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THE REJECTED THEATRE.

The Rejected Theatre. The Gondolier.

WHEN the mania for pomp and tin- || the entrance of the Countess, and Lord selled show shall be at an end; when the stage shall cease to be made a hippodrome, and the true histrionic art shall be encouraged instead of these innovations; when the theatre again becomes the real veluti in speculum to the events, pursuits, and the natural and heroic sentiments of mortals, (and, we trust, from the encouragement lately given to extraordinary talent, that such a day is beginning to dawn,) then ma- Corallina, the faithful Soubrette, is equally nagers may turn, perhaps, to the Rejected admired by the rival servants; of course, Theatre, as to a never failing source of ge- she prefers the lively young Pasquino to nuine idea, real taste, and correct language. the old French valet. A most laughable We were much pleased with the perusal scene takes place towards the conclusion, of the elegant comedy, interspersed with full of mistakes and incident. The Marquis some very appropriate songs, of The Gon- || Virezzi, desirous of hearing the confession, dolier. Without wishing to depreciate from the lips of the Countess, of her love, other performances of this nature, we must goes disguised to her palazzo as a monk. say, that we found in it a peculiar degree of || Pasquino has been dispatched by his master merit and stage effect. The characters to bring a gondola, and the chorus of the consist of an English nobleman, Lord For- gondoliers is to be the signal of the escaping rester, the Marquis Virezzi, with his son of the two lovers; Rosaura enters with a Florindo, a conceited, pedantic coxcomb. light while Pasquino gets in at the window; Pasquino, the servant to Lord Forrester, he snatches the monk's cowl from the head and Le Bourru, the French servant to the of the Marquis, and his son, Florindo, who Countess Colombo, are two under, but very has, during the confession of the Countess, prominent characters, and who give, by been concealed in a closet, rushes out, consome laughable qui pro quos, a very hu- vulsed with laughter. At seeing Lord Formorous effect to the different scenes. The rester in the disguise of a gondolier, the female characters are, the Countess Colombo, Countess again reproaches him with being Rosaura, her daughter, and Corallina, an an impostor; the Marquis, however, soon arch girl, waiting-maid to the latter. Lord recognises him as a nobleman of high rank Forrester and Rosaura are inspired with a and wealth; and his sincere attachment to mutual tenderness for each other, while the Rosaura being proved, and her mutual afCountess, imagining his Lordship to be fection, the Countess gives her consent to some English impostor, is desirous of seeing the union, with which the piece concludes. her daughter wedded to Florindo, with whose father she is herself in love. In the palazzo of the Countess is a room of statues, amongst which is placed that of a gondo lier, on a pedestal. Here, at the commencement of the piece (the time evening) the Countess nearly surprises her daughter, in conversation with the English Lord, who, to facilitate his approach to Rosaura, has taken the disguise of a gondolier. The lovers contrive to remove the statue before

Forrester personates the statue. Unable, however, to master his emotions, as he hears Rosaura, in order to gain time, promise her mother to receive the addresses of || Florindo, he leaps down; it is, however, dusk; the Countess has, in her fright at the noise, hid her face with her hands, and the lover, at the intreaties of his mistress, again takes his former station.

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The chorus of gondoliers at the opening of the opera, offers a rich field for musical composition:

"Light on the tide our oars impress'd,
Break with soft curls its tranquil breast;
Light o'er the wave, through twilight grey,
Holds our fleet bark its sparkling way."

Nor is the duet between Lord Forrester
and Rosaura less admirable :-
Lord F. "See, lady, see, the gondolier,
True to the vesper hour, is here.

Ros. Well pleas'd I see the gondolier,

True to the vesper hour, is here. Lord F. & Res. Sweet is the wild birds' warbled lay,

To him who toils at opening day;
Sweet is the silver-murmuring stream,
To him who faints in noon-tide beam:
Sweeter to me the twilight knell,

The far swung sound of the vesper bell. All. Hark! hark! bark! with solemn swell, Floats o'er the wave the vesper bell." While Rosaura is playing with the jealous fears of her lover, the following remark is admirable:

"The dawn of youth presents every object to me in all the fascinating variety of spring, and the more distant charms of maturing womanhood are obscured by that mist which the noon-day of my life will dissipate; but the perspective on which you gaze, is a sobertinted, autumnal scene, which partakes more of the oscuro than the chiara."

In those lighter scenes, to excite broad mirth, that of Corallina and her two lovers in the dark cannot fail of its aim:*

Le Bourru. "Do not derange you, charmante Miss Corraline. Lovairs have de hawk's eyes; me vatch-e you steal away in de dark. Corallina Oh! Oh!

