Chapter V: Introduction: TO (2)

Mr. Wood performed Bob Handy. He was given out in the bills for sir Philip Blandford; but was, by a casualty, obliged to take the part of Bob: a change which, on more accounts than one, the audience had no cause to regret. Nor in our opinion, had either Bob or sir Philip any cause to lament it. Mr. Wood is at home in light comedy, while Mr. M'Kenzie, whose merits seem not to be sufficiently appreciated, is well calculated for such characters as Philip Blandford.

The judgment of Mr. Warren enables him to perform any character he undertakes with propriety--but there are some parts in comedy for which he seems admirably qualified by nature and knowledge of stage business. We could enumerate several; but this is not the place for doing so--his representation of sir Abel Handy was uncommonly humorous and appropriate.

Mr. Cone's Henry was pleasing. This young actor promises well. Though, to adopt the cant of the turf, he will never be first, there is no fear of his being distanced, unless he carries too great weight.

Dame Ashfield in the performance of Mrs. Francis would be admired by Mrs. Grundy herself; and to express our opinion of Mrs. Wood's Susan would be only to repeat what we have already said of her on more occasions than one.

It gives us infinite regret to be compelled, just as we put our foot upon the threshold of the critic's office, to animadvert upon some errors and defects in pronunciation, of which we could not have imagined the persons concerned to be capable. Our purpose is to persuade the people to encourage the stage upon principles honourable to it; not as a place of mere barren pastime; but as a school of improvement. But how shall we be able to bring the public mind to that habitual respect for the stage without which it must lose all useful effect, if the actors show themselves unfit for conveying instruction. Were this to be the case, and were mere pastime the object of theatres, Astley's horse-riders, the tumblers and rope-dancers of Sadlers-Wells, nay, the PUNCH of a puppet-show, would be as useful and respectable as Garrick, Barry, Cooke, or Kemble, and the circus might successfully batter its head against the walls of that building in Chesnut-street which the sculptor has enriched with the wooden proxies of Melpomene and Thalia. But criticism will not allow this. For the sake of the stage it will exert all its might to support the actors--and for the sake of the stage it will hold them in admonition. If the established principles of literature be violated by the actors, the very ground upon which the critic would support them, is blown up by a mine of their own construction, and not only they must sink, but the critic must, for the maintenance of a just cause, put his hand to their heads and give them a lanch. The theatre is a school for elocution or it is nothing. In Great Britain it has time immemorial been attended to, not as authority for innovations, but as an organ of conveyance of the authorised pronunciation, to which the growing youth of the country were to look for accurate information of what was correct, as settled and considered by their superiors, that is, by high learned men and statesmen. If the actors, therefore, run counter to authority, and thereby endanger the cause which they are presumed to aid, the mischief is too general and extensive in its operation to be neglected or endured. There is nothing belonging to the stage which demands such strict discipline as its orthoepy, because there is none in which it can so immediately and powerfully affect the public. On this point therefore we are determined to sacrifice nothing to ceremony; being convinced that debasing the language is essentially as injurious, though legally not so punishable, as defacing the current coin of a country.

Without pointing to individuals by name, we request the ladies and gentlemen of the green-room to consult all the acknowledged authorities for the pronunciation of the words: true, rude, brute, shrewd, rule, in which the u is by some of them sounded very improperly; _true_ so as to rhyme to _few_, _new_, &c. _rule_ as if it were to rhyme to _mule_, and so on; whereas true ought to be pronounced as if it were spelled _troo_, and rhymed to _do_; rule as if spelled _rool_, and so on; and thus they will find them in the dictionaries of acknowledged authority.

Since we are on the subject we will now advert to some other words which are often most lamentably mispronounced, not only contrary to the pronunciation established by all learned men and orators in Great Britain, but exactly in that way in which skilful actors often pronounce them in Europe when they wish to mimic the most low and ignorant classes of society. Of this description is the pronunciation of the word "sacrifice." For these words we refer all whom it may concern to the dictionaries of the best orthoepists, by which they will be instructed that it is not pronounced say-crifice but sac-rifize. If the former be really the pronunciation, the old ladies who smoke short pipes in the chimney corners of English and Irish cottages, are right, and Burke, Fox, Pitt, Windham, Curran, Grattan, Sheridan, and in short every man who speaks in a public assembly in England or Ireland, are wrong. We are not sure whether Mr. Kemble, who, as an excellent critic has observed, is always seeking for novelty and always running into error, may not lately have added that patch to his motley garb of new readings; but his authority is disallowed. Even Garrick, whose claims were of a very superior kind, when he attempted to render the English language, already too unstable, more so, by his innovations, was repelled with helpless contempt.

This is a point to which it is the manager's duty to attend, because it is not a matter of doubt, nor subject to discretionary opinion. What must that part of our youth who attend to these things from a laudable desire for improvement, think, when they hear the same word differently pronounced in the same scene by different actors. Upon one night particularly, Mr. M'Kenzie several times returned the mispronounced word, pronounced as it should be, with an emphasis which could not be misunderstood: yet the mispronunciation was persisted in.

Before we drop this subject we must observe that the pronunciation of the last syllable of the word sacrifice is sometimes as erroneously pronounced as the first, indeed worse, as the sound given to it approximates to one which conveys an offensive idea. Properly pronounced it rhymes to the verbs _advise_, _rise_, and not to mice, spice, &c.

