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is sufficient to show that religious plays, like religious novels, may be pressed into the service of education with powerful effect. It is stated by Mrs. Mowatt, in her autobiography, from which we have already quoted, that in the catalogue of English dramatic authors there are the names of two hundred clergymen. But we imagine that none of these have written any religious plays. There are six regular theatres in New York, which are open nearly every night in the year, excepting Sundars, for dramatic representations, and the public that sit night after night with a fortitude and good nature to us increílible, to see the School for Scandal and the Lady of Lyons would be but too happy to vary their amusements by a religious dramı, if it were only new and intelligible. The chief of our city theatres, which claims to be the Metropolitan, since the destruction of the Old Park, is the Broadway. It is a very large house, capable of seating some 300 persons. It was built by Col. Alvah Mann, a great circus proprietor, who ruined himself by the speculation, and is now the property of Jr. Raymond, another millionaire of the ring. Broadway is a “star house," and depends more upon the attraction of a single eminent performer than upon the general character of its performances, or its stock company; and it is at one time a ballet, another a tragedian, again an opera, then al spectacle, that forms its attractions. Forrest has here appeared one hundred nights in succession ; here too Lola Montez made her debut in America, and any wandering monstrosity is seized upon by the manager to secure an audience. The regular drama, excepting with the attraction of a star, is found to be a regular bore to the public, and a regular loss to the house. The manager of the Broadway, E. A. Marshall, Esq., is neither an actor nor a dramatist, but simply a of business; and, besides the Broadway Theatre, he is also proprietor of the Walnut Street Theatre, Philadelphia, and of the theatres in Baltimore and Washington. Neither the exterior nor interior of this house is at all creditable to the city ; it has a shabby and temporary look externally, and the ornamentation of the auditorium is both mean and tawdry. No class of people seem to frequent it for recreation but only to gratify an excited curiosity.
The “ Bowery,” which is the oldest of all the theatres in New-York, is about the same dimensions as the Broadway, but has a stage of much greater depth, and better adapted to spectacle. It is
frequented chiefly by the residents of the eastern side of the city, and its pit is generally filled with boisterous representatives of the first families in the city—that is, the first in the ascending scale. The performances at the Bowery are, of course, adapted to the tastes of its audiences, who have a keen relish for patriotic devotion, terrific combats, and thrilling effects, and are never so jubilant as when suffering virtue triumphs over the machinations of persecuting villainy. It was for such audiences as these, with a slight infusion of better natures that Shakspeare wrote his dramas, and for whose amusement he was willing to personate the humblest of his creations. The present edifice is the fourth that has been erected on the same ground, since the first one was erected in the year 1826, the others having been destroyed by fire. The late proprietor of the Bowery Theatre amassed a fortune here, and left the establishment to his heirs, to whom it now belongs. It is understood to be a very profitable concern, as it has been from its first erection. It was in the Bowery Theatre where Madame Ilutin, the first opera dancer seen on this side of the Atlantic made her debut, and where the first ballet was performed, one of the troupe being the then unknown Celeste. It was here, too, that Walibran made her first appearance on the stage after her unfortunate marriage, and filled the house with the beauty, fashion, and intellect of the city. Such audiences have never since graced its pit and galleries. It was on the stage of the Bowery that Forrest achieved his greatest triumphs, and laid the foundation of his fame. But it is long since stars of such magnitude have shed their sweet influences on Bowery audiences.
Niblo's is not, strictly, a theatre, but a show house, open to any body that may choose to hire it. It is one night a circus, another an Italian Opera IIouse; then a dramatic temple, and then a lecture room. It is called a “garden,” but it is one of the roomiest, best constructed, and most convenient of all the places of amusement in the city, and is unexceptionable in its character. Its interior decorations are very inferior to the other threatres, but it has the great advantage of being clean and well ventilated. The entrance to it, through the Metropolitan Hotel, is er treinely elegant and capacious. Under the same roof, within the walls of the same hotel is Niblo's Saloon, a splendid room used for concerts and balls. The whole ground now covered by the Metropolitan IIotel was once Nibio's Garden, and the theatre was merely an appendage
to it to draw custom to the refreshment able for the possession of theatrical talent. tables.
