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contrast between the glaring purse-proud osten- | refer our readers to the book itself, fully pertation of the former, and the more lofty and suaded that they will derive very great pleasure dignified remoteness of the latter. Lady Ursula from its perusal. "Vingt ans Après is a close Wainwright is another of Mrs. Gore's pleasant continuation of "Les Trois Mousquetaires;" sketches (would that the book contained more but twenty years have now passed over our heof them, and less of matter of more doubtful | roes' heads, and France is now in all the fury merit). We are told that "the inseparability of of the "Fronde"-an epoch unrivalled in any two handsome women of fashion is generally nation's annals. Boudoirs were not then the precursive of a quarrel." Lady Ursula and fashion, otherwise we should have said councils Lady Hillingdon having been friends of this of war were held in ladies' boudoirs; hut warsort, fall out about a cap and a gown (the mil-riors did then literally combat for fair ladies' liners being always, on these occasions, the un-eyesconscious cause of hostilities), and never meet afterwards but to wound the feelings of each other. Joddrell-the expectant peer, who is intended as a contrast, in every respect, to Cleve the parvenu-is a youth, who, spite of his sordid vulgarity and coarseness, is not beyond the reach of reformation. Not so the Davenports, an incrustation of pride in its worst form; not more ready to tread upon all beneath them than to shrink from the consequences by taking refuge in the privileges of their rank.

"Pour pleine à ses beaux yeaux

J'ai fait la guerre aux rois

Je l'auvais fait aux Dieux,"

writes de la Rochefoucault to one of his friends
in speaking of his lady-love. As in the "Trois
Mousquetaires," the plot is one of deep interest.
There is but one episode to which we decidedly
object; that is, the one in which the Duchesse
de Cherreux, disguised as Marie Michen, finds
takes to be a wayfairing priest.
shelter under the same roof as Attus, whom she
No doubt
Madame de Cherreux was a very giddy, frivo-
lous person; but still she would never have
acted the part here assigned her. Oh, Monsieur
Dumas, are you not afraid that the fair ghost of
Madame de Cherreux will haunt you for thus

But with all these recommendations the novel is too diffuse. If the thought which Mrs. Gore with too many of our modern novelists, deems sufficient to be beaten out into half-a-dozen works, were condensed into one, we might hope for something beyond an ephemeral story, which will have done its best if it be one of the thou-representing her? But turn we from Marie sand topics of the "season."

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Michen to the noble creation of "Monte Christo." This is indeed a surprising work. We do not intend giving any hint of the story to our readers, as we should be sorry to deprive them of the "impreme" of the incidents; but we cannot abstain from expressing an enthusiastic admiration of the powerful scenes and beautiful passages with which the work abounds. The Abbé Faria has left a lasting impression on our workings of his mighty mind, which seemed to memory. How eagerly did we listen to the burst the prison-walls, and soar in the illimitable ether! How trusting the friendship between Dantes and Faria! Then the escape of Dantés -do we not seem to see the lightning flash which discovers him clinging to the saving rock? And then, again, when we see him be come the "Comte de Monte Christo," how do we admire the masterly manner in which he wields those two powerful leavers, Wealth and Intelligence! Aye, let those who will gainsay it, but we repeat, "Monte Christo" is a noble production. What purity, what exquisite grace in Valentine! How affecting the scene in which she brings her lover to her grandfather's feet, imploring the protection of the unfortunate paralytic, helpless as herself! There are eigh teen volumes; yet we find the work too short, so intense is the interest it excites. We firmly believe the "Comte de Monte Christo" destined to great celebrity.-Une Inconnue.