Having brought our critical journal up to the appearance of that phenomenon of the stage of this new world, Master Payne, we find ourselves constrained, by the limits of this number, to postpone our observations upon the plays in which that extraordinary boy, for so many nights, astonished and delighted crowded houses, and far beyond our expectations, made good his title to the partiality of every city in which he has performed.

CRITICISM.

THE FOUNDLING OF THE FOREST--A PLAY.

This production which we have annexed to our first number, not on account of its superior merit, but because it was the most recently published of any that has yet come to our hands, will, on the most superficial reading, be discerned to be of the true German cast. The old trick of grouping the characters at the end of a scene, and dropping the curtain upon them, by way of leaving it to the general conception of the audience to guess the rest, as is done in the Stranger, and all others of that breed, is here twice put in practice. Those who like such drugs mixed up with a _quantum sufficit_ of horror, and all the tenterhook interest, hair-breadth escapes, and incident so forced as to stagger belief, which make up the hotchpotch romances whether narrative or dramatic of the present day, will like this. Mr. Dimond has in this piece certainly shown great skill in working up that kind of materials to the production of stage effect; since to those who can be interested or affected by the marvellous and mysterious, and who love to step for amusement out of the precincts of nature, and the conduct of "the folks of the world" the Foundling of the Forest will be interesting and affecting. Viewing it with a strict critical eye, not only the plot is faulty, but the composition is in many places extremely bad. If the production of original character was the author's design, he has succeeded to his heart's content in that of Florian, which we believe has never had a prototype in this world. In this _hero_ who is sometimes as bombastical as ancient Pistol, and sometimes as ridiculous as a buffoon, the author attempts to be droll, and

Aims at wit--but levell'd in the dark,
The random arrow never hits the mark.

A London critic remarking with just severity upon the strange way in which the divinity is addressed in this piece, says, "This blot defaces almost all the modern things called dramas or plays. In the farcical comedies we have low vulgar swearing unworthy even the refuse of society; while in the _comedies larmoyantes_ (_weeping comedies_) and tragedies, we have eternal imprecations of the deity, indicative only of madness in literature." To this observation as well as that which follows from the same critic we heartily subscribe. "It is interspersed with songs, to one of which we direct[8] the reader, to remind the author of what Pope says:

Want of decency shows want of sense.

[Footnote 8: _See the Duett between Rosabelle and L'Eclair, Act.
III, scene I, page 16._]

"Among _soi-disant_ jolly fellows revelling in senseless ribaldry and inebriety (continues the reviewer) this song might be deemed very fine; but we shrewdly suspect that if the lines had been spoken at the theatre instead of being sung, the audience would have resented the insult."

It would be injustice not to add that the concluding speech of count Valmont, and many other parts scattered through the piece, must be admired as specimens of very fine composition.

MUSIC.

The lovers of poetry and music have lately been highly gratified by the publication of "A Selection of Irish Melodies, with Symphonies and Accompaniments, by Sir JOHN STEVENSON, Doctor of Music, and Characteristic Words, by THOMAS MOORE, Esq. the first number of which was published in London and Dublin in the month of February of the last year, the reviewers spoke with decided approbation. To the second number, published in April, they are no less favourable. These melodies have been for some time anxiously expected--it being pretty generally understood that that fascinating poet, Moore, was employed in the pursuit of them. He had promised them for sometime. "It is intended, says the editor, to form a collection of the best Irish melodies, with characteristic symphonies and accompaniments, and with words containing as frequently as possible, allusions to the manners and history of the country;" and in a letter of Mr. Moore's which appears in the publication, he says, "I feel very anxious that a work of this kind should be undertaken. We have too long neglected the only talent for which our English neighbours ever deign to allow us any credit. While the composers of the continent have enriched their operas and sonatas with melodies borrowed from Ireland, very often without even the honesty of acknowledgment, we have left these treasures in a great degree unclaimed and fugitive. Thus our airs, like too many of our countrymen, for want of protection at home, have passed into the service of foreigners. But we are come I hope to a better period both of politics and music: and how much they are connected, in Ireland at least, appears too plainly in the tone of sorrow and depression which characterizes most of our early songs. The task which you propose to me of adapting words to these airs, is by no means easy. The poet who would follow the various sentiments which they express, must feel and understand that rapid fluctuation of spirits, that unaccountable mixture of gloom and levity which composes the character of my countrymen, and has deeply tinged their music. Even in their liveliest strains we find some melancholy note inhere, some minor third or flat seventh which throws its shade as it passes, and makes even mirth interesting. If BURNS had been an Irishman (and I would willingly give up all our claims upon Ossian for him) his heart would have been proud of such music, and his genius would have made it immortal."

A London reviewer speaking of the first number, says, "the idea is excellent, and the twelve vocal airs which this first number of the work contains, are tastefully arrayed by sir John Stevenson, and happily provided with language by Mr. Moore.

"We are happy (continues the reviewer) to find that even where Mr. Moore's subject is amatory, his poetry is very little in the style of those baneful effusions which are undergoing so rigorous an examination. His verse is here fanciful and gentlemanly, full of his subject, and, as far as our English souls can judge, faithfully expressing it. Nothing can be more pathetic than "Oh! breathe not his name;" nothing more brilliant than "Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour;" and nothing more poetical than "As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow." We must be indulged in quoting one of those effusions of Mr. Moore's genius; and we can find none more elegant or natural than the following:

_SONG._

Oh! think not my spirits are always as light,
And as free from a pang as they seem to you now,
Nor expect that the heart-beaming smile of tonight,
Will return with tomorrow to brighten my brow.