He was a celebrated actor in London more There are two theatres in New York, than thirty years ago, and is still one of and but two which are devoted exclusively the best players in his line,—the genteel to the performance of the regular drama; heroes of melo-drama,-on the stage. But these are Burton's in Chambers-street, and he rarely makes his appearance before the Wallack's in Broadway. Burton's Thea foot lights. Wallack's Lyceum is Burton's tre was, originally, a bath-house, and was without Burton. Great attention is alafterwards turned into an Italian Opera ways paid to the production of pieces at House, in the management of which a this brilliant little house, and the costumes good deal of money was lost, and Palmo, and scenery form an important part of the the proprietor ruined. Burton then took attraction. English comedy and domestic possession of it, and made a fortune. It dramas form the chief attractions at Walwas the first instance in which a theatre lack's, and the house is generally full. in this city had fallen into the hands of a The utmost order and decorum are mainmanager of scholarly attainments and tained, both at this house and Burton's, artistic instincts, and the result of his and every thing offensive to the most delimanagement shows what may be effected cate taste carefully excluded from the by talent turned in the right direction. stage. Mr. Burton has not only enriched himself, The National Theatre in Chatham-street but his done the public a service by af has long been the resort of newsboys and fording them a place of harmless and ele apprentices, and the style of performances vating amusement. One of the first pieces has been very similar to those of the that he put upon his stage was Milton's “Bowery ;” but, in a happy moment, the Comus, which gave the public assurance manager, a good natured native whom they that the new manager was a person of call Captain Purdy, put Uncle Tom's cducation and refinement; and the uni Cabin upon his stage and at once raised form good judgment shown by him in the his fortune and changed the character of pieces he has selected, and the superior his house. As it has played this piece manner in which they have been costumed, twice a day for nearly six months, and is have made his theatre a superior place of now the family resort of serious family intellectual entertainment for people of parties, it would be rather hazardous to educated tastes. Mr. Burton is one of the predict what its future course may be ; best low comedians on the stage, and is, the old Chatham Theatre was converted himself, one of the strongest attractions into a chapel, and Captain Purdy's is of his theatre. But, like a true artist, he half way towards the same destiny. never hesitates to take a subordinate part, Attached to Barnum's Museum there when it is necessary to give completeness a large, well arranged, and showily deand effect to a performance. He has a corated theatre for dramatic representadevoted attachment to his art, and goes tions, where domestic dramas of a moral through with his nightly performances, character are performed, and a version of sometimes appearing in three different UI
adapted to Southern tastes has pieces, with a degree of vigor, and careful been a long time running. The “St. attention to all the minute accessories of Charles,” is a small theatre in the Bowery his part, which we could only look for which was built for an actor named Chanin an enthusiastic acolyte in the temple frau, who was the creator of the univerof art. Mr. Burton is an Englishman; sally recognized character of Mose, the but, unlike most of his countrymen, he type of
the New-York gamin. left his native country behind him, when The Italian Opera House in Astor Place he crossed the Atlantic, and became has been adapted to the uses of the Merthoroughly American in his feelings. He cantile Library Association; and the new was bred to the profession of a printer, opera house in Irving-place, which bids and, after his arrival in this country en fair to be one of the most magnificent gaged in several literary enterprises. He structures devoted to music in the world, established the Gentleman's Magazine, is not yet sufficiently built to be described; now called "Graham's."
but we shall describe it hereafter. Wallack's Lyceum, in Broadway, is an Since we commenced writing this article exceedingly elegant little house, the style the most beautiful and spacious place of of the interior decoration is in excellent popular recreation in New-York has been taste, and the effect of a full house is swept out of existence by one of those light, cheerful, exhilarating, and brilliant. sudden and disastrous conflagrations which James Wallack, the manager and proprie have earned for New-York the appellation tor, is the head of a large family remark of the City of Fires. Metropolitan Hall,
which was unrivalled for its extent and We are neither wealthy enough nor suffisplendor by any concert room in the ciently educated in music to monopolize world, together with the superb marble an Italian troupe at present, but are comfronted hotel in which it was inclosed, pelled to share this luxury in common with all their wealth of embellishment with our neighbors of Boston, Philadeland taste, the embodied forms of labor, phia, Ilavana, Mexico, Valparaiso, and genius, and skill were suddenly whilfed Lima. The Italian Opera is the highest out of existence on the morning of the order of theatrical entertainment, and de8th of January. The engravings which we mands a class of educated and wealthy have the good fortune to possess of these people for its proper support more numesuperb structures are all that now remain, rous than we have yet been able to boast but the memories of those ornaments of of. There are never more than half a our city.
dozen good singers before the public at a Castle Garden, the unique, remains, time, and in competing for their services, where opera, music, and the drama are we have to contend with, not the people presented by turns. It is a hall of un of other cities, but with their monarchs, equalled advantages for public exhibitions, the Emperor Nicholases and Emperor Nawhich was originally a fort, but has long poleons, who never hesitate to spend the been appropriated to the refining arts of money of their subjects to purchase pleapeace.