LES TROIS MOUSQUETAIRES; VINGT ANS APRES. 18 vols.; LE COMTE DE MONTE CHRISTO. Par Monsieur Alex. Dumas.-M. Dumas has struck out for himself an original style of novel, which may eventually establish a new "école." We confess to be, with the generality of our sex, familiarly alive to the charms of novelty; and though-softly be it said-we own to having often lost our sympathy for the aristocratic heroines of the English novels, from the certainty that all their troubles would end in a "happy marriage," and their "true love," if at the commencement it did not "run smooth,' would eventually run" into the peaceful gulf of matrimony; hence the plots of M. Dumas have for us the same charm as an unknown and unfrequented path would for the traveller wearied by the sameness of a well-beaten and monotonous road. In the "Trois Mousquetaires" there is no marriage, and scarcely any love; yet the work is replete with such intense interest, that the reader finds it difficult to stop till the conclusion of the tenth volume. The affection which binds "Les Trois Mousquetaires" to their comrade d'Artagnan is beautifully pourtrayed. Amidst the conflicting interests of civil war, yet do these four brave youths continue faithful to their trusting league of friendship. Richelieu, Anne of Austria, Bucking ham, all well play their parts in this animated and ever-changing scene. How do we rejoice at seeing the "douze ferrets de diaments" POEMS. By Camilla Toulmin.-(W. S. Orr sparkling on Anne of Austria's graceful and Co.)-A small volume, containing a numshoulder, and thus disconcerting the deep ber of poems which have appeared from time to malice of the revengeful Cardinal! But we time in various periodicals, and also several

Paris.

hitherto unpublished. We extract one of the latter

"THE THREE FRIENDS.

"There were Three Friends-that is to say,
They were men meeting every day;

Grasping each other's hands with earnest pressure
Upon the Mart, or in the hours of leisure.

"The Eldest had a large and finely-tempered heart, Thought a few thoughts in which the world had not a part,

And, as the mountains are the first to win

A dawning glory ere the day begin,
He saw to trace his life-chart on a plan
Of simple grandeur meet for such a man.

"His acts oft puzzled worldlings, who, you know,
Bat-like are blinded by the noon-day glow
Of deeds to which they cannot find the clue
Of double motive or a selfish view.
And yet as mountain sun-crowns downwards creep
Till o'er the plain the generous day-beams sweep,
So from the height of his great soul were caught
Some peerless lessons by example taught.

"But,' says the reader, 'to these Three Great Friends,

I cannot see which way your story tends.'
Patience and yet perchance when all is told,
Meaning or moral you may not behold!
Of station, fortune, equal all had been,
But to the younger two came losses unforeseen.
Generous and prompt, the First with open hand
Made free his fortune to their joint command;
Saying, It is a gift or loan, it matters not,
According to the chances of your future lot.'
A test of friendship bravely, nobly borne;

But though the theme be much less trite and

worn,

It is almost as hard-I own, not quite-
To take with grace, as to bestow aright
Favours like this; which try mind-metal more
Than shielding life with life amid the battle's roar.

"One was profuse of thanks; yet you might see
He bit his lip half-peevishly,

And to his cheeks the chafed and feverish blood
Sent fitfully its tell-tale flood.

"The Other said, 'God bless thee!' fervently;
"God knows I would have done the same for thee.'

"And several signs stood out in strong relief
To mark the Twain ;-but, to be brief,
The One a slave, in struggling to escape,
Broke up his household gods of every shape
To melt them-in his heart-into one figure rude
Of monstrous mien, which he called Gratitude :

Until, self-tortured by his hideous guest, Day brought no peace, and night no rest! "The Oth r one walked upright as where he First knew his friend in all equality: There was no servile crouching; no revoke Of differing thoughts he once had freely spoke (For e'en as discords harmony may make, So kindred minds some different views may take). The only chain the gold 'twixt them had wrought Drew them more near, and dearer friendship brought.

"God knows I would have done the same for thee!' "I know he would have done as much for me!' Was felt-not said-by each respectively. An unsung music to themselves most dear, As one may silent read a page, not hear.