No, Life is a waste of wearisome flowers,
Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns;
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers,
Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.

But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile;
May we never meet worse in our pilgrimage here
Than the tear that Enjoyment can gild with a smile,
And the smile that Compassion can turn to a tear.

The thread of our life would be dark, heaven knows!
If it were not with friendship and love intertwined;
And I care not how soon I may sink to repose,
When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind!

But they who have lov'd the fondest, the purest,
Too often have wept o'er the dream they've believed;
And the heart that has slumber'd in friendship securest,
Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceiv'd.

But send round the bowl; while a relic of truth
Is in man or in woman, this pray'r shall be mine,
That the sunshine of love may illumine our youth,
And the moonlight of friendship console our decline.

"The airs of the first number are excessively beautiful in themselves--particularly those of the well known "Gramachree," "Plausty Kelly," and the "Summer is Coming," and the duets of "The Maid of the Valley," and the "Brown Maid," are very delightful. "The latter (says the London reviewer) is a perfect specimen of the genius of duet, each part taking up the other alternately. The publication of these Irish airs fully discovers the source of Mr. Moore's musical compositions."

Speaking of the second number, the reviewer says it is by no means inferior to the first either in music or in poetry. The air "Oh! weep for the hour" ("The Pretty Girl of Derby O!") is harmonized in a style of great elegance; and that, and "The Red Fox," "The Black Joke," and "My Lodging is on the Cold Ground," have particularly pleased us in their arrangement. The song which Mr. Moore has written to "The Black Joke," is both poetical and political, and though the affairs of Spain have now rendered it, as to that country, an _old newspaper_, yet it is still good in the cause of Ireland."

SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.

The coterie of old ladies in the British parliament, the _chairwoman_ of which was the late sir Richard Hill, have failed in all their attempts to tie up the hands of the people from their old sports. They have declaimed in parliament, and they have declaimed in print, against all the gymnastic exercises which time immemorial have been the pride and the pastime of the hardy natives of the British islands. Never did Robespierre weep such unfeigned tears over "sweet bleeding humanity," as those good souls have shed over the broken heads, and black eyes, and bloody noses of the Bull family, who, obstinate dogs, will still go on and laugh at their ladyships. Indeed Bonaparte himself, whose interest it really is, could not more anxiously desire the abolition of those gymnastic exercises.

The sports of England are horse-racing; fox, hare, and stag-hunting; coursing with greyhounds; shooting, fishing, bull-baiting, wrestling, single stick, pugilism, pedestrianism, cricket, &c. These are practised by all ranks and on national accounts, are encouraged by all the wise and patriotic men of the country; some few, and those mostly fanaticks, excepted. To those games they add, in Ireland, the noble sport of hurling, in which that vigorous race exhibit such prodigies of strength and activity as induced the celebrated Arthur Young to speak to this effect in his Tour through Ireland: "In their hurlings, which I would call the cricket of savages, they perform feats of agility that would not do discredit to Sadler's Wells."

The gymnastic games have been long carried on so systematically that they make as regular a part of the public intelligence as any that finds its way into the public papers, and have, like the theatre, their appropriated periodical publications.[9] On this subject we would say much more, as we mean to present our readers with such things as appear curious or extraordinary in those publications; but by way of a beginning, and to pave the road for the reception of this part of our work by the public, we beg leave to offer, not to their hasty perusal, but their profound consideration, the following defence of pugilism, written, it is said, by that profound statesman, patriot, and scholar, William Windham, whose eloquence and wit caused sir R. Hill's bull-baiting bill to be laughed out of the House of Commons.

[Footnote 9: The Sporting Magazine for one.]

"I lay it down as a principle, that in every state of society, men, particularly those of the lower ranks, will ever require some means of venting their passions and redressing personal affronts, independently of those which the laws of their country might afford them; and that it is of more benefit to the community that these personal contests should be under such regulations as place bounds to resentment, than that they should be left to the unrestrained indulgence of revenge and ferocity. In most countries on the northern continent of Europe, bodily strength exclusively decides the contest; hands, feet, teeth, and nails are all employed, and the strongest gratifies his resentment by biting, kicking, and trampling upon his prostrate adversary.[10] In the south the appeal is usually to the stiletto, and a _colpo dicoltello_ is so common at Naples, that there is hardly a lazarone who has not the marks of it on some parts of his body; not a year passes in which there are not hundreds of assassinations in this city. Now, observe the different effects of a different principle: A sailor, some time since, at Nottingham, lent an aeronaut his assistance in preparing the ascent of his balloon; when receiving a blow from one of the by-standers while he held a knife in his hand--"You scoundrel," exclaims the tar, "you have taken the advantage by striking me because you knew that, as I held a knife I could not strike you again." Under similar circumstances, what would have been the conduct of a Genoese or a Neapolitan?

[Footnote 10: He might have added gouging, as practised in the
southern States of this Union.]

Boxing, as it is conducted in this country, is a remnant of the ancient tilt and tournament, conducted on the principles of honour and equity; a contest of courage, strength, and dexterity, where every thing like an unfair and ungenerous advantage, is proscribed and abhorred. It is a custom peculiarly our own, and to which probably we are not only indebted for the infrequency of murder and assassination, but also for the victories of Maida, and Trafalgar.