sures for themselves. The Ethiopian minstrels have become The cirens is still the most popular of established entertainments of the public, public amusements, and it is conducted and among them are three permanent com on a magnificent scale as a regular busipanies in Broadway; the Buckleys, Chris ness speculation by enterprising citizens. ty's, and Wood's, where the banjo is the The most famous riders now in Europe are first fiddle, and the loves of Dinah and graduates of the American ring. The Sambo form the burthen of the perform Ilippodrome, in the Fifth Ivenue, was an
attempt to transplant Franconi's from The Italian Opera, too, is noir an estab Paris. But the Hippodrome was too lished institution in the New World, but exotic to thrive in our climate, and, after it leads a vagabondish kind of a life at a season of doubtful success, it has closed present, and has no permanent house of probably for ever. its own, although one is erecting for it.
MEMOIRS OF DR. VERON.
Memoires d'un Bourgeois de Paris par le Docteur estates among the deceased's male and L. VERON, comprenant: La fin de l'Empire, la
female children, share and share alike, has Restauration, la Jonarchie de Juillet, et la
dilapidated every fortune, and beggared Republiqile jusqu'au rétablissement de TEm
the lower classes of the rural population ; pire. Tome Premier. Paris. 1853. pp. 350.
the complete loss of power and of position IT is scarcely necessary to say that we
of the aristocracy of the nation; the have read with great interest Dr. number of successful adventurers the reVeron's memoirs. They are a gossipping volutions have tossed to power, and the narrative of the last thirty years of French
consequent demoralization of all classes of life. The first volume only has appeared, society; the insatiable thirst for wealth which is rather a preface to the other
(now the only social distinction in a volumes than a chronological relation of country where quite as many ex-cabinet its parts to this period of time; it never ministers are rotting in gaols, or living by theless contains a great many curious their wits in an exile's abode, as may be pictures of French society during this found in fashionable drawing-rooms), and period, which we, who are separated from the inexorable demands of money made Paris by a winter's Atlantic, could scarcely by all, even the least social positions, have find anywhere else. A great many corrupted the French nation to an inconFrenchinen hold that French history be ceivable degree-we had almost said, have gins only with the adrent of Napoleon, made them as astute and as unprìncipled and they reckon the antecedent years as as the modern Greek. Our reader will merely the history of the Louises and the
we are very far removed from the Henrys and the Charleses who have sat cocked hat and ruffled shirt Frenchman upon the throne. Gross as is this mis
who capered gayly under a tree. take (which, by the way, has just been A truce, however, to these general reclearly exposed by M. Augustin Thierry*), flections. Let us trace this society from it is very certain that French society has the end of the Empire to the present time, undergone several radical changes since
by the examples Dr. Veron places before the Eighteenth Brumaire, and that the
let us carefully mark the different national character differs nua, ly as much phases he presents, and we may, at the from that of the Frenchman on the reign end of the work, be better enabled to of Louis XIV. as he differed from the form an idea of that strange phenomenon Gaul described by Cæsar. The general -French society. specimen of a Frenchman given by our Before dipping deep in his book of meschool books of geography, and which rep moirs, let us stay a moment to examine resent him with a cocked hat and a
the character of the writer: indeed his ruffled bosom, and dancing under a tree, is first chapter provokes the inquiry; it is enquite as inapplicable to a Frenchman of
titled, Qui je suis, “Who I am.” Dr. the present day as it would be to a Sioux Louis Veron was born the 5th April, Indian. The gayety, and contentment, 1798. Ho chose medicine as a profesand careless generosity, which once were sion, and prosecuted it with energy and the prominent traits of the French char
He tells us that when he acter, have completely disappeared; he saw all the volumes which compose & has become ambitious, and discontented, student's first library he felt that it was and avaricious. Successive radical revolu
necessary he should give himself up comtions, which, by the most formal laws, ex pletely to study, and lead a quiet, sober, pressed in the most absolute terms, and in and uninterrupted life ; getting up early more than one instance passed by the self in the morning, shunning exciting dinners same body of men, have dethroned every and hastening to his garret immediately ruler of the country, and have in turn afterwards, and taking good care to find exalted to the skies and debased to the no society there but his books. He consewer every form of government and every fesses he found the study of anatomy and family of governors known to the country: of pathology rather dull.; he hit upon a more than once the traitor's gaol has been plan to enliven them: to read some of the the footstool to the throne; the fatal in great writers of the seventeenth and of fluence of the article of the Code Napoleon, the eighteenth centuries, and never to which provides an equal distribution of have à cent of money in his pocket;
