8

CLARE,

d'Oppede, were attended with more Original Communications.
numerous details of cruelty than all
those under Mary; and in one single
night more persons perished than in
the five years and a half of her wretched
reign.

The persecutions under Francis were the forerunners of all that happened in the ensuing reigns; and cruelty, which at this polished period, was very great in France, increased as the nation became more refined. The reign of

THE NORTHAMPTONSHIRE PEASANT, To the Editor of the Literary Chronicle, SIR, With much respect for your in partial review of Mr. John Clare, the Northamptonshire Peasant's poems, I venture to call his attention, through your pages, to the observations which I am about to make, that he may further encouraged to pursue the ce

be

1

court of the palace, the blood of the murdered flowed ankle deep, and there was not a street in Paris without its assassinations. Every man killed every enemy, or rival, or creditor he had. Velly, vol. iii. p. 468. Every species of outrage was executed upon the dead bodies during three days; and a sash (écharpe) in the form of that worn as the badge of the triumphing faction, wis cut for the Duke d'Armagnac, out of his own flesh, and hung across his corpse. Three thousand five hun-Henry II. was full of religions perse-lestial art of poetry, with the easiest dred persons perished in three days; cutions. The strictest orders were and the Septembrisers of the fifteenth given to the judges to show no mercy stood that many original geniuses have and best success. It is well under: century were applauded by the chiefs to protestants. Some of the parlia-stood that many original geniuses have of the nobility, some of whom, it is ment were put in prison for having become ruined imitators by yielding said, gained three hundred thousand proposed to moderate the penalties their judgment to the voice of party crowns by their exploits.-(Ibid. p. against them. All who interceded in criticism, and have sunk into oblivion, 471.) Immediately afterwards, the their favour were considered as accom-under the pressure of eavy and malice, Queen Isabella of Bavaria, with the plices; and at the rejoicings for the as though originality should be clipped) Duke of Burgundy, returned to Paris birth of Charles IX-a dreadful omen and toned into a particular school, in-, in triumph; and the streets, from of his future reign-it was thought a timating the unworthiness of genius. which the blood, shed by her orders a proper accompaniment to the festival being schooled by nature and operated day or two before, was not yet washed to make a bonfire of living heretics, on by inspiration. Whoever is versed away, were strewed with roses for her which the monarch applauded from in periodical literature knows how poor, solemn entry. The reign which fol- the windows of his palace; though it Keats was buffeted from one page to lowed put an end to the disturbances, seems he was much affected when he another, how much ill-nature was shed and suspended, for a long time, the heard the screams of his household tai- in lines of ink, and what rancorous cruelty of the nation. One of the molor-one of the victims. The shorter spleen appeared in print, because he. narchs, however, whom they called the reign of Francis II. was of course less was fostered by a political writer. Grand Roi, was present at an execution bloody; but the name of Charles IX. Fortunately, however, for classical of Calvinists, thus described by Da- is sufficient to call to mind all that is and self-taught writers too, history preniel as an act of exemplary piety of horrid. Beside the St. Bartholomew,sents a long roll of geniuses who have Francis I. which in England at least seems to treated unjust criticism with that neghave absorbed all indignation, there lect which it has merited. Keats is an occurred, in his reign, the massacre of exception, but his constitution, like Vassy and a civil war, which summed his taste, was delicate; like a rose-leaf, up in a very small space of time, much he was easily blown upward in his fanmore blood and cruelty and murder, cy, or driven downward by the sadness Mr. Clare is than our entire wars of the Red' and of his lonely spirit. White Roses. The age of Lewis XIV. otherwise. His genius is of the maswitnessed the massacres at the Hotel culine order, from whose mauly nature. de Ville, when the people, too impa- the sensibilities of feeling issue, but tient to make distinctions between never more successfully than when be friends and foes, massacred all they describes the crinkle of a primrose-leaf met, Mazarines and Frondeurs. The or the fluttering of love's confusion, same reign, which the French have de- His element is under a hedge, among signated as one of the great epochas the various grasses and herbs and the whole species was improved and his eye in the sun-beam wins his adin the history of mankind, by which mosses; whatever little object draws dignified, produced, beside the mas miration and love. His first concepsacre of the Hotel de Ville, the revo- tion is natural and striking; therefore, cation of the edict de Nantes, the Dra- the crown of his bat aids his memory, wars in the Cevennes, and the devasta-quire but little more embellishment or gonnades, the Camisards, the religious to paper; the lines are written, and recorrection. The advantages of a thou-. tions of the Palatinate. All the horrors which we have re- sand hallowed volumes of English po counted, (and we have not given a sin-ets, I conceive, would be of injury ra gle one which is not extracted from a ther than service to him, for his poetic French historian, and which does not reading is already manifest, and imita rest upon French. authority,) and an tion, however, humble or elegant, will infinitely greater number, which we be the result; that have spared our readers the paius of perusing, were committed.