Some persons are willing to allow these effects, provided the practice was confined to casual contests, and not extended to public combats and stage fights. These, they say, induce the laborious men to quit their occupations, and serve as a rendezvous for the disorderly and the profligate; but is not the same objection to be made to all amusements in which the lower orders are peculiarly interested, and where else would men of this description practically learn, that the gratification of their personal resentments must be limited by the laws of honour and forbearance? Had Crib struck Gregson after the decision of the contest in his favour, what would have been the indignant feelings of the surrounding multitude, and what would he not have experienced from their resentment? And are these feelings not worth inculcating? will they not characterise a nation, and are they not the genuine sources of generosity and honour? If it be admitted, which I think cannot be denied, that any advantage be derived to society from individuals in these combats being restrained from giving full scope to ferocity and revenge, these advantages must be exclusively ascribed to the custom of public exhibitions. It is from these that all regulations and restrictions originate--it is from these they are propagated, and with these they will be extinguished.

"I am not without apprehension, that from abhorrence of what some call brutal and vulgar pursuits, the noble science of attack and defence should be in future proscribed at the seminaries of Eton, Winchester, and Westminster, and that little master should be enjoined by his mama, in case of an affront, to resort to his master for redress and protection. To the custom, indeed, as it now prevails, the English youth are, in a great measure indebted for their nobleness and manliness of character. Two boys quarrel, they agree to box it out--they begin and they end by shaking hands; the enmity terminates with the contest--And what is this but a lesson of courage, magnanimity, and forgiveness? the principles of which are thus indelibly impressed on the mind of the boy, and must ever after influence the character of the man.

"Away then with this effeminate cant about maintaining order and decorum, by the suppression of the public exhibitions of manly exercises. To them the individual Englishman owes his superiority to the individual of every other country, in courage, strength, and agility: and as a country is composed of individuals, to what other causes can England more reasonably impute her proud preeminence among nations which she now enjoys, and which she will ever maintain till this spirit is tamed into servility, under the pretence of applying salutary restrictions to the licentiousness of the people."

After the foregoing essay, a parallel drawn between English men and English mastiffs by the celebrated cardinal Ximenes comes not unappropriately in this place.

The cardinal, who was minister to one of the French monarchs, observed that the English, like their native mastiffs, lived in a state of internal hostility. "The cause," said he, "which creates a canine uproar, every one knows, is a bone; whence among the English, every statistical elevation, as well as other causes of contest, is called A BONE OF CONTENTION. During the time of profound peace, these island dogs are always growling, snapping at, and tearing each other; but the moment the barking of foreign dogs is heard, the contention about bones ceases, the whole species become friends, and with one heart and mind they join their teeth to defend their kennels against foreign enemies."

The following extraordinary circumstances are selected from the British sporting intelligence of the last year.

"A herdsman lately met a fox in the morning, on a mountain in the neighbourhood of Ballycastle (Ireland). On his approach, the animal did not offer to avoid him, but allowed him to come close up, when he struck it with a stick and killed it. On examination the fox was found to be completely destitute of teeth, and is supposed to have been blind with age.

"A fox lately turned out at Fisherwick-park, the hunting seat of the marquis of Donnegal, being hard pressed, forced his way into the window of a farm house, and took shelter under the bed of the farmer's wife who had not an hour before lain in. The feelings of all parties may easier be imagined than described. The good woman, however, suffered no material injury by Reynard's unexpected visit, who was taken and reserved for the sport of another day.

"On Wednesday last, about six o'clock, a covey of partridges were seen to pitch in the middle of the CIRCUS, Bath, supposed to have taken refuge there, after having escaped from the aim of some distant gunner. Under the effects of fright and fatigue six were easily caught by three servants, and strange as it may appear the three servants of three eminent physicians who reside in that elegant pile. Doctor F.'s man secured three; doctor P.'s two, and doctor G.'s the other bird. A _consultation_ afterwards took place respecting the fate of these poor tremblers, when it was humanely determined that they should be taken in a basket to some distance, and liberated, which was accordingly done. A keen sportsman would not approve of this forbearance; but perhaps none of the doctors had taken out a license to kill--GAME.

"A male and female hare were put together by lord Ribblesdale for one year, when the offspring amounted to sixty-eight. A pair of rabbits inclosed for the same time produced above three hundred. The value of rabbits' wool used annually in the manufacture of hats in England is two hundred and fifty thousand pounds.

"A few days ago a hare was observed lying before a door in Manchester-street, London. The poor animal was immediately pursued, and in less than a minute the street was crowded: she succeeded in making her way down through Duke-street, followed by an immense mob. The novelty of a hunt in such a place caused every person in the surrounding streets to join in the chase. Notwithstanding her numerous pursuers she made her way down Oxford-street and into Stratford-place, where she got into the corner next to the duke of St. Alban's house, and remained quietly until she was taken alive by the duke's porter in the presence of an immense concourse of spectators.

"On the twenty-ninth of October last, in the afternoon, a fox was seen crossing the fields of Camptown in Bedfordshire, followed by a shepherd's dog. The fox first made his way into the grounds of the reverend Mr. Davies's boarding-school, at Campton, where the boys were at play. Reynard was no sooner in the midst of this juvenile assembly than a tumultuous uproar assailed him, from which he fled with all speed through a border plantation into the road, and crossing to the house of the reverend Mr. Williamson the minister of the parish, he bolted through the glass into the library. Here a female servant was cleaning the room, who by the sudden and unexpected appearance of this new visitor was thrown into fits. The family running into the apartment found the fox skulking in a corner, and the poor girl lying extended on the floor. With some difficulty she was recovered, and master Reynard was bagged for a future chase. Nobody can tell where the chase commenced, but the dog is known to belong to a shepherd at Meppershall, the adjoining parish to Campton.