Lord Forrester. This is incomprehensible. Le Bourru. Me fear me have put-e you into von leetel fright, ma mignenne. Votre coeur palpite: I did make-e your heart beat. Que je suis beureux! Your tender lovair did make-e your heart beat!

Pasquino. (Aside.) Why, the rascal's getting quite amorous (placing his hands on Corallina's shoulders); and as I live he's fumbling one of

her bands.

Corallina. Let go my hand; you are very rude, Mounseer.

Le Bourru. Mais, non, ma mie, je suis le plus tendre des amants.

Pasquino. (Aside.) I shall certainly murder the scoundrel. (Pasquino removes Corallina's hand, and slips his own in its place.)

Le Bourru. Vat delicate leetel band! Pasquino. (Aside.) Humph! A discovery! Le Bourru. Dese fingers be so smood as de velvette, and (kissing Pasquino's hand) smell like de perfumes of Arabie.

Pasquino. (Aside.) Its the first time then, I'll be sworn.

Le Bourru. This leetel finger is as soft as one rabbit's ear. (Kissing Pasquino's finger.

Pasquino. How happy the old fool makes himself!"

Le Bourru continues his fooleries till he gets pinched by Pasquino, when he cries out, "for vhy you pinchee me, Miss?" and the scene goes on in the dark till Pasquino is dismissed by Lord Forrester, between whom and Rosaura another lovers' quarrel takes place; after which the scene changes to a view of St. Mark's Place illuminated, and the following beautiful trio is sung :"At break of dawn-at fall of night,

Thy charms, dear Venice! are the same; Thy loveliness ne'er met the sight

Of those who do not bless thy name. 1st Voice. Pleasure! Italia's sons adore Thy blessed name, and hymn thy praise From Milan to Sicilia's shore,

And songs of gratulation raise

To thee, who hast, thro' many a year,
Chosen thy sainted dwelling here.

Trio. At break of dawn, &c.

2d and 3d Voices. When moonlight cheers the scenes we love,

And half removes the veil of night, And Zendalettos seem to move

Upon a sea of liquid light, With panting hopes and breathless haste We swallow joys we seek to taste. Trio. At break of dawn-at fall of night," &c.

At the reconciliation between Rosaura and Lord Forrester, when he is convinced of her attachment to him, his speech and her answer are well worth recording:

Lord F. "To express what I feel to any but yourself, were impossible: very few have been initiated into the hallowed mysteries of intellectual passion. The vulgar doctrines of love are like those elementary lectures which Aristotle addressed to the common people; but the metaphysical principles of the lover's art, like those of the Grecian philosopber, are communicated to the most confidential of his friends only.

Ros. Since you are inclined to be so figurative, I'll furnish you with another allegory: It has been vulgarly declared, that all lovers feel alike; but does not this capricious deity, Love, resemble the keen grammarian, that defines the various meanings of emotions, which nine-tenths of the world consider synonymous?" &c.

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Correspondence of Baron Grimm with the Duke of Saxe Gotha. Part I. By Diderot. Colburn.

It is impossible for us to give any particular outline of this mixed and voluminous work; as it is a collection of literary and historical memoirs, interspersed with anecdotes. We offer, however, to our readers, from this celebrated publication, a great number of extracts, which, we doubt not, they will find amusing and interesting, and which, for the general use of our readers, we have rendered into English:

ANECDOTE OF MADEMOISELLE DE COR-
NEILLE AND VOLTAIRE.

tion, according to their ideas. Envy sought to take from the merit of Voltaire in this

transaction; and others praised the goodness of the philosopher to the skies: if they were wrong in one instance, they were guilty of exhave been the friend of Mademoiselle Coraggeration in the other. Certainly he might neille without so much parade; and if, by chance, he had become weary of her, without providing for her for life, he would have rendered her more miserable than if he had left her in her former indigence: but there were a set of people who were vile enough to predict this event, which did not take place, but which served them to disseminate their venom on the reputation of this celebrated genius."