Le soir du méme jour six coupables furent conduis à la place publique où l'on avoit préparé des feux pour les brûler. Il y avoit au milieu de chaque bucher une espèce d'estrade élevée où on les attacha; ensuite on alluma le feu au-dessous deux, et les bourreaux, lachant doucement la corde, laissoient couler jusqu'à la hauteur du feu ces misérables pour leur en faire sentir la plus vive impression; puis on les guindoit de nouveau en haut, et après leur avoir fait souffrir ce cruel tourment à diverses reprises, on les laissa tomber au ̧milieu des flammes où ils expirèrent.'

Our Mary is justly stigmatized as a monster; yet we are not aware that she ever took the diversion of the stake in person; besides and this alone may serve to mark the feelings of the two nations with regard to cruelty-we do not; adore we execrate her memory. During her reign, too, not more than 283 persons perished by religious persecutions; but Mezerai expresses hinself thus in praise of Francis I.; retics in his reign, and by his order, were burned by dozens, sent to the gallies by hundreds, and banished by thousands. The persecutions against the Waldenses, at Cabrieres, Merin dole, Carcassone, &c., commanded by Francis, and executed by the Baron

He

and

Young Edwin was no vulgar boy;

Deep thought oft seemed to fix his in

fant eye.

One reason, why so many strike | their lyre in praise of poesy' is, that they partly acquire a good ear for rhyme, a correct method for the delilivery of it, and attempt, but seldom produce, more than excellent verses. Mr. Clare is aware that poems, like timber, can be measured by feet, and finished off like picture frames, yet, if the timber be unsound at heart, or the frames without good pictures, neither the one nor the other are of much value. Poems should be skilfully put together, contain solid sentiments, and the most touching pathos of nature,

"Divinely felt, to make another feel.' Shakespeare, with a few original authors, should be the only ones worthy of great application I believe Bloomfield's amiable muse was never much benefited by listening to the sound of read the poets!'-study the A's down to the Z's,'

way

Range them by day and meditate by night.' This is an affectation for perfection, at which soi-disant critics have themselves failed. Who questions that Lord Byron is not, in some respects, the worse for his poetical reading? How many Deserted Villages' have been attempted since Goldsmith's career, yet unsuccessfully. The habitual reading of poetry alone is sufficient to make a poetaster feel his through a monthly periodical. But, allowing one exception, I verily believe, now and then, a fine poem is scattered in periodical pages, far exceeding half, nay, four-fifths of puffed off published poetry; and I have often wished that a work were patronised by the literati to select the best pieces for after ages' from those which are destined for the soap and candles.' I would not keep Mr. Clare in ignorance of the silliness of some poets, the eccentricity of some, and the disproportionate nonsense of others; but I would not advise him to trust to the strength of their weakness, which is irretrievable, from vain notions and obstinate party considerations. If he march the fields with his eye directed to nature he will be original; if he closet himself and imagine nature, he will be an imitator. London has given birth to poets, but the country has made them. Edinburgh will produce a Pirate,' but his attributes have been drawn from the scenes of action. Ramsay and Burns danced with the shepherdesses and sung with hobbinols. Cunningham used to sit on the furrows, like Prior's Cupid's ploughboy,' and listen to the calm wanderings of the stream.

·

satirical effect, they but ill accord with the other parts of this structure. With respect, I am, Sir, your's, Oct. 13, 1821. ABACO.

ORIGIN

OF BURYING IN CHURCHES, AND ON THE SOUTH AND EAST SIDES OF CHURCH-YARDS.