"The writhing slave knew nought of such sweet peace;

His visits shorten, and at last they cease.
As for the Lender, if his thoughts be told,
He mourns to lose a friend, and not his gold.
Unto the Other once he said, 'Your words are
true :

You've tested me; but I have tested you!
It pains my heart to know he could not compre
hend

The rights and pleasures of a faithful friend.'
"It chances,' said the Third, that you and I
Do understand each other perfectly.
But frankly tell me, do not you opine
That, out of every hundred, ninety-nine
Of poor mankind do not know how
Either t' accept a favour or a boon bestow.
No matter what on Friendship's Shrine th' obla-
tion,

They shrink in horror from an Obligation!
So little are the ties of brotherhood
Between Earth's children understood,

So few who seem such thoughts to understand,
That I could count, upon the fingers of one hand,
With whom I know such bonds might be,
And give or take all equally,

Without disturbance of our self-respect,
Or some regret the curious might detect.'
""Tis very sad!' the First one sighing cried,
"God's gifts we most unequally divide :

How shall we teach one human brotherhood ?" "Trust God! and trust the might of doing good!" The Other answer'd, 'There's a dawn draws near (May eyes grow stronger ere the noon appear, For some I know that not e'en now can bear Truth's struggling beams that pierce this murky air!)

Why, 'tis a wholesome sign, you will aver,
That even You and I can thus confer !'"

AMUSEMENTS

HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE. Previous to Easter, some little variety and improvement in the dramatis persone was made by the re-appearance of Madame Castellan, on which occasion Donizetti's Linda was produced, for the first time in the present season. Signora Gaetanina Brambilla takes the part of Pierotto,

OF THE

MONTH.

which her namesake used to sing and act so pathetically, and with such gentle beauty. Her voice, which is contralto, has a greater compass than is usual with its family. She sings steadily, but greatly lacks refinement; and on the stage is but too evidently embarrassed. Signor Botelli acquitted himself by no means satisfactorily promoted though he was to the honours of Il

Prefetto his style, dress, and action, are bom- | bell-like sweetness of her voice told with a magibastic to a degree. Linda has never become a cal effect. Perouse, or the Desolate Island, is favourite with the public; its beauties seem un- worthy of no particular notice. The only feature appreciated, and, altogether, it goes off lan- which has real merit in the whole production is guidly. On Tuesday, the 14th, Madame Grisi, Mr. Wieland's monkey; it is perfect, and Signor Mario, and Signor Lablache, re-appeared "electrified" the "juveniles" in the boxes. It in I Puritani; and, later in the week, in Don is a peculiar gift, that of pantomimic play; a Giovanni. Time deals gently, not only with the low one in point of grade, but intensity of lady's voice, but with her personal charms. skill raises it far above those illegitimate assumpSignor Mario is wonderfully improved, and tions of talent so often imposed upon the public. evidently has not reached the meridian of his The new ballet, Imelda, has proved very successpower as a singer. Lablache was Lablache! ful, more, we think, because of the "getting up;" The tonelessness of Fornasari's voice in this though the skill displayed by Mademoiselle opera is remarkably observable; and the heavi- Sali as Imelda, and Monsieur Mathis as the ness which Madame Castellan has in delivering Count Alberti, was very considerable. We canher notes was painful, as it entirely separated not, however, warrant for it a long continuance these two from the other performers when they of public favour. sang in concert. Madame Castellan is, however, improved; and her long shake at the close of the andante in "Batti, batti" won an encore. Mademoiselle Sanchioli was the Donna Elvira, and a very meagre embodiment of the rôle it was. In the quartette, "Non ti fidar," her voice mingled but very indifferently with Grisi's. There is, however, in Madame Castellan's singing great intention, with which progress is a necessary result. The ballet of Catarina we fully noticed in our last.

DRURY LANE.

Has Mr. Bunn been asleep? Where are his Easter novelties ? We suppose wit and satire are despised as vulgar-not suited to the refined spectacle and ballet-loving audience which assemble in Old Drury. Old Drury-the home of the national drama-once its throne in the metropolis-to be usurped by an insignificant company of vocalists and their meagre compositions! Where is the soul of real, and useful, and beneficial talent? Surely not in scenery and gorgeous stage-trappings and effects, or in the nymphs of the ballet? Why is Shakspeare's statue allowed to adorn the portico of such a scene? He has no business there; without Mr. Bunn-like the proprietors of certain perambulating show-carts-exhibits this as a warrant for the wonders within the walls. How woefully his "giant" dwindles to something even below the average standard of "respectable!" Where is his loftiness? Where his grandeur? The Crusaders, noticed in our last, has sufficed in the operatic department till lately, when Madame Anna Thillon made her re-appearance as Catarina, in the Crown Jewels, which, it will be remembered, was previously produced at the Princess's some time since. She is as lovely as ever, and has all her accustomed gaiety and sweetness of manner; and her exquisitely delicate and thrilling voice has even improved from that which so delighted her admirers last season. Don Henriques de Sandoval (Mr. Harrison) was but indifferently performed, and the score but illexecuted. Mr. D. W. King, as Don Sebastian d'Aveyro, was as usual, very clever, and the power of his voice had in this rôle full scope. Miss Poole's Diana was very sweet; the clear,

