to In consequence of the absence of see the elderly gentleman perform Kean, and the illness of Elliston, the part of Young Dornton? I do Young, for the last week, has had not assert that it was so. All the the whole stage of Drury-Lane to information in this laboriously min himself. He has played Hamlet, nute production is certainly of the Macbeth, and Zanga, all parts that utmost value--not excepting even have hitherto been undertaken at the notice of the “broth at 4 o'clock," this house by Kean only. He was only here the public has to complain willing, most likely, to make good of an omission as to whether the use of his time in this interval, and broth was made of mutton, beef, or his success has been flattering to his veal! This was a singular oversight. ambitious rivalship. Kean is to-day No doubt, Miss Elliston is a very af- advertised soon to re-appear in Richfectionate and attentive daughter; ard: it is not likely, therefore, that but this "puff collateral” will not Young will invade this province, and make any body think her at all the Kean may have taken this step as a more so, or get her a husband at all precaution against encroachment upthe sooner. Hence, also, we learn, on his peculiar line of acting. Young very artfully, that Mr Robins keeps has a great many partisans: his taa carriage ; a matter of great import- lents are very considerable, but it ance-to Mr Robins. And who is cannot be said, as every body acMr Robins ? The auctioneer, and, knowledges, that he has the gift of I would lay my life, the author of genius : it is here that Kean does, this rare specimen of his skill in that and always will, excel him.' In:

Young, art, labour, and good sense, • To which the arts are all so much

are always seen, and seen too much ;

and it cannot even be said of him indebted"

as of Kean, puffing. However, he keeps a car " That that which all fair works doth riage. I wonder he did not contrive, most aggrace, also, to let us know that his daugh- The art which all had wrought appear'cz ters learn Italian, and can no longer in no place."


I have never had an opportunity, or and, but for the excellent acting of at least I have never taken it, of see- Mrs Davison, Mrs Glover, Terry, ing Kean's Zanga; but Young's is a and Cooper, damnation inust have very powerful performance. He was followed the fall of the curtain. Teralways a very pains-taking actor, ry's character is copied with much but now he, of course, exerts himself accuracy from a part he played in to the utmost. Like Kean, though the summer, at the Haymarket, in a not in the same degree, he wants a piece written by Kenny, I forget the good person; but his rival possesses name of it. that which, a great authority declar- There is hardly a particle of life ed, made Garrick appear six feet or reality about this “comedy in two high.

acts." I suppose it is called a coThe day before yesterday, a new medy, because it has neither wit, nor "comedy, in two acts," as it is call- humour, nor drollery, nor character ed, was brought out at this theatre; enough, to deserve the name of a but before I speak of it, I shall see farce. This is as it should be: we it a second time.

have lately had very few comedies

that have not been more like farces London, 11th January. in five acts, though it would not do One reason why I wished to see so to announce them in the bills. the new “ comedy, in two acts,” a Much as it may suit the grave and second time, was, that I found it censorious to find fault with “ Tom rery lavishly praised in some of the and Jerry," and pieces of that stamp, London newspapers; and as I con- they have a great deal of truth to fess the piece did not seem to me to recommend them, and they are at deserve it, I was unwilling hastily least pleasant exaggerations of actual to pronounce upon it. It is under- manners. A production of this sort stood to be from the pen of Dibdin, was brought out a few nights ago, at and, like several of his other drama- the Adelphi Theatre, called “Green tie productions, the title is a strange in France;" but though very amusone Simpson & Co. If we go on in ing, it is not like the original, “ Life this style, we shall soon confound in London," which, if not actual the Biographia Dramatica with life, was certainly very like it. Nor Kent's Directory—a very little while was its moral so bad as some of the ago we had “ Peter Fin, fishmonger;" disciples of Cant, (I do not mean at the Haymarket. But, if Mr Dib- Kant the German metaphysician,) din's title be new, he offers no great in this canting age, would endeavour novelty in the plot or characters, to persuade us. But, after all, the both of which have been often seen moral of a dramatic representation is upon the stage before, though, pere like the moral of a fable, scarcely ever haps, in somewhat different combi- read, and still more seldom undernations. It was prudent, therefore, stood, by those to whom it is addressin bin, to adopt a name unlike any ed. Besides, what does it signify, if thing ever heard of before, and such a few poor old crazy watchmen get as, it is to be hoped, will never be knocked down, or a few idle gameheard of again. The whole story is some apprentices get shut up in the built upon the discordant habits and watch-house from Saturday till Moninclinations of two partners of Fen- day? It rather does them good than church-Street, Simpson & Co., and harm, and must leave a far more their two wives: one partner is a powerful effect upon their future strict, precise, puritanical sort of conduct, than all the sage dogmas a tradesinan, afflicted with a fretful, that could be crammed down their jealous wife: the other partner is of throats. Neither do I believe that a far more liberal turn, running into one more guardian of the night, or various excesses, especially with fe- one more apprentice, has suffered in males, but blest with a wife who is consequence of the performances of of an open, confiding temper, with- those lovers of sprce, (and who shall out a particle of suspicion. All the say he is not a lover of esprit ?) Mr humour of the piece arises out of one Thomas Dashaway, Mr Jeremiah partner being mistaken for another, Hawthorn, and Mr Robert Logic.