Morland loved to lean over bridges and
broken trees, in sober abstraction, be-
fore he soiled his brush. Falconer had
never written his Shipwreck' but for
a tempest; Somerville the 'Chace'
but for his actual experience in field
sports; and Olney's harp might have
been unstrung but for its attractive ru-
ralties. Hence, if Mr. Clare will be
great, and form a constellation for the UNTIL the time of Cuthbert, Arch-
heaven of eternity, let him read good bishop of Canterbury, whose pontifi-
prose with assiduous and ardent atten- cate began in 740, and ended in
tion; let his mind be stored with a 748, the custom of burying within the
clear knowledge of things in and out precincts of towns and cities did not
of their nature; let him reason with prevail in England; and it was not
truth and virtue: his beauties will until towards the Norman conquest,
touch the heart while they strike the that persons, however great their rank,
eye, and do much towards refining were buried in churches, unless it hap-
the understanding, which is the spi- pened that they were removed thither,
ritual essence of true poetry. Well on account of their extraordinary sanc-
then, after all, it will appear, that I tity, or in order to be reputed and wor-
would have him unacquainted with shipped as saints. Thus the body of
metrical authors, ancient and modern, Queen Adylthrydor St. Awdry, who
—not so; I would warn him against died of the pestilence, 669, was trans-
the danger of the shallows, the rocks, lated into the church by her sister; and
and the storms: he may dip, but not Bede tells us, that the Lichfield Pre-
meditate; skim, but not dive. He late, St. Chad, was first buried near
may consult, but only with a view of the church of St. Mary, but that when
correcting his errors. He will have to St. Peter's Church was built, his bones
occupy his niche in Fame's proud were removed thither, agreeably to the
temple.' He should watch the ellipsis canon of King Edgar, which enjoined
and the eclipses. The apostrophe is a that no one should be buried in a
very useful little fellow, but should church, whose life had not been a
not be abused. That is is preferable goodly one, and worthy of such a bu-
to that's; against to 'gainst. A hob-rial. The origin of the general cus-
bling line is, like a lame ploughman, tom, now prevalent, of burying in
out of its place. Inferior is not full churches (a custom of which almost
enough for three syllables at the close every one complains, though no one
of a Sonnet,' Mr. Clare will com- seems anxious to put a stop to it), ap-
prehend me by re-perusing his works.*
pears to have been this. Persons, of an
It is true, many provincialisms, with extraordinary sanctity, were first placed
other eccentricities, might be brought there as in the cases of St. Awdry and
forward, but his experience will tutor St. Chad. Founders and patrons, and
him to expunge them as he advances other great persons, afterwards crept as
towards beatified love and eternal tri- near to the fabric as they could, some
umph.
being laid in the porch; others in the
entry of the cloisters; others in the
cloisters themselves, before the chapter-
house door; others in the chapter-
house; and others in the sacristy.
Sometimes the bodies were deposited
in the wall, first on the outside (of
which there is a remarkable instance at
Lichfield) and then in the inside. In
process of time, our ancestors began to
form aisles, and to bury and establish
chantries in them, after which they
made free with the body of the church,
and lastly, except in the cases of sanc-
tity before mentioned, they had re-
course (chiefly since the reformation)
to the chancel. It appears, that, form-
erly, all persons of rank and fortune
were laid in stone coffins, if we may
judge from the number of them that

Mus.

ST. PANCRAS NEW CHURCH.
To the Editor of the Literary Chronicle.
SIR,-I have renewed my visit to the
New Church, St. Pancras, which is fi-
nishing very rapidly; and I think it
necessary to state one more objection,
omitted in my last communication:
viz, the monsters' heads that are plac-
ing round the porticos of the vestry
wings. I trust, Sir, the architect, in
his good sense, will see the propriety
of making some alteration in this re-
spect, as also with the equivocal and
grotesque ornaments over the altar be-
fore noticed, for, independently of their

The trifles which I have mentioned are

only intended as examples of carelessness and
not as injurious to the tenor of the volumes.