"The Cranborne chase pack had one of the finest runs ever known in the western part of the kingdom. They unkennelled at Punpernwood, four miles east of Blandford. The fox went off immediately for "the chase," and having taken a round in the West-walk, broke off over Iwern hills, and entered the vale of Blackmore, leaving the parish of Shooten to the left, making his play towards Duncliffwood near Shaston; but having been headed, he bent his course to the river Stow, which he boldly crossed in defiance of the flood, and after running the vale many miles passed through Piddleswood towards Okeford, Fitzpaine, but the hounds pressing him hard he was obliged to return to the cover, where having taken a turn or two he broke on the opposite side near the town of Shirminster, and crossed the commons to Mr. Brunes's seat at Plumber, where he entered a summer-house, passed through the chimney flue, and entered a drain, whence being bolted, he was run into and killed at Fifehide Neville, fourteen miles straight from the place where he was found, after a chase of two hours and ten minutes.

BACKGAMMON.

"It appears from the glossary to the Welch Laws that the game of backgammon was invented in Wales, sometime before the reign of Canute the Great, and that it derived its name from _Back_, which in the welch language meant _little_, and _Cammon_, which in the same language signified _Bottle_.

"A blacksmith of Winchester in Hampshire, undertook, for a wager, to shoe six horses, and make the shoes and nails himself complete in _seven hours_. He accomplished it in twenty-five minutes less than the time.

"Mr. Brewer of the Crown inn, Nothingham, undertook for a wager of forty guineas to go with a mare belonging to him in a cart, to Newark and back again, being a distance of _forty miles, in four hours_. He performed it in twelve minutes less than the given time. Considerable bets were laid against the performance. The mare is under fourteen hands high.

DICK THE HUNTER.

"A poor fellow, half an ideot, has by his singularity got himself so noticed by the sporting gentlemen at Newmarket, that his picture has been painted by Mr. Chalon, and engravings from it have been published. He was intended for a blacksmith, but being untractable, was allowed to follow his own inclination. Being always fond of hunting he soon attracted the attention of the gentlemen of the chase, and never failed joining the hounds whenever they made their appearance. Dick is such an amazing swift runner that he keeps in with the hounds for many miles together, to the surprise of all the gentlemen, who confess him to be a very useful man among them, as he instantly discovers the track of a fox, and is very clever at finding a hare sitting, and who therefore support him. He never goes out without carrying a knife, a fork, a spoon and a spur, which are all of his own making, a performance that shows him not to be destitute of ingenuity, as they are not separately made, but contained in one, and with these he is at once equipped either for sporting or eating. The spur he uses for pricking himself, which he fancies enables him to keep up with the hounds. He frequently uses it to the no small amusement of the spectators. His dress is quite as singular as his mode of life, for he always wears a long surtout coat, a hunting-cap, a boot on one leg and a shoe on the foot of the other--and thus equipped he runs with the speed of a hunting-horse, clearing with ease all the ditches and fences the riders do.

"One of the best packs of hounds in England was most completely beat lately by a fox. The latter was turned out before them near Wold Newton, in Yorkshire, and after running rings for sometime, went off for Scarborough, near which place the hounds were so completely knocked up that he beat them in view, for the huntsman could not get them a yard further--a number of riders lost their horses in the cars, and were seen wading up to their necks to catch them again. The fox ran upwards of twenty miles.

"In the discussions which have arisen in and out of parliament in England about the abolition of the Briton's old favourite sports, it was conceded by all but a few, that from the custom of boxing, singlestick and backsword playing, wrestling, &c. arose the good temper which distinguishes that people--Englishmen being less subject to violent fits of anger than the people of any other nation in the world. In the compass of eighteen pages of a work now before us we have details of no less than two grand matches of singlestick, one Wiltshire against Somersetshire, and the other Somersetshire against all England, for large purses. In both cases the champions of Somerset county beat; and what must astonish those who hear it, the victors (though men in the lowest classes of life in one case) shared the prize with the vanquished. In the former, Somerset gave nine broken heads and received seven--in the latter, gave eight and received six. The Wiltshire men went to Trowbridge in Somersetshire, the appointed place of meeting, attended by some of the leading gentry of Wiltshire, and the gentleman who was appointed by them to preside, bore public testimony to the liberal and kind treatment his countrymen experienced.

"Any person who has seen the farce of Hob in the Well, performed, will remember to have seen a specimen of this kind of prize fighting, for which as well as wrestling, the people of Somersetshire have for ages been renowned. In Scotland they excel at the backsword--the Irish too are admirable hands--but neither have the temper of the English; "Oppression makes a wise man mad;" what should it do then with a poor peasantry? The tempers of the English have not had that to irritate them. We will close this subject with a letter from an intelligent Londoner, who was travelling through Hampshire.