*Essai sur T Histoire de la Formation et des Progrès du Tiers-Etat, Par Augustin Thierry: VOL. III.-11
" poverty has made a great many great men.” His parents gave him twenty francs the first of every month, and the day he received them he lived like a lord ; they were spent with the day : he dined with some of his friends at a restaurant, and went to some theatre, and finished his day at the Café du Roi, then the favorite resort of the wits and the men of letters. In 1821 he was appointed au concours first interne of the hospitals; he was made a doctor of medicine in 1823. He went every morning in winter from the Rue du Bac to the Hôpital de la Pitié by five o'clock, that he might reach there before the van which takes off from the hospitals all the unreclaimed bodies of the deceased patients, that he might select the best of them, and with his scalpel prepare them for the students studying anatomy. He remained, too, for some time in the Hospice des Enfans-Trouvés; every morning, thermometer in hand, he gave some fifteen of these foundlings, affected with a hardening of the cellular tissue, a vapor bath ; during one year, he dissected at the least a hundred and fifty foundlings, and studied in a spoon the milk on more than two hundred nurses. Dr. Veron, however, abandoned his ambition of becoming a professor of the Medical school, in consequence of a defeat in a concours for the prizes of anatomy, natural history, natural philosophy, and chemistry; his rivals were MNI. Andral and Bouillaud, and they carried off all the prizes; M. Orfila however afterwards told him that he had voted for him for the first prize in natural philosophy and chemistry, and his fortunate rival, M. Andral, complimented him on his lecture on electricity. The result of this concours persualed Dr. Veron he hail powerful enemies among the Faculty; he did not appear at another concours, and shortly after published a pamphlet upon the diseases of infants, containing notes on croup and on an abscess in the thymus. (At the birth of the Count de Paris, the Duke d'Orleans, being anxious about the health of his first child, asked Dr. Blache which was the last and the best treatise upon the croup: Monseigneur, replied the Doctor, the last and the best treatise upon the croup is by Dr. Veron, the manager of the opera.) le removed from tho Quartier Latin to the Chaussée d’Antin, where he opened a doctor's office, but he avows in all humility that no client ever paid him a visit. One night, however, about three o'clock 1. M., he was called up by his porter and two or three old women to go and sce an old porter's wife hard by, whose
nose had been bleeding for more than six hours; he arrested the bleeding, and all the old women of the quarter sounded his praises with feminine volubility. His reputation rose from the porter's lodge to the first floor, and it was not long before he had three patients: one of them was a rich woman, who was no longer young and rather corpulent; it was necessary to bleed her:"Every body is talking,” she said to
"Monsieur, of your skill and of your learning, and I have quitted my physician to receive the care of a gentleman so cele brated as you already are.
All of my acquaintances will follow my example, and in a very short time you will have the most brilliant practice in Paris." He had often heard his old professor and friend, M. Rous, the most skilful surgeon in the world say, that when he had to bleed a person he always was uneasy; and Dr. Veron began now to be nervous; however, he was obliged to make the attempt; he took hold of the patient's arm; she continued to overwhelm him with praises ; he plungeil in the lancet; he did not touch the vein ; he plunged in the lancet again; no blood came. Oh! then the scene changed: “You are a miserable awkward fellow; the meanest surgeon bleeds better than you. IIow I pity the patients who contide themselves to your care. Bandage my arm up as quickly as you can, and take yourself oft°; you have doubtless maimed me.” ** The day of my grandeur," says the Doctor, was the eve of my fall, and an unsuccessful bleeding had wrecked all my castles in the air; humiliation was mixed with my despair, and when I returned home, I said in a very decided tone to poor Justin, ny porter, whom I afterwards made collector of the opera : “ Justin, I do not intend practising medicine any more, I will never bleed again, and if any body asks for a doctor, say there's none in the house."
After thus bidding adieu to the profession of medicine, Dr. Veron founded the Revue de Paris in 1829. There was then but one literary journal published in France, Le Mercure, which was published under the editorship and " by the expedients” of M. Gentil, whom M. Veron afterwards made the keeper of the " properties” at the opera; M. Gentil, however, could give the young writers, his contributors, nothing but praise and publicity; but he was a firm partisan of the "ro mantic school," as may be seen, when we are told that he is the author of that brief and celebrated judgment which made so