AMERICAN NAMES.

has been found; though Bede says,
that St. Awdry was buried, according
to her own request, in a wooden coffin.
Her sister, Sexburg, however, who suc-
ceeded her as abbess, caused her bones
to be taken up, after they had laid six-pital punishment, or laid violent hands
teen years in the grave, and placed in on themselves, were buried towards
a stone coffin. As to later times, we the north, a custom formerly much
learn from Thornton's Nottingham-practised in Scotland.
shire, and Dugdale's Monasticon, that
stone coffins were in general use, until
the reign of Henry III. inclusive;
from which period, down to Henry
VIII. their use, according to Browne
Willis, got gradually out of fashion.
The partiality to the southern and east-
ern sides of a church yard, in the cir-
cumstance of burial, may, perhaps, at
first, have partly arisen from the an-
cient custom of praying for the dead;
for, as the usual approach to most
country churches is by the south, it
was natural for burials to be on that
side, in order that those going to di-
vine service night, in their way, by
the sight of the graves of their friends,
be reminded of them, and induced to
offer up prayers for the welfare of their
souls. Even now, since this custom of
prayers has been abolished, the same
obvious situation of graves may excite
some tender recollection in those who
view them, and silently implore the
passing tribute of a sigh.' That this
- motive had its influence, may be con-
cluded from the graves, which, in some
instances, appear on the north side,
when the approach to the church lies
that way. Still, however, even on this
case, the south side is well tenanted,
and, consequently, there must have
been some other cause for this prefer-
ence. The supposed sanctity of the
east is well known, and arose from the
circumstance of our Saviour, the Sun

tain, and is corroborated by many re- tage; but this requires considerable
cords of ancient times; which mention courage; for as soon as it can erect it-
that those who were reputed good self again, the assailant runs the great-
Christians, lay towards the south and est risk of being bitten. Often, too,
east, while others who had suffered ca.it is so bold as to follow its enemy by
leaps and bounds, instead of fleeting
from him; and it does not cease the
pursuit till its revenge is glutted. In
its erect position it is so much the
more formidable, because it is as high as
a man, and can even bite a person upon
horseback. M. Moreau de Jonnes was
Of all people who ever imposed names
once riding through a wood, when his
upon a newly-discovered country, the horse reared; and when the rider
Americans have certainly been the most looked round to discover the cause of
unlucky in their choice; witness Big-the animal's terror, he perceived a Fer
muddy River and Little-muddy River, de Lance viper standing quite erect in
Little shallow River, Good Woman a bush of bamboo; and heard it hiss
River, Little Good Woman Creek, several times. He would have fired at
Grind-stone Creek, Cupboard Creek, it with his pistol, but the affrighted
Biscuit Greek, Blowing-fly Creek, horse drew back so ungovernably, that
cum multis aliis in the same delightful he was obliged to look about for some
taste. When this country shall have one to hold him. He now espied at
its civilized inhabitants, its cities, its some distance, a negro upon the
scholars, and its poets, how sweetly ground, wallowing in his blood, and
will such names sound in American cutting with a blunt knife the flesh
verse!
from the wound occasioned by the bite
ed the negro with his intention of kill
of the same viper. When he acquaint-
ing the serpent, he earnestly opposed
it, as he wished to take it alive, and
make use of it for his cure, according
to the superstitious notion of the ne-
groes. He presently rose, cut some
lianes, made a snare with them, and
then concealing himself behind the
bush, near the viper, he attracted his at-
tention by a low whistling noise, and
suddenly throwing a noose over the
animal, drew it tight, and secured his
enemy. M. Morreau saw this negro
twelve months afterwards, but he had
not perfectly recovered the use of the
limb bitten by the viper. The negroes
persecute these vipers with the greatest
acrimony. When they have killed

Ye plains where sweet Big-muddy rolls along,

And Tea-pot, one day to be famed in song,
Where swans on Biscuit and on Grindstone
glide,

And willows wave upon Good Woman's

side!

How shall your happy streams in after time
Tune the soft lay, and fill the sonorous
rhyme!

Blest bards, who in your amorous verse will

call

On murmuring Pork and gentle Cannon

Ball:

Split-Rock, and Stick-Lodge, and Two Thou-
sand Mile,
White-lime, and Cupboard, and Bad-hu-
mour'd Isle!

Flow, Little-Shallow, flow! and be thy

stream

Their great example, as it will their theme!
Isis with Rum and Ouion must not vie,
Cam shall resign the palm to Blowing-Fly,

of Righteousness, appearing in that And Thames and Tagus yield to great Big-Lit- one, they cut off its head, and bury it

tle-Dry.