"Passing, sometime since, through Rapley Dean, Hants, my attention being attracted by a crowd of rustics on a little green near the road I turned my horse thither, and arrived in the time when a lame elderly man, who I afterwards found was the knight marshal of the field, from the middle of a ring made by ropes, proclaimed, that "a hat worth one guinea was to be played for at backsword; the breaker of most heads to bear away the hat and honour," and inviting the youth there to contend for it. A little after, a young fellow threw his hat into the ring and followed, when the lame umpire called out "a challenge," and proceeded to equip the challenger for the game. His coat and waiscoat were taken off, his left hand tied by a handkerchief to his left thigh, and a stick, with basket hilt, put into his hand; he then walked round the ring till a second hat was thrown in, and the umpire called out, "the challenge is answered."

"As soon as prepared, the knights met, measured weapons, shook hands, walked once round, turned and began the contest. In about a minute, the umpire called out "About," when they dropped the points of their weapons and walked round, and this calling I observed, was repeated as often as the umpire judged either distressed. After some twenty minutes play, some blood trickled down the challenger's head; the umpire called "Blood;" and declared the other to have won a head.

"When both left the ring another hat was thrown in, and the challenge again accepted, and played off in the like manner, till the umpire announced there were four winners of heads, and proceeded to call the ties, that is, he called on the winners of the first two heads to play together, and afterwards on the winners of the third and fourth heads; after which the winners of two heads each played for the hat, and the proud victor (Morgan) thus to earn it, broke three heads. I was much struck with the amazing temper with which the game was played: not a particle of ill-will was shown, two young fellows, who played together forty-five minutes, and in the course of it gave each other many severe blows, one alone of which would have satisfied the most unconscionable taylor or man-milliner breathing, drank frequently together between the bouts, shaking hands as often as the weight of the blows given seemed to require it of their good-nature. Indeed it appeared to be a rule with each pair that played, to drink together after the contest, and a general spirit of harmony seemed to prevail. This game is certainly of great antiquity, and the only relick (with the exception of wrestling) of the ancient tournament. The knight defied with throwing down his hat or gauntlet--the rustic gamester does the same, and is equally courteous with the knight towards his opponent: nor were there in this instance village dames or damsels wanting, to animate the prowess of the youth.

"It has been asserted, that these exhibitions engender a ferocious spirit; but were I to judge from what I saw, and from the inquiries I made into the characters of the players at Ropley Dean, from the farmers on my right and left, I should pronounce quite the contrary; and think that as long as the sword is used by our cavalry and navy, and as long as we wish to entertain in the nation a fearless, generous, martial spirit, we should encourage the like pastimes at our fairs and revels."

MISCELLANY.

A general sense seems to pervade all the most intelligent men of Great Britain that a reformation is wanting in almost every department of life in that country. The corruption of public taste in dramatic literature and acting, and in most of the fashionable amusements of the high flyers cries aloud, no less than that of the state, for a heavy-handed scourge and receives it. Among other things, the _musico-mania_ is attacked as having reached the highest acme of absurdity. The Covent Garden proprietors are very roughly handled, but not more roughly than they deserve, for hiring Madam Catalani at the enormous salary of four thousand pounds sterling and a free benefit for the season, with a provision annexed, which is thought insolent, degrading, and unjust; no less than that of her French husband putting what fiddlers he pleases into the orchestra. The public prints are filled with remonstrances to the people, whose attention is directed to the storm which was raised on a similar occasion in 1755 and 1756, and which burst with such tremendous mischief on the head of Garrick. One writer thus vehemently expresses himself: "Shall a judge of the land be required to exercise the faculties of his vigorous mind, which have been cultivated and matured by an expensive education and the most laborious study; shall he be continually employed in discriminating between right and wrong, in the adjustment of individual differences, and in protecting the persons and properties of the honest and peaceable part of his majesty's subjects from the assaults of violence and the stratagems of fraud; shall his sensibility be wounded, and his heart pierced by the painful necessity to which he is frequently reduced of passing on his fellow-man those awful sentences which the nature of their crimes, and the voice of Justice imperiously demand; shall he, in short, be compelled to discharge the duties of an office which necessarily renders his nights anxious and restless, and subjects him in the day to the most irksome fatigue--and shall he, for all this fatigue of body and unremitting solicitude of mind, receive a salary scarcely exceeding _half_ the sum given to an ITALIAN CANTATRICE for the display of her vocal powers for a few nights?"

The fact is that the robust and vigorous appetite of the English has been worn down by the intemperate use of German dramas, and is so vitiated and enfeebled that it can swallow nothing but hot spiced trash, or water gruel spoon-meat. Are the French wrong in calling John Bull _stupide barbare_ when they see him pouring thousands into the laps of foreign singers--and for what?--why, to sing such songs as this:

Tom Gobble was a grocer's son,
Heigho! says Gobble;
He gave a ven'son dinner for _fun_,
And he had a belly as big as a _tun_,
_With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy_,
Ah, hah, says alderman Gobble.

The servants ushered the company in,
Heigho! says Gobble;
The dinner is ready, quoth Tom, with a grin,
So he tucked a napkin under his chin,
With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Ah, hah, says alderman Gobble,

Then Betty the cook-maid she gave a squall,
Heigho! says Gobble;
Poor John the footman has had a fall,
And down stairs tumbled, ven'son and all,
With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Alas! says alderman Gobble.

So down the alderman ran in a fright,
Heigho! says Gobble;
And there sat John in a terrible plight
Astride on the ven'son _bolt upright_,
With his handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Dear me! says alderman Gobble.

