LINDA DI CHAMOUNI MADE EASY. PROLOGUE. SPIRIT of Jenkins, don't, oh ! don't refuse The tuning is over, and Costa with grace And enough has been done by the artist to gammon ye At first there is no one at all on the stage; Of chorus invisible joins with the chime, While a voice at the wing murmurs "Pray keep your time." But seeing 'tis only the second-rate donna, Wet blankets of "hush," are at once thrown upon her; She sings a few bars, and by some mode or other, When the very identical husband walks in, Some think it's Lablache,-but they 're dreadfully out; It must be the fils if it is not the père. But the truth they at last very shrewdly discover, That 'tis Fornasari, who 's lately come over. His daughter was born there, his parents had died there. Ver. V.-1843. But the hint is not taken, in spite of his art, So, likewise, do Linda's old father and mother : It is Persiani-whose affable smile Can even Young England's white waistcoats beguile. It seems he's a painter, with nothing to do- As a Savoyard boy-but she's rather too stout. That Lablache seeks to rescue his child from a snare ; With a party of Savoyards, all through the snow. "As we took a survey of the pit, human heads appeared as if they had been piled one upon another, like cannon balls in a beleaguered bastion !" Ods, bomb-shells, JENKINS! doth not this smell of something more than mere hair-powder? A beleaguered bastion! But, then, JENKINS-we have since discovered the fact-was in his youth triangle-boy to the Lumber Troop. Hence FILLED TO Prisons, you may see what befell other impresarii; and in our own time, we ourselves not blush to scribble about it. Indeed, it is our intention-in compliance with the prayers of thou- A JENKINS'S NUMBER. THE BATTLE OF THE ALPHABET! SIR JAMES GRAHAM has given up his Educational Clauses in the his belligerent style. Soon, however, does JENKINS subside into his As many sects as there are letters of the Alphabet fought for the natural sweetness. "We had an amusing instance of the pressure. At the very beginning of the performance, a kindhearted and rather obese friend of ours, seeing a brother magistrate [we fear JENKINS is not altogether unknown to the bench] of his county standing with his fair daughter in one of the pit alleys, went down to offer him a seat in his box. True, he effected his entrance into the pit, but there he became at once impacted, as fast as a fly in amber, and, until the end of the opera, he remained helplessly oscillating amidst the crowd, telegraphing and making vain signals of distress, like a Dutch boat that has lost its rudder in a storm!" Á fly in amber! Now, a common, working-day observer, looking at an obese magistrate in such a dilemma, might have likened him to a cockroach in treacle; but sweetly, delicately doth the mind of JENKINS refine and elevate the grossness of mere human fat into the prettiest of objects! A county magistrate, of twenty stone, sweating in a July pit, by the magic of JENKINS's pen, is changed to a-fly in amber! We only hope that in a moment of benevolent idleness JENKINS may not some day wander into the Court of Queen's Bench; otherwise by his so potent goose-quill, all the Judges, Queen's Counsel, &c. may take wing as birds of Paradise, humming-birds, and turtle-doves. But great is JENKINS!-mighty in his literary necromancy: for, lo! he lets fall but a single drop of ink, and the magistrate, a fly in amber, becomes a Dutch boat that has lost its rudder! Only think of a county magistrate that has lost his rudder! A human butter-boat with nought to steer by! JENKINS next speaks of his literary style,-perhaps the most difficult style to get over upon record : "Although we deeply regret the frequent incoherency and other palpable defects of those reports of the Opera which, after the fatigues of the day, we throw off in breathless haste at those small hours of the morning when our happy readers are quietly reposing, we think our plan is the best we could possibly adopt." We deny the incoherency: the reports are perfect: we know nothing like them. Yet, mark the remorseless JENKINS! He can contemplate his readers fast asleep (not a very difficult stretch of the imagination), and without a twinge of heart know that they will wake to-read The Morning Post! This is downright Newgate apathy, the indifference of a turnkey who chews tobacco at the couch of the sleeping culprit, who at a certain hour must be roused to be hanged! Our next passage shows JENKINS as a fly-catcher : "On the night of the first public performance our judgment is already recorded; we then lay by to correct our impressions, and instead of serving up to our readers a rechauffé of our first critique, we endeavour to involve the on dits that fly from mouth to mouth in our light talk, just like naturalists catch the winged insects in the air in gossamer nets." JENKINS, you are unjust to the weight of your talk. It is by no means so light as you imagine; for see how it has sunk the Post. You have only-excellent Man of the People-to talk away, and the thing must go down. JENKINS speaketh of LABLACHE :— "Born in degenerate Italy, he is but a singer-in the palmy days of its republics, he might have been a great leader or a great statesman, and have added many a bright page to the records of his immortal countrymen, Guicciardini and Macchiavel." Well, as poor LABLACHE is not permitted to add original pages, might he not try his hand upon indexes? We, however, understand that LABLACHE, not being able to suppress "the god within him," has been sometime engaged upon a folio, splendidly illustrated, to be called The Natural and acquired Properties of the Jackass. JENKINS is very often seen at the lodgings of LABLACHE. JENKINS next introduces himself as a man of charity: a Samaritan, with melting heart and open hand. He says "In the records of the Court of Chancery, in those of the Queen's Bench and Fleet child, all seizing him at the same time! "I his left," says B. "I'll die before I give up this arm," says C. "Do you think I'm a heathen, to part with his shoulders ?" says E. And then all the rest of the letters of the Alphabet vowed that they would never give up the bit of the dear child, that each prized so dearly. Whereupon, each tugging with mutual strength, it was found that the child would be torn to pieces, if continued to be struggled for. So, by common consent, all let go their hands; and the child was not to be troubled with letters. HE very great advantages of getting together a vast quantity of facts in such a formi as to take them in at a single view, cannot for a moment be doubted. We have had the World at One View, printed in long narrow columns, on a single sheet, for only one penny, and placing that generally dearbought commodity, a knowledge of the world, within the reach of every one. The system of concentration has been applied to almost every department of science and art -from the pocket encyclopædia down to the concentrated luncheon, which is said to combine a basin of soup in a mysterious looking piece of glutinous compound about the size of a walnut. amongst intellectual luxuries, and we shall therefore endeavour to supply History at one view has, however, been until now a desideratum the deficiency as briefly as possible. In order to render our universal history complete, and bring distant eras as well as nations beneath the |