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66

HAYMARKET.

The Easter holidays have called the exertions of almost all the theatres into play, and the struggle has been great among them to produce the piece of the merry season; nor in burlesque alone have the managers vied with each other, but in the production of pieces of a higher character. It has been the fortune of the manager of the Haymarket to have upon the boards a comedy which nightly "draws" with increasing strength. The Beggar on Horseback has not proved the "meteor of an hour," but promises to, and has now become in a great measure, a lasting favourite. Mr. Webster, if he does not always show good judgment, at least shows unabated perseverance in all that is brought upon the Haymarket stage. The author, if his play fail, can never have had to blame the present manager, who invariably gives him a good chance: not unfrequently forcing" the production down the throats of the public, till in time, accustomed to the taste, they have begun to like it, and, at length, even to enjoy the morceau at which they had previously turned up their noses, and to admire the talent of the author, who, if they had had their own way at the commencement, they would have "snubbed." It is a well-known fact, that the Love Chase, by Sheridan Knowles, was, for fourteen nights, played to houses all but empty. The manager persevered, till, in a few nights more, persons to an immense number were obliged, for want of accommodation, to be "turned away." The Beggar on Horseback, however, has seized the public by the hand, put that hand in the public pocket, and the result has been the effect we have witnessed-namely, crowded houses, crammed to the very roof! The embodiment of the rogue, the scamp, and the profligate, by Webster, and the cool, collected man of double-play, by Farren, alone would ensure success, were they not supported, as they are, by a great and powerful body of talent and a wellconstructed comedy. We wish the writing had a little more light and shadow. It is a vivid, well-drawn sketch; but it wants the high-lights, and the depths of shadow, to render it a "picture"-an image-a second nature! There is no real wit, no real grandeur, no real pathos ;

their shadows are there, but the substance is wanting. We feel sure it is a hasty performance of the pen; the ink has not dried, while the beauties of the mind have grown, blossomed, and borne fruit; like an impatient child, the author has torn the green leaves in their pale, weak beauty, instead of allowing them to ripen | to the full lustre of mature growth. The Easter production at this theatre is The Birds of Aristophanes. Last season, Mr. Planché sat with Euripides; he has this year changed about, and is at play with Aristophanes. But, alas! The Birds do not come up to the Golden Fleece of the previous Easter. He has not given himself space to do proper justice to his subject-by no means an easy one. To use the words of a contemporary, "It is done neatly-but not well." The liberty Mr. Planché has taken of introducing Jupiter is most unwarrantable. It has been evidently avoided by his model in the most strict and obvious manner; and even when he does throw off the disguise of an inferior state, he does not, in his words, assume his place. He is too literal, too earnest; and his speech lost the savour of burlesque. However, there are many good "hits" and jokes, which told well in a house determined to laugh; and not one died away unrecognised by the holiday-making throng which crowded the house in every part. The intonations of voice through the beaks of the various birds was often extremely droll, and excited much merriment. We feel sure, however, that this will be a favourite for no very limited period. The Irish Post, Grandfather Whitehead, and other stock pieces, have, previous to the Easter production, been at times introduced; as has the Love Chase, with a new cast, though Mr. Webster supported his own and old character, Wildrake, the sportsman.

ADELPHI.

