ficer, half dead with fright, thought these trials would be sufficient, but he was mistaken in his calculation. Buonaparte next armed himself with a long fowling-piece, and made the same experiment on the shoulders, back, and breast of the poor, trembling patient. Happily, the cuirass resisted, and saved the inventor from so cruel a trial. 66 How much am I to pay you," said Napoleon, "after this noble exploit?""Eighteen thousand francs," stammered out the frightened artificer, almost deprived of his senses. -"No such thing sir," replied Napoleon, "I shall give you thirty-six thousand;" and gave an order on his treasurer for that amount. ANACREON,-ODE 3. A FREE TRANSLATION FROM THE GREEK. 'Twas midnight,-and Boötes' hand And rude assailed my portal beams: "Guides, with no light, my dismal path." I pitied this, his tale of woe, Trimm'd my dull lamp, and ope'd the door, Flew from the string, swift onward hied, LOVE leapt, rejoiced, and thus he cried,- ARCHERY. J. B. KID Choice Popular Novelties. IDD'S LONDON DIRECTORY, and AMUSEMENT GUIDE (the ONLY COMPLETE "Picture of London " ever published); containing a Vivid Picture of 'Life after Dark;' and illustrated throughout with 38 engravings, by George and Robert Cruikshank, Seymour and Bonner. 11th edition, price 5s. 6d. elegantly bound. KIDD'S HOW TO ENJOY PARIS. 3rd edition. 1s. 6d. KIDD'S HOW TO ENJOY BOULOGNE. Third edition. 1s. 6d. KIDD'S HINTS TO CARVERS; with 39 Engravings of Fish, Flesh, and Fowl. 6th edition. 1s. 6d. KIDD'S PARISIAN and ENGLISH COOKERYBOOK. 5th edition. 1s. KIDD'S SCIENCE OF ETIQUETTE. 12th edition, 1s. 6d. Beware of Counterfeits and Substitutions. KIDD'S LITTLE WORLD of GREAT and GOOD THINGS. 6th edition, 6s. bound. KIDD'S GOLDEN KEY TO THE TREASURES OF KNOWLEDGE. 5th edition, 6s. bound. KIDD'S PRACTICAL INSTRUCTIONS IN THE ART OF ANGLING. 7th edition, 1s. 6d. HOW TO MAKE EVERY BODY COMFORTABLE; illustrated by Cruikshank. 8th edition, 1s. 6d. TEASING MADE EASY; by a Lady. Ditto, ls. THE LADIES' and GENTLEMEN'S ORACLE of TASTE and FASHION. 8th edition, 1s. BUBBLES FROM THE RAILWAYS, &c. ; illustrated by Cruikshank. 6th edition, 1s. 6d. SIX HINTS TO BACHELORS. 11th edition, 1s. THE BOOK OF COURTSHIP. 10th edition, Is. 6d. THE BOOK OF MATRIMONY. 10th edit. 1s. 6d. THE MATRIMONIAL SKETCH-BOOK. 12th edition, 1s. 6d. THE LOVER'S OWN BOOK. 8th edition, 1s. "These little volumes," says the Times, "are not only the most amusing, but they are the most edifying, gleaned from the most exclusive sources, and displays vast ingenuity on the part of the compiler, who has given for a mere bagatelle, and in the convenient form of a Pocket Dictionary, the pith of the most valuable and expensive Works of the last three centuries, grave and comic. They contain also much original and clever matter, and are adapted as well for the studious as for the lovers of light and piquant reading.' of their class. The information contained in them is London: W. KIDD, 7, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden; and George Mann, 39, Cornhill. Also, in Liverpool, by Ross and Nightingale; and in Manchester, by Lewis; and George Simms. Printed by J. Eames, 7, Tavistock St., Covent Garden. Published for the Proprietor by GEORGE DENNEY, at the Office, 7, Tavistock St. Covent Garden: sold also by Hetherington, 126, Strand; Strange, 21, and Steill, 20, Paternoster Row; Purkiss, Compton Street; and James Pattie, 4, Brydges Street, Covent Garden. A NEW AND FASHIONABLE WEEKLY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, MUSIC, AMUSEMENT, EXHIBITIONS, VARIETIES, SATIRE, AND THE STAGE. VOL. I.-No. 28.] "QUALITY, NOT QUANTITY."-Common Sense. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1837. THE AMUSING FELLOW. [From Fraser's Magazine of the current month; a peculiarly interesting and attractive number, full of "good things."] "O think not my spirits are always as light, And as free from a pang, as they seem to you now.' MOORE. Poor Jack Lackland was the sole son and heir of a country gentleman, who began his career in the possession of hereditary wealth, and left his successor to enjoy the nothing that remained of a once flourishing and industriously squandered patrimony. The latter derived, it is true, some satisfaction in the recollection, that no less a person than a king of England had been his namesake; and he cultivated his pride by the consideration of