The London apprentices have sadly THE LIFE OF CALEB CORNHILL. degenerated since the day that Hey

Chapter XI. wood (the contemporary of Shake

O MATRIMOXY! I have sigh'd for thee, speare) sent them out as the conquerors of Jerusalem ; and I see no

And all the happiness thy home within;

Oh Matrimony! I have long'd to be reason why the race should not be

Chaind with thy chains, that never restored : my opinion is, that “Life

fret the skin, in London” will contribute to it.

Like those that despotism oft hath twined A person called in the bills (as Around the dungeon'd limbs of poor manmatter of courtesy, I suppose,)

kind. gentleman,” made his first appearance in London last night, as Young

Yes! wedlock is a very pleasant state, Meadows, in “Love in a Village :'

As I have dreamt, and many a dream

l've had ; his deportment was like anything

For when a husband loses his dear mate, but that of “a gentleman,” and his

'Tis nine to one that he again will wed: singing like any thing but that of a

But when a prison'd linnet once gets free, musician. What, besides his un- "Tis ten to one that him you'll never see. lucky stars, brought him on the stage, remains to be seen.

If man's ambitious, and will chuse a wife Miss Paton has drawn two or three From some high sphere, superior to his full houses to Covent-Garden, to hear own, her Mandane : she possesses voice There's every chance that he'll be wed to and science, but she is mistaken if

strife, she imagines that she can ever rival

And, like a slave, sit trembling by the

throne Miss Stephens; I hardly believe that she pretends to do it. I quite agree

Of eastern despot. Do I augur well ?

Go ask at Addison--for he can tell. in all that has been said about Mr Pearman in Arbaces : his singing is If man is avaricious, and shall take essentially vulgar, and the managers A consort merely on account of pelf, deserve severe censure for thrusting Hewrongs the woman for her dowry's sake, him forward in a part for which he Nor can be bless, nor can be blest him. is totally unfit. It is ridiculous to self ; suppose that such an opera as Ar- She proves a burden, like a pedlar's pack, taxerxes can be got up with one

Which, if he durst, he'd tumble from his

back. principal singer only. Duruset's voice is like a dismal foggy day in Novem. Even Johnson had the folly to conceive ber; but he is still many degrees

He lov’d a woman, twice his age or above Mr Pearman, who ought never

nearly ; to aspire to singing any thing supe- At least he says sobut I still believe rior to “ This bottle's the sun of our It was the lucre that he held most table,”—and that not before gentle- dearly ; men. I have no room left to say any I say not that he lies but it is plain thing about the Christmas panto- The sapient moralist was much mista'en. mimes, and the omission is not very material.

If man's affectionate, and has the pow'r

Of fondly loving--and is lov'd again,

Then is the time to wed : the summer “ The Four "Prentices of London,

bow'r with the Conquest of Jerusalem,” when Where blossoms blow, and wild birds first acted does not appear, but certainly pour their strain, some considerable time before the death Displays nought half so lovely or so sweet, of Elizabeth. By the bye, the commen- As homes where beating hearts in union tators ought not to have missed, as they all have done, the obvious allusion in the prose prologue of this play, by Heywood,

“ Yes, Love is light from Heaven !"-as to Shakespeare's “ Winter's Tale.”—


Byron sings “ We rather thought fit to exemplify to

Though his but seems a torch-light of the public censure things concealed and

damnation, obscured, such as are not common with

Which hc, like an incendiary, flings, every one, than such historical tales as To set young creatures in a confiagraevery one can tell by the fire in Winter."

tion ;


Poor souls are hang'd for firing barns and Her “ Ida"-Ida is a thing of flame, rieks,

Might make admirers stand aloof and While he is prais'd for burning hearts tremble, like bricks.

Though love like her's explodes like a sky

rocket, “Yes, Love is light from Heav'n !" and

Or, like a candle, soon burns to the socket. Mary's bosom Has feit its influence like a summer's

Jane Porter, I conceive, is too romantic,

At least she loves to make her heroines And flow'rs of joy beneath its radiance

SO; blossom,

And though these heroines be not quite Delightful flow'rs, that shall not pass

frantic, away ;

Their dreain-like essence never can beNo! they shall live while I have pow'r to

stow cherish

Substantial bliss-a matrimonial chain The heart I love--and that's till I shall

Could scarce these spirits from their tights perish.

detain. On! Mary is indeed a countless treasure !

Joanna Baillie has a soul too high For she has beauty—that is sweet to

To be the wife of any mortal creature ; gaze on ; And she has feeling that's a fount of Yes, man may gaze upon her with his eye, pleasure ;

And worship her as a superior nature, And she has fancy-gloomy hours to

But nothing more-she's worthy to beblazon ; And she has judgment—to conduct her Apollo's consort in Elysium. way

But Mistress Opie has a womau's beariThrough this dark world, where folks are

Soft, feeling, tender, every thing I love; apt to stray.