OBSERVATIONS ON THE REAL CHARACTER
WRITINGS OF THE FAMOUS COR-

AND

"The father of this young person was a tradesman, who was a distant branch of the family of the celebrated Corneille, but had nothing resembling that great man but the name. M. de Fontenelle, who was a near relation of Corneille's, knew nothing of this man, who NEILLE. only made himself known when Fontenelle "Peter Corneille had received from nature, approached his hundredth year, and was near genius, the most exalted ideas, and a strong finishing his long earthly career. The father and vigorous understanding. If, with these of Mademoiselle Corneille was, of course, for- great qualities, he had been but endowed with gotten in the will of Fontenelle, and he pleaded feeling, with a tender and susceptible heart, in a court of law in vain. The players gene- he would have been, without doubt, one of rously gave him a benefit, and performed the first of men but it is the heart which Rodogund, by which he gained six thousand renders poesy truly elegant; it is that which, francs; but the fortune of Mademoiselle Cor- in the most barbarous ages, as well as in those neille was yet very precarious. The Prince of which were more refined, gave that touching Conti took it in his head to make this melan- character which served to render a poet imcholy descendant of Corneille sing an ode mortal. The heart of Corneille was dried up, in honour of Voltaire. The philosopher, de- || and, being an empty void, he was obliged to lighted with being styled the father of the have recourse to his head, so that reason French theatre, offered to take Mademoiselle usurped the place of sentiment. Though Corneille under his protection, and have her born at a fortunate period, he yet was not foreducated under his own eye, by his niece, Ma- tunate enough to discover the true source of dame Denis. This gave rise to the corre- taste; bis understanding had not been culti spondence between Voltaire and Le Brun, vated by the study of the Greeks and Rowhich has been printed. Some rich and de- mans, and his genius did not become brilvout relations set their faces against this ar- liant. A taste for Spanish literature, which rangement, fearing that the religious principles had infected a great part of Europe, comof Mademoiselle Corneille would be overset, pleted the corruption of Corneille. under the guidance of the first man in the age poet, full of warmth and strength of expreswherein he lived; but, as they must then have sion, established the Spanish influence on the taken the charge of her themselves, they at French theatre, and substituted declamation length consented that the young person should and mistaken emphasis for elevation and true enter the broad and pleasant road to destruc-grandeur. If Corneille, with his superior ta.

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lents, and with that art of reasoning which he possessed in so eminent a degree, had devoted himself to the bar, he would have been one of the first lawyers of this age, or any other; but dramatic poetry, which was then but in its birth in France, required a different kind of genius. His situations are generally sublime, and the first conception of his ideas grand and astonishing; but I will take upon me to say, that, when executed, they seldom give satisfaction to a well cultivated mind, or to a man of real taste. His characters are generally out of nature: in bis happiest moments it is always the poet who is exalted, and draws off our attention from the actors. The genius of his statesmen consist in laying down political maxims, with which our dogmatical works abound, but which have never yet actually been adopted. His tyrants and wicked characters have also their peculiar sentences, and do not scruple to speak aloud those principles which, though they enter their hearts, they are so far from uttering them, that they scarce own them to themselves. His tender and sentimental characters are always reasoning, and always coldly, instead of seeming actuated alone by the passionate warmth of their feelings. Every passion, but particularly that of love, instead of developing the secret emotions of the soul, becomes, in his pieces, only a tissue of the most commou-place reasoning.

"Thus has truth been banished from the French theatre from its cradle, and, in the finest pieces of Corneille's, we may always cry out, “really, that is very fine, but it is what never could have happened." In a word, if a lover, a tyrant, or a conspirator, was to act in the world, and make use of one single sentence, such as Corneille puts in his mouth on the theatre, he would be looked upon as a madman. How can any thing so false and puerile be supported by a seusible audience? If they can applaud such errors, is it not fair to call their taste in question?

vation on liberty and the republic. When they presume to give to an actor the name of a great personage, besides the general features of his character which history has given him, it is requisite also to know the ideas, manners, aud customs of the age he lived in: now no one knew less of the manuers of the Romans than Corneille. He had learnt only from his Spanish studies the laws of chivalry. Not but what, like others, he was acquainted with ancient history, that is to say, he had read it, and had reaped from it as little fruit, as the greatest number of those young persons do, who give several years to a study which ought to form their taste and extend their knowledge, but which they too often quit, without ever knowing the authors whose works they have so often turned over; and without seizing the character and the genius of the age in which they lived-No, they have learnt to associate modern ideas to those ancient discourses, with which they have not the smallest connection. If Corneille had never undertaken any other kind of subjects than such as the Cid, his style would have been always natural; but in treating Roman subjects, he has given to his dialogue and to his principal characters sentiments of chivalry, and that romantic bombast, that certain emphatic ceremony unknown to the Romans. We may cite as a proof that famous scene in Cinna, which begins with, "Take a seat, Cinna ;" and neither speaks a sentence but what is absurd. Corneille has transformed Augustus into a King of Castille, who reproaches bis vassal with felony; but the true Augustus, as he is represented to us in history, would not have made use of a single expression such as Corneille has put in his mouth; and Cinna, himself, would have answered very differently. Those who have read the letters of Cicero, and the manner in which business was carried on at Rome, could never listen to a single line in this famous scene of Cinna, wherein Augustus deliberates with Cinna and Maximus, whether he ought to keep or depose the em