THE WEST INDIA VIPER.

quarter, with respect to us; from the
tradition of his ascending to heaven
eastward, from Mount Olivet; and
from an universally received opinion,
that he will re-appear in the same By a report read before the Royal
quarter at the last day. Hence the Institute of France, it appears that the
customs of building churches with one great viper, called Fer de Lance, is one
end pointing towards the east; of turn-of the most dreadful scourges of the
ing ourselves in some parts of our pray-West Indies, but is found only in Mar-
ers, in that direction; and of being bu- tinique, St. Lucia, and another small
ried with our faces inclining that way. island. This viper is so savage, that
Perhaps an analogy was conceived to the moment it sees any person, it imme-
exist between the Sun of Righteous-diately erects itself and springs upon
ness and the material sun, from which,
persons buried within the rays of the
latter might have a better claim to
the protection of the former. What-
ever origin this preference to the south
and east may have had, the fact is cer-

him. In raising itself, it rests upon
four equal circles, formed by the lower
part of the body; when it springs,
these circles are suddenly dissolved.
After the spring, if it should miss its
object, it may be attacked with advan-

Men

deep in the earth, that no mischief may
be done by the fangs, which are danger-
ous after the death of the animal,
and beast shun this formidable reptile;
the birds manifest the same antipathy
for it as they do for owls in Europe,
and a small one, of the loxia kind,
even gives warning by its cry, that a
viper is at hand.

Three blossoms of five are yet opening their Perhaps never more in a kiss they'll meet mine, charms,

To delight and secure our affections;
While peace is our comfort,-how gratitude

In drear and lengthening night :-
For seasons gone and pleasures brief,
Hope, faith, and love, insure relief.

The mind is happy, great, and wise,
That thinks on change, and keeps
Reflection mellow'd for the skies,

Where nature never sleeps;
Nor intervenes one pang of grief:-
Earth only shews the fall of leaf.'
Islington.

THE MINSTREL's HARP.

MARIA.

THE way was steep, the ev'ning ray
Smil'd gaily in the west;
And glanc'd athwart the ruin'd tower,
That crown'd the mountain's breast.
No hospitable warder now

Within the court was seen;
No bowmen bent the trusty yew,
. All clad in Lincoln green.
But Silence held her gloomy sway
Within the ample hall,

Whose fretted roof and storied pane
Now totter'd to their fall.

High on the wall the minstrel's harp
A mournful trophy hung;

Whose chords had wak'd them to the tale

The aged minstrel sung;

Had bade the eye at Percy's fate

With tearful lustre shine;

And rous'd the soul of chivalry

To vindicate his line.

Peace to the minstrel's honour'd shade,
Peace to his ancient lore,

To thee each passing breeze shall sigh!
The minstrel is no more.'

EPISTLE

E, G. B.

From a Lover in Prison to his Mistress.

FROM cells of deep solitude, mansions of care,
Where nought can be heard but the sighs of

despair,

Nor again thy fond arms round my neck will
entwine.

Oh, painful remembrance of all my past bliss,
Full dear was my happiness purchas'd by this;
Those arms that have oft been lock'd fondly in
thine,

By power of my foe galling fetters confine,-
Those limbs that so often have borne me to
thee,

That form which hath charm'd thee no longer
is free;

Yet here, even here, tho' oppress'd by my pains,
Tho' bent to the earth by the weight of my
chains,-

Even here, in the mansion of sorrow and woe,
With transports of love my sad bosom can

glow;

Even here, in this dungeon, a prey to despair,
No friend to console or my sorrows to share,
A faint ray of hope in my bosom will gleam,
So bursts from the heavens the sun's wat'ry

beam,

When clouds from the westward its brightness
deform,

And lightnings blue flashes foretell the dread
storm!

When Fancy in slumber depictures to me
The fairest of things-the image of thee,
O then, dearest Emma, my woes are forgot,
My tortures, my prison, I care for them not;
In thy tender embrace I am lovingly prest,
With thy kiss of true love, with thy smile I am
blest;

With rapture long lost my fond bosom now
glows,

But the vision expires, and I wake to new woes:
Such, lov'd of my soul, is thy Etheldred's fate,
The offspring of sorrow, the victim of hate;
Sure demons, in euvy of all my past joy,
Were leagued in fell faction my bliss to destroy.
But hark! the bolts draw, my tormentors ap-
pear,

I go to my pallet and drop the sad tear;

They leave me, and, e'en my dull taper's with-
drawn,

My sorrows they mock, and my anguish they
scorn;

Grown frantic, I lay me along the cold stones,
And hear the damp walls echo back my dull
groans.