And she possesses genius to impart I would not like a wife like Hannah (As well her novels and her verses prove) Moore;

A portion of her tenderness to any She's too sedlate-I love a little mad. Who read her tearful books and these ness ;

are many. Not quite insanity, you may be sure But that bright spirit that is always Yes and my Mary has a kindred power, gladness,

Although she neither novels writes nor That, like a sun-ray fitting o'er the

verses ; mountains,

She comes upon my spirit like the hour Plays on the streams, and dances on the Of dawning morn that every cloud disfountains.

perses ;

She comes upon my spirit like the ray Miss Edgeworth's far too knowing for a

Of brilliant noon, that wakes the flow'rs spouse,

of May. A knowing woman's sure to wear the breeches;

Oh were she mine! like two united And Lord keep me for ever from that

streams, house

Along this vale of tears, our lives Where husband acts but as his consort

should glide, teaches;

While summer's sun upon the water John Knox, for all thy rudeness, I main

gleams, tain

And wild-flow'rs spread their hues on With thee, that petticoats should never

every side, reign.

While not a gathering storm obscures the Let David Hume elaborately laud,


Nor breeze the blossom nips-Oh! were And Spenser sing the glories of Queen

she mine! I like her little better than her dad, Although her wickedness appear


Chapter XII. But 0 her bosom was a fearful tide

But human bliss is like the fragile rose, Of passion, vanity, revenge, and pride!

Like winter's sun that quickly is with

drawn, Miss Owenson, or Lady-what's her Like meteor-light, that o'er the moorland name!

goesHas too much fire-at least if she re- Like dew-drops, that evaporate at semble


Bess ;





nets sung,

Like moment's swelling of the ocean. How blest is he!-unutterably blest,

By whom that sweetest treasure is possest. Tis ours to-day-to-morrow in the grave.

Oh say, what dangers will she not surEliza Gray was beautiful and young, The fairest flow'r that bloom'd in Yar

For him she loves ? what troubles not rowdale ;

sustain ? No fairer flower in April ever sprung,

Scorn, exile, poverty, she will account Wet by the dews, kiss'd by the moun.

As trifling ills, if to her lot remain,tain gale,

When joys decay, and each fair prospect And foster'd by the suns of Heav'n-she


The kindred heart on which her heart A child of hope--a stranger to all woes.

reposes. A gentle maid, with sympathetic breast, And 0, Eliza was a happy wife !

With meditative mind-her spirit drew A happy husband was her best belov'd; Delight and knowledge from the scenes

But how uncertain is our mortal life ! imprest

She gave to him, the faithful man that Upon her infancy_where violets grew,

prov'd And willows fringed the brook, and lin

Her hope and joy, her comforter and

guide Around the parent-home to which she A son, the image of herself—and died. clung.

Alas for thee! to whom the love was given I love simplicity - I love the worth

Of her, whom as a sister I beheld ; of rural damsels—but I joy to mark Though clouds of darkness o'er my mind A spirit of intelligence break forth

have driven, Like morning sunshine o'er the valley Though tides of sorrow o'er my heart dark,

have swellid, The mountain solitude, the sylvan farm, Since she hath met mine eyes I still beAnd give a brilliancy to every charm.


My gentle friend as in the days of old. And such Eliza was: but storms will rise Even in the spring-time, and the mil- I still behold her lovely--but to thee dew's wing

Far lovelier, brighter, sweeter, every Will blight the flow'ret that we lov'd to

charın prize,

Or face, of heart, of mird, must ever be And leave it death-like in its withering. The recollections that thy bosom warm, Ah ! such Eliza was-her bloom decay'd, And turn thy soul to agony-when thou And many wept for the declining maid. Think'st of the days that were that are

not now. But 'twas a transient cloud-it pass'd away ;

I know what 'tis to feel the ills of life, And as the rose looks lovelier after What 'tis to think of joys for ever gone; show'rs,

But not what 'tis to lose a loving wife, The maid again assum'd her aspect gay, That tender spirit, that with thine is one

And all the beauty of her fairest hours; In hope and fear, in bliss and miseryAnd she was fondly lov'd—and she be. But I can fancy it, and feel for thee.

stow'd A heart that with congenial fondness Yea, I have fancied what it is to be glow'd.

A happy husband, though I ne'er have

been ; How blest is he! unutterably blest, And, in my loneliness, 'tis agony Whose hopes are staid on virtuous To think of days that I have never

woman's love! As on a rock his faithful soul may rest, May never see-but harder far thy lotNo time can change it, and no change Thou wast a happy husband_ thou art not.

remove : As light shall be while suns are in the sky,

Alas! the doom of man's a fearful doom ! Her love exists until her heart shall die.

But He who sends us to this world be

low, O yes ! that tender, timid, gentle thing Who sends us joy and grief, and sun and That bears the name of woman-hath

gloom, a heart

Knows why they come and He alone Omnipotent in love no power can wring

doth know The treasure from her soul- they will Our present destiny-our last abodenot part:

And 'tis our part to kiss the chast'ning rod.


« PoprzedniaDalej »