Was ever man so cruelly put on,
Heigho! says Gobble;
Get off the meat you rascally glutton,
You've made my ven'son a saddle of mutton,
With your handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Good lack, says alderman Gobble.

Lord, sir, says Betty, what a _splash_,
Heigho! says Gobble;
'Tis a monstrous bad _rumbistical_ crash,
But tomorrow I'll tickle it up in a hash,
With your handy dandy, bacon and gravy,
Ay, do! says alderman Gobble.

This vile, low, degrading farrago is taken from an opera called the Russian Impostor, or Siege of Sloremskho.

After such trash it will be delightful to turn to some lines, written by lord Byron on this general subject of complaint. They are extracted from an excellent poem entitled "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, a Satire," with notes by the author.

Now to the DRAMA turn--oh, motley sight!
What precious scenes the wondering eyes invite!
Puns, and a prince within a _barrel_ pent,[11]
And Dibdin's nonsense yield complete content.
Though now, thank heaven! the _Roscio mania's_ o'er,
And full-grown actors are endured once more;
Yet, what avails their vain attempts to please,
While British critics suffer scenes like these;
While Reynolds vents his '_dammes_, _poohs_' and '_zounds_'[12]
And common place, and common sense confounds?
While Kenny's World just suffered to proceed,
Proclaims the audience very kind indeed?
And Beaumont's pilfer'd Caratach affords
A tragedy complete in all but words?[13]
Who but must mourn while these are all the rage,
The degradation of our vaunted stage?
Heavens! is all sense of shame and talent gone?
Have we no living bard of merit?--none?
Awake, George Colman! --Cumberland, awake!
Ring the alarum bell, let Folly quake!
Oh, Sheridan! if aught can move thy pen,
Let Comedy resume her throne again,
Abjure the mummery of German schools,
Leave new Pizarros to translating fools;
Give, as thy last memorial to the age,
One classic drama, and reform the stage.
Gods! o'er those boards shall Folly rear her head,
Where Garrick trod, and Kemble lives to tread?
On those shall Farce display Buffoonery's mask,
And Hook conceal his heroes in a _cask_?
Shall sapient managers new scenes produce
From Cherry, Skeffington, and Mother Goose?
While Shakspeare, Otway, Massinger, forgot,
On stalls must moulder, or in closets rot?
Lo! with what pomp the daily prints proclaim,
The rival candidates for attic fame!
In grim array though Lewis'[14] spectres rise,
Still Skeffington and Goose divide the prize.
And sure _great_ Skeffington must claim our praise,
For skirtless coats and skeletons of plays
Renowned alike; whose Genius ne'er confines
Her flight to garnish Greenwood's gay designs;[15]
Nor sleeps with 'Sleeping Beauties,' but anon
In five facetious acts comes thundering on,[16]
While poor John Bull, bewildered with the scene,
Keeps wondering what the devil it can mean;
But as some hands applaud, a venal few!
Rather than sleep, why John applauds it too.
Such are we now, ah! wherefore should we turn
To what our fathers were, unless to mourn?
Degenerate Britons! are ye dead to shame,
Or, kind to dulness, do you fear to blame?
Well may the Nobles of our present race
Watch each distortion of a Naldi's face;
Well may they smile on Italy's buffoons,
And worship Catalani's pantaloons,[17]
Since their own drama yields no fairer trace
Of wit than puns, of humour than grimace.
Then let Ausonia, skill'd in ev'ry art
To soften manners, but corrupt the heart,
Pour her exotic follies o'er the town,
To sanction Vice and hunt Decorum down:
Let wedded strumpets languish o'er Deshayes,
And bless the promise which his form displays;
While Gayton bounds before the enraptured looks
Of hoary marquises and stripling dukes:
Let high-born lechers eye the lively Presle
Twirl her light limbs that spurn the needless veil;
Let Angiolini bare her breast of snow,
Wave the white arm and point the pliant toe;
Collini trill her love-inspiring song,
Strain her fair neck and charm the listening throng!

[Footnote 11: In the melo-drama of Tekeli, that heroic prince is
clapt into a barrel on the stage: a new asylum for distressed
heroes!]

[Footnote 12: All these are favourite expressions of Mr. R. and
prominent in his comedies, living and defunct.]

[Footnote 13: Mr. T. Sheridan, the new manager of Drury Lane
Theatre, stripped the tragedy of Bonduca of the Dialogue, and
exhibited the scenes as the spectacle of Caractacus. Was this worthy
of his sire, or of himself?]

[Footnote 14:
Oh, wonder-working Lewis! monk, or bard,
Who fain would make Parnassus a church-yard!
Lo! wreaths of yew, not laurel, bind thy brow,
Thy Muse a sprite, Apollo's sexton thou!
Whether on ancient tombs thou tak'st thy stand,
By gibbering spectres hail'd, thy kindred band;
Or tracest chaste descriptions on thy page,
To please the females of our modest age.
All hail, M.P.![a] from whose infernal brain
Thin sheeted phantoms glide, a grisly train;
At whose command, "grim women" throng in crowds,
And kings of fire, of water, and of clouds,
With "small gray men," "wild yagers," and what not,
To crown with honour thee and Walter Scott:
Again, all hail! if tales like thine may please,
[b]St. Luke's alone can vanquish the disease;
Even Satan's self with thee might dread to dwell,
And in thy skull discern a deeper hell.

[Footnote 14a: See a poem to Mr. Lewis, in the Statesman, supposed
to be written by Mr. Jekyll.]