The present and latest attraction at this amusing little house has been the piece adapted from the French, and entitled Industry and Indolence, in which Mr. Wright, as Sansonet (an amorous top-sawyer), produces great merriment, in Mr. Wright's usual and peculiar style; so also does Mr. Paul Bedford, as St. Amour (a conjugal lover). The orphan Cecile, Madame Celeste performed with all the variety of energy and pathos which has won for her celebrity in this country; and, indeed, the versatility of her genius is truly wonderful. Miss Woolgar, as Batifole, was very pretty, and gained her usual mead of applause from her admirers. Mr. O. Smith acquitted himself admirably, as did the rest of the performers. Of Peter Wilkins; or, the Loadstone Rock and the Flying Indians, we shall speak at length in our next. The title is imposing enough-but, to the

LYCEUM.

Honours and Tricks has been rendered a great favourite, through the exertions of Mr. Keeley, who undergoes a variety of transformations, in the way of costume, which he makes highly amusing. A burlesque from the pen of Albert

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Smith, entitled Hop o' my Thumb, in which the "General" performs, has nightly drawn down shouts of applause; and, from its success, has induced the management to re-engage the diminutive actor, whose performances are of a most extraordinary and talented description. Not only does he recite his portion of the burlesque, but sings and dances. The first discovery of the General in a cocoa-nut was good; also when he is found secreted in the salt-box, in his mother's cottage. His review of the king's army abounds in pantomimic by-play, which the little General performs with evident relish of the ridiculous. The scene in the wood, where he is mounted in a tree, gave great cause for merriment, by his detaching the lamp from the end of the pole carried by King Cole's secretary. All the scenes in the ogre's residence were cleverly performed, especially where Hop o' my Thumb changes the nightcaps of his brothers for the crowns of the ogre's children, when the little actor gave a splendid performance of caution and silence, walking on tip-toe, with his finger on his lips. At the conclusion, we are introduced to a room in miniature, fitted up to a nicety with chande liers, glasses, tables, chairs, &c. In this scene, Hop o' my Thumb assumes the character of Napoleon, in which rôle he is doubtless well known to our readers. His carriage is introduced on the stage, drawn by its miniature ponies, in which, and amid shouts of applause, the General takes his farewell. The burlesque is cleverly written, and there are some very good jokes dispersed throughout. No pains has been spared in its production; and not only will it add to the fame of the General, but to that of the talented author from whose pen this production has proceeded. The Marble Maiden, and Nert Door, still attract, and are most cordially wel comed by overflowing houses.

PRINCESS'S.

Mr. Macready is again engaged at this little theatre, and contents himself with playing in the characters which, in a previous number, we have noticed at length. Of the new drama, enti tled Ernestine, we purpose speaking in our next. The Easter piece, Lady Godiva, has not proved quite so successful as its competitors for public favour.

SADLER'S WELLS.

It is with pain we notice the proceedings of this management. After the present season, which will be but short, Mrs. Warner quits "the boards" of Sadler's Wells; and by whom can her loss be supplied? Reports have been afloat of a reconciliation of the various parties; but we are informed, from the most undoubted authority, that such an event neither has taken, nor will take place. Easter Monday was devoted to the production of Howard Payne's tragedy of Brutus, in which, for the first time, Mr. Phelps sustained the character which Edmund Kean rendered illustrious. Brutus is a character suited in every way to Mr. Phelps's talents, and the performance was received