Ye tyrants, your tortures will soon be no more,
A few dreary hours and my sorrows are o'er;
My soul from its prison will joyfully flee,
To realms where from sorrow and care all are
free!

Farewell then, dear Emma, for ever adieu,
The last bursting sigh of my soul is for you!
i.. " SAM SPRITSAIL.

SONNET.TO MYRA.
CYNTHIA is up! and beautiful her light

Tips ev'ry leaf and dew-drop on the spray;
How sweet with silv'ry gleam the gentle sight
Seems usher'd in by her resplendent sway!
Come, Myra, forth at close of this fair day,
Now the blest hours bring harmony and
love,-

And nought can be seen but the taper's dull-Whilst Philomel its soft enamour'd lay
light,

And walls of my prison, most sad to my sight;
Borne off by fell ruffians from those I hold dear,
The freedom of writing is all I have here;
O! dearest of women, my bosom's delight,
Perhaps never more wilt thou bless my fond
sight,

Perhaps never more shall thy Etheldred hear
Thy lips breathe the vow of affection sincere.

Sings to the illuminated lamp above!
Where o'er the brightly blue ethereal plains

Venus by doves in silken car is driven,
The moon-beams of the night making her reins,
Guiding their course along the vaulted

heaven!

O light divine! whence purer pleasures flow,
Teach me thy light that I myself may know!
14th Sept. 1821.

HÁTT.

TO LOUISA GN.

THOU little cherub, in whose smiling face
The happiness of infancy we see ;
In whose unclouded youthful brow we trace
No mark of more mature anxiety;
How joyous are the moments of thy life,
Free from its care, its sorrows, and its strife.
Yet wherefore say I free: thy troubles, small
To us, perchance to thee great griefs appear;
Or in the loss of thy rebounding ball

Or broken doll, which draws thine infant
tear,

Or in the picture vanished from thine eye,
And mourned with many a deep-desiring sigh.
Alas! the human life-it seems as though,

From infancy to age, all, all, were pain;
Our pleasures fled before us, but to go-
Re-enter, but to disappear again;

DRURY LANE.-The spectacle of the Coronation has been so productive to the treasury of this theatre, that we are assured it will be followed by a pageant still more splendid, representing the principal events in the King's late visit to Ireland. Report says that Mr. Elliston has spent 70001. in preparing this gorgeous spectacle, which is expected to eclipse any thing of the kind ever produced on any stage. The rivalry of the two great houses, for the present season at least, is likely to be the rivalry of expense only; and as to those old fashioned amusements, called tragedy and comedy, they will, in all probability, be banished the stage altogether, or be left to be produced in the form of comic burlettas and melo

dramas at the minor theatres. Seven thousand pounds for a single spectacle! How many deserving authors would half this sum have stimulated to use their best efforts in the legitimate drama; but this is a consideration which cannot be expected to have much influence with managers, who rather vitiate the public taste than try to correct it. If the present rage for spectacle continues, we may expect to see the whole corps dramatique dismissed, and succeeded on the stage by troops of soldiers and itinerant minstrels, who will answer all the purposes of public processions.

the principal character becoming more subdued, we were better able to relish the forcible delineation of Mr. Terry, whose conception of the character of the freebooter, though rather differing from our's, is likely to be very popular.

On Tuesday evening, Mrs. Chatterly made her first appearance in Lady Teazle, for her own benefit; and we have much doubt that there is an actress on the stage, at present, who would have played the character better. It was sportive but dignified; the humour was chaste, and the feeling without affectation.