[Footnote 14b: St. Luke's is an hospital for lunatics in London.
_Editor of the Mirror._] ]

[Footnote 15: Mr. Greenwood is, we believe, scene-painter to Drury
Lane Theatre--as such, Mr. S. is much indebted to him.]

[Footnote 16: Mr. S. is the illustrious author of the "Sleeping
Beauty" and some Comedies, particularly "Maids and Bachelors."
_Baculaurii Baculo magis quam lauro digni._]

[Footnote 17: Naldi and Catalani require little notice--for the
visage of the one and the salary of the other, will enable us long
to recollect these amusing vagabonds; besides, we are still black
and blue from the squeeze on the first night of the lady's
appearance in trowsers.]

A London critic adds the following pertinent observations: "Thus far our author concerning the stage, to which we add an observation or two of our own. We certainly think the _barrel_ a curious asylum for a distressed prince; but when we reflect on what kind of princes and heroes the modern stage and modern authors exhibit, (the seige of St. Quintin for instance, by the same author, Mr. Hook) we cannot help exclaiming (no plagiarism, we hope)

We with the sentence are indeed content,
To see _such_ princes in _such_ barrels pent.

And as a barrel is described by our best lexicographers to be "any thing hollow," what vehicle more appropriate could be found? The ingenious author, was surely a favourite of the barrel, and well acquainted with the virtues of a _cask_; although according to sir Walter Raleigh, "some are so ill-seasoned and conditioned that a great part of the contents is ever lost and cast away."

Respecting Mr. Reynolds's indulgence of himself, in perpetual repetition of his vocables,[18] we should be glad to have it in our power to affirm that the _beef and mutton_[19] author was the only one who disgraced himself by such contemptible degradation; but, alas! the pages of our work have too often exhibited similar complaints against the majority of our great playwrights--many of these _gentlemen_ being reduced to silence, without their auxiliary _dammes_!

[Footnote 18: Damme, pooh, zounds, &c.]

[Footnote 19: "Authors have lived and still live who write for
what they call _fame_! --For my part I write for more substantial
food--_beef_ and _mutton_ are the objects of my ambition."
--_Reynold's Preface to Begone Dull Care._]

We differ widely from our author respecting Mr. T. Sheridan's _stripping_ of Bonduca--for we really think it worthy the son of that poet, who, neglecting his own genius and the duties of a regular practitioner, condescends to turn quack, and bedizen that high German doctor Pizarro, in an English dress!!

Apropos of awaking George Colman! --We beg the noble lord's pardon; but we are not in such a violent hurry to disturb this gentleman; for if, when awake, he should not acquit himself better than in his last production of the Africans, we think the sounder he sleeps the more solid will be his reputation. Therefore,

Sleep on, George Colman! prithee, don't awake!
Nor let the alarum bell thy slumbers shake!
Lest jokes like _Mugg's_[20] should make our senses quake!

[Footnote 20: One of Mr. Colman's witty characters in the
_Africans_.]

Why our author has coupled John Kemble's name with that of Garrick we cannot conceive; but that there appears more rhyme than reason in it, we can safely aver. We have somewhere heard that "a live ass is better than a dead lion," which we quote, not as individually applicable, but as a general adage; for we disclaim personalities, and well know that J. K. is an eminent actor, and one whom we have not niggardly praised. Yet we will not disparage departed excellence for any person existing; and therefore cannot avoid wishing our young author had seen Garrick, and bearing in his "mind's eye" his natural acting of Lear, Hamlet, Macbeth, Richard, &c.--he might then go and witness the performances of Mr. Kemble--and judge!

CORRESPONDENCE.

The conductors of the Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor, have already to make acknowledgments to correspondents. Scarcely had their intention been promulgated when they were favoured with a letter, which, in less than a week afterwards was followed by two more, all of them upon the same subject, though evidently written by different persons. It had before been the intention of the conductors to call the public attention very soon to that very point to which these letters are intended to direct them; and conceiving that a fairer occasion for doing so can hardly occur than these letters afford them, they hasten to lay the contents of them before the public.

"_To the Conductors of the Dramatic Work to be published by Messrs. Bradford and Inskeep._

_November 27._

"Sirs,

"From what I can learn about your intended publication I like the idea, and have no doubt it may be of great use. I have often said that such a thing was much wanting, for I look upon a playhouse to be a very good thing, often keeping young men from worse places, and young women from worse employment. But if our playhouse goes on as it does, it will soon be a worse place to go to than any I allude to. Last evening I brought my family to see the play, and I assure you, I often wished we were all away again, the scandalous talk in the gallery was so bad. The noise was so great that there was no hearing any thing else. The players' voices were ten or a dozen times interrupted so that they could not be heard, and two or three fellows in the gallery were particularly scandalous. Above all the rest there was one, a finished vagabond, who spoke smut and roared it out loud, directing it to the ladies in the boxes. If any of you was there, gentlemen, you must have noticed it; if not, I can't write such filthy words as was spoken the whole evening. My wife begged me to come away on our little girl's account who was with us. It is not the players you ought to criticise, they behave themselves--but it is those vagabonds that think they have a right to disturb the house because they pay their half dollar a piece. I think it your duty to take notice of this, and I beg you will.

A CITIZEN."

N.B. They in the pit were bad enough, and so was some in the boxes.

_To the Editors of the Mirror, &c._

"Gentlemen,