with every demonstration of satisfaction on the part of the audience. Several stock farces have occupied the boards, too numerous to catalogue in our present notice. On the Wednesday in Easter week a new play, by Mr. Spicer, was produced, called Judge Jeffreys. The piece, as its name implies, is historical, although there is at least as much of fiction as of history in it. Grace Pomfret (Mrs. Warner), a wealthy lady, who has passed the bloom of youth, has married a young soldier (Marston), and conceives herself to be neglected by him. This suspicion is fostered by Morgrave (G. Bennett), a discarded lover, who takes this opportunity of fostering her suspicions for the purpose of being revenged for her rejection of him. He contrives that Grace shall overhear part of a conversation between her husband and the wife of De Lisle, a proscribed rebel. This confirms her suspicions, and she retaliates on her husband by suffering Morgrave to make open love to her. Pomfret insults and challenges him. Shortly afterwards, seeing from the outside of his house a male visitor in his wife's apartments, he concludes it to be Morgrave; and, urged by the demon of jealousy, hastily denounces the destroyer of his peace-who is also among the proscribed rebels who have favoured Monmouth's invasion-to Jeffreys, but finds that he has involved his wife in the sentence. The mysterious visitor turns out to be De Lisle, who with his wife has sought refuge with Grace. The judge, with brutal humour, insists upon it that Pomfret wants to get rid of his wife, and that he shall not be disappointed. The trial takes place. The unhappy Pomfret-after having been compelled to give evidence against his wife, as a protector of the rebels, and the other prisoners-is himself involved in the sentence in an endeavour to save his wife; and all four are led to execution, when a pardon arrives, having been obtained by Lord Feversham from the king. These are good materials for a drama, and accordingly the success of the piece was great, and would have been triumphant, had the conclusion been equal to the rest. But the catastrophe was weak-the expedient of a pardon is a threadbare one, nor was it well introduced; besides, while seeking in history for materials for his play, the author should not have stopped short of inflicting that poetical justice on the head of Jeffreys that facts would have allowed him to do. The fallen fortunes and the sad fate of the inhuman judge would have been a subject worthy of the author's pen. The audience seemed to feel this, and paid him a compliment even in the expression of their disappointment; however, the dissentient voices were few, and the applause was loud and long. The acting was excellent. The mingled ferocity and humour in the Judge were very happily pourtrayed by Mr. Phelps. Mrs. Warner looked particularly well, and played with the graceful ease that is natural to her. Mr. Marston-on whom the success of the piece in a great measure depended-exerted himself manfully. Miss Cooper had very little to do. The rest of the characters were

well filled, especially the Morgrave of Mr. G. Bennett. The piece contains some excellent scenery of the architecture prevalent at the time; and the decorations and appointments are, as they always are at this theatre, complete.

MR. H. S. MAY'S CONCERT.

Mr. H. S. May gave a concert at the Southwark Literary Institution on the evening of the 31st ult. He was formerly a pupil of Moscheles, and does infinite credit to his great master. He is a pianist possessing no ordinary power. His touch is at once neat, delicate, and even; and altogether, even in this age of steam pianists, he is a very remarkable performer for one so young. He played several fantasias (which seemed to find mighty favour with his audience) in a very superior and finished manner. Various songs were successfully sung by the two charming Misses Williams, Miss Binckes, Messrs. Ransford, Kench, John Parry, and others; but the numerous encores, added to the length of the programme, compelled us to depart considerably before it was over, that we might not break into the "solemn midnight hour." The room was crowded to excess.

PANORAMA OF CONSTANTINOPLE.

The other day we paid a visit to the Panorama of Constantinople, now exhibiting in Leicestersquare, and shall not easily forget the gratification we received. Those who have read "The City of the Sultan" doubtless feel a desire to view the spots so delightfully and eloquently described by Miss Pardoe, and we can assure them they need go no farther than Leicestersquare to have their wish gratified, and see "The Queen of Cities" in all her splendour. On entering, we could have imagined that some invisible power had transported us to the top of Seraskier's Tower (whence the view before us was taken), but that some old ladies near us were descanting in loud tones on the merits of the "picture."

The first object that struck us was the Mosque of Suleiman: this does not possess the great architectural beauty of either Achmet or Bajazet, but it is the largest and most imposing of the Mahommedan temples; the dome, supported by four slender pillars of Thebaic granite, is of the same circumference as that of Santa Sophia, but of better form, being higher: close by is the burying-ground of the mosque, and the darklooking object in the centre is the tomb of Sulieman, the founder. This stupendous building stands just opposite Seraskier's Square, which being the largest open space within the walls, is the Grand Parade; here may be seen numbers of soldiers in their splendid uniform, and you can hardly feel persuaded that you did not see these ladies, with their white yashmacs, come out of the bath near them. The infantry barracks, painted blue; the bazaars and kiosks,

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