tharine; but why do we talk of actors, for all their exertions, and almost the story itself, were lost in the gorgeousness of the spectacle. The whole of the scenery was of the most splendid description, and the coronation surpassed any thing we ever saw (the real coronation of his present Majesty excepted). The triumphal arch in the great square of Moscow-the gilded barrier which surrounds the stage-the sound of joyous trumpets and drums, intermingled with the distant thunder of artillery-the musicians, followed by guards, whose gorgeous plumes waved in their helmets, were all faithfully exhibited. The ec- On Thursday night, Mrs. InchCOVENT GARDEN.-On Wednesday clesiastical dignitaries, with the sacred bald's comedy of Every one has his night, this theatre exhibited a striking ensigns of their faith, followed. Deputa-Fault, was performed for the first time proof of the elegance, variety, and tions from the tributary states, with their this season. Although there are many magnificence to which we have attained banners, were succeeded by the foreign comedies on the stage superior to this in stage decoration and stage effect. ambassadors, splendidly attired. The in dialogue, yet there is scarcely à betThe play was the melo-dramatic opera representative of England wore a man- ter acting play, or one in which a more of The Exile, written by Reynolds, tle and star, with an immense plume intimate knowledge of the stage is exand founded on Madame Cottin's of ostrich feathers in his hat. The hibited. Every incident, every word charming novel of Elizabeth. This Envoy of Tartary rode a beautiful seems to tell; and the humourous play was first produced in 1808, when horse, richly caparisoned. The Chi- scenes are succeeded by others of such the Covent Garden company were per- nese ambassador was borne by a noble deep pathos, that the audience are in forming at the Opera House, and was charger, and was attended by a train of smiles or tears at the will of the author. at that time particularly fortunate in horsemen. After the ambassadors The part of Mr. Irwin was sustained the performers. Mr. Young, who had came the young prince, and he was fol- by Mr. Conway, who gave a fine picpreviously attracted much notice at the lowed by Elizabeth, reclining in a lofty ture of the heart-stricken husband in Haymarket, confirmed his fame in the car of gold, lined with blue silk, under scenes of such deep domestic affliction. character of Daran. Mrs. Dickons, a most splendid canopy, and drawn by In this character Mr. Conway display then in the zenith of her powers and six horses, attended by grooms in im- ed much true feeling; he was fully popularity, was Katherine. The songs, perial livery. The procession moved master of the character, and in every which had been composed by Maz- to the cathedral, which was truly a scene in which he appeared he played zinghi, afforded fine scope for her rapid splendid scene. The main aisle from the heart to the heart. Mrs. execution, and the performance of this stretched to a great distance, and, in- Chatterley, who excels in scenes of part was considered as one of her great- creased by the perspective art of the distress and tenderness, played the est triumphs. The other leading cha- painter, terminated in a window richly part of Lady Eleanor admirably. Terrácters were in good hands, and the illumined. The roof was hung with ry, in one of the most admirable chasuccess of the play was most decided. numerous lustres, and the floor was racters in human life, that of the peaceThe merit of the play or its success, covered with crimson cloth. In the maker, Harmony, was quite at home, were not, however, we suspect, the middle was the sacred font, and on the and Oxberry was a good Solus. The principal inducements for its revival; left the altar, on which was placed the part of Sir Robert Ramble fell to a but, as the splendour and pageantry imperial diadem. The ceremony was Mr. Johnson, from the Bristol Thea of an English coronation had been suc- short; indeed, the scene was too daz- tre, who made his first appearance on cessful at this theatre, and was still po-zling to bear looking on for any time. the London boards. His reception pular at the rival one, the manager The whole exhibition was of the most was highly flattering; but though thought the Exile would afford hin an gorgeous and expensive description, and possessing many requisites for the stage, opportunity to render the coronation was received throughout with the and no ordinary share of talent, we con of a Russian Empress still more splen- loudest applause. Spectacle has cer- fess we thought that he had mistook the did, with the pompous offices and pro-tainly now reached its acmé, for we character, and forgot that Sir Robert cessions of the Greek Church. We cannot conceive it to go higher than was a gentleman. Of the other cha would speak of the actors, for Young, it has done in the revival of the Exile.racters little remains to be said; they in Daran, was as fine as ever; Farren The farce of the Lying Valet fol- were sufficiently well represented, and was the best Governor of Siberia that lowed, in which Mr. Meadows played the comedy was received throughout ever appeared on the stage; Liston, the part of Sharp with great spirit and with the most decided applause. Fawcett, and Egerton were excellent much comic effect. in their respective parts; the Empress Elizabeth was imperially personated by Mrs. Faucit; Miss Foote was love ly in Alexina; and Mrs. Tennant made a very favourable debut in Ka

HAYMARKET THEATRE.-The opera of Rob Roy has proved very attractive at this theatre; and, on seeing it a second and third time, our prejudices in favour of the former representation of

ADELPHI THEATRE. A new bur letta, called Bruno, has been produced at this elegant little house; it is a most laughable little production, and, with the other favourite pieces, has attracted crowded audiences nightly.