"One of the fancies the most difficult to get out of our heads, and which we hear repeated every day, is, that there is only Cor-pire, nor of that other political scene of Serneille who knows the proper style in which a Roman ought to speak. I am not sure whether it was not Louis XIV. and the great Coude which decided this matter, and of whom the ignorant public have become the echo; but Louis XIV. born with an instinct which made him admire every thing great, had very little wit, and yet less education; and Conde, though he knew how to gain a battle, knew nothing of the Roman genius. To have the air and the manners of a Roman, it is not enough that he must talk with a tone of ele

torius, which is so cried up, and which has made so many half-witted people exclaim, what a great man Peter Corneille would have been if, as a statesman, he had been placed at the bead of affairs; he would have been a second Timon. There are none but children who could ever imagine that important affairs are regulated, in fact, in the same manner as they are in our tragedies; but men of salid understanding and of strict taste, require nature in such discourses, and abhor all the false rhetoric of declamation."

There is much originality and sprightliness in the following letter which we have extracted from this work, written from the Abbé de Bouflers to the Abbé Porquet, at the beginning of the year 1762:

"At length, my dear Abbe, I am about to execute a project which has been always uppermost in my thoughts, and which your better judgment always condemned, that of changing my condition. It certainly is not a trifling undertaking to begin a new life, as 1 may say, at the age of twenty-four; perhaps you will tell me that I ought to reflect more seriously on this matter than my age and na tural vivacity will permit me; but do not condemn me without having heard me once more; and as in all things that relate to our happiness, there is no judge so proper as the parties concerned, suffer me, I beg of you, to plead and decide my own cause.

“I was in the direct road to fortune, the first steps I took were sufficient to ensure it to me. The most favourable circumstances seemed to be in unison, and presented the fu. ture to my imagination under the most brilliant colours. Without merit, I could, like many others, have obtained benefices; who knows but what a few intriguing stratagems might not have placed me at the head of the clergy? But I had rather be an aid-de-camp in the army of the Prince of Soubise. The first rule of conduct is not to aim at being rich and powerful, but to find out which way our desires tend, and to follow them. Alexander, with all the gold of Asia in his coffers, and the sceptre of the universe in his hands, sought happiness in Babylon; and a humble herdsman of eighteen, finds it in a cottage, if he marries the little country lass he loves.

. "But a truce to Alexander, and let us return to speak of myself, who am much more like a herdsman than Alexander. You must be convinced that a sanguine disposition, a temper naturally thoughtless, and an independent spirit, are the three chief traits in my character: compare such a character with the duties of the state which I have embraced,

and then tell me if I am fit for it? You are not ignorant how impossible it is for me, and yet how requisite it is for every ecclesiastic to conceal his desires, to disguise his inmost thoughts, to be particularly guarded in bis expressions, and above all, to hinder others from prying into his actions. Think only of the atrocious hatred, the envy and jealousy, the unworthy meaunesses which often take place in the hearts of the priesthood; and

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||which I should bring upon myself by my simplicity, my imprudence, and, indeed, by my libertinism: you must acknowledge that I am not formed to live among such people. Do you reckon as nothing the cry that would be raised against me for the freedom of my manners? None but fools would cry out against me, you will say. So much the worse, it would be better for me, if the censure came from the wise; there would be less noise about it.— Fools have always the advantage by their Aumbers, and it is the multitude which decide: we may fight against them as long as we please, but we shall never weaken them; they will always be our masters, and remain the lords of the universe; give laws, and assign to every one his rank in society-there is no practice, no custom, or duty of which they are not the authors. In a word, they will always oblige people of sense to think and act something like themselves; because it is a standing rule that the vanquished speak, in general, the language of their conquerors. After this profound veneration, which you find 1 possess for the power of fools, am I wrong in endeavouring to get in favour with them, and ought I not to look on it as the happiest moment of my life when I am reconciled with the first sovereigns in the world? Pardon me for jesting while I reason; it is to help both you and myself to support the ennui such reasoning might otherwise cause. Besides, Horace, your friend and model, allowed himself to laugh while he was telling truth; and the first philosopher of antiquity was surely not Heraclitus. I know you will tell me, that after my respect for the opinions of fools, I might quit my present situation without entering into another; but the fools told me that I must have a situation in society. I proposed that of a man of letters: they told me to beware of that, because I had too much wit. I asked them what they wished 1 should do, and they answered me as follows:-'We have wished for a number of years that you should be a gentleman; we now desire that every gentleman should go to war.' ThereMalta, and set off. upon I got a blue coat made, took the cross of

"You have now numberless objections to make against the manner in which I adopted my resolutions. I have often made them against myself. I will send you the detail with all the sincerity which you know belonge to me, and will answer them with a seriousness you do not imagine me to be possessed of.

First, you will tell me that I have not

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