his having a right, so soon as he might be enabled to pay both tailor and tax-gatherer, not only to wear a coat of superfine gentility, but likewise to mount heraldic honors, and carry arms." He was, nevertheless, "crest fallen" under the sense of his poverty; and could not help in some measure envying those, who, having no "arms to" carry," could yet "stand at ease.' " When his stinted education was completed, and himself thrown upon the world to manage as best he might, with "nothing but his poor spirits to feed and clothe him," he found himself surrounded by a host of welldoing companions, who had each inherited from the humble industry or good fortune of their fathers, an in come, which, in the eyes of poor Jack, was princely. In fact, the idea of pecuniary independence was, as far as he was concerned, an extravagant chimera-a sort of gorgeous night-mare-which he dared not encourage, -a pleasure-fraught incubus which only visited the heaving chest of prostrate hope, when it slept under the mal-influence of indigestion. The virtue of his ima[No. 13, NEW SERIES.] [PRICE ONE PENNY. gined extremity was this, that he instantly made up his mind to the worst; and any thing, therefore, which might hereafter improve upon beggary, would be thankfully received as a distinguished blessing. He started in a profession, which, of all others, requires practical experience, and extensive connexion, and soon formed a numerous acquaintance, for he was AN AMUSING FELLOW. He was sought for in evening parties, where he read farces, and sang comic songs; danced in spite of the shoe which pinched his heel, and laughed in opposition to the anxieties which weighed upon his heart. The young ladies opened their albums to his pencil, and every young gentleman took wine with him at supper. The mammas enquired into his "ways and means," and the papas offered him a seat in their carriage home. Then would his bachelor friends visit him at his lodgings, regarding the bottles of port and sherry which went their rounds with such continuous motion as the chance-elected delegates of a "Want of money large constituency in the cellar. makes one sad;" but sadness and he knew no companionship, and money therefore was abundant with him. When his visitors departed for the night, he sent them laughing from his threshold. It was with difficulty they got away from such AN AMUSING FELLOW. slight move in his profession-just enough to talk of, In the course of time, Jack succeeded in making a and no more, for he had done it gratuitously. Yet it is, perhaps, wrong to say " gratuitously," since he had an invitation or two to take his mutton at the dinnertable, and afterwards to "eat fire" in the drawingroom of his employer. "Never mind," said he, " le bon temps viendra;" so he announced his name and profession on a brass doorplate, and sat himself down in his office with all the becoming sedateness of a man of business. There he fagged early and late,-not for pay, but merely for employment, volunteering his assistance to the niggardly, in the hope of winning the notice of the generous. From the numbers who flocked to the office door, you and so, indeed, he was,-for there was no end of euswould have thought him o'erburdened with occupation; tomers who came to beg, and of droppers-in who came to laugh; and he had enough to do to keep up his stock of alms for the one set, and of jests for the other. He sometimes attempted to hint to his merry visitors that his profession (though one in which he gloried) was adopted from necessity; that his time and wits were his only means; and that, although capable of a jest, he was by nature a serious man. He hoped this might turn the current of their favor into a more profitable channel; and, at all events, he trusted they would remember to speak of his professional aspirings, should opportunity occur. Many were the opportunities; yet was he never remembered except as Jack Lackland, the AMUSING FELLOW. When occasionally heart-sick under the depressing influence of "hope deferred," his companions would say, "nay, cheer up. A fellow with such talents as yours is sure to get on, and to make friends wherever he goes." "No," said Jack, "I only make fun wherever I go; and when my audience have laughed me out, they make off." "Why," the other would say, "there was Mrs. ****, the other day (the wife of one of the local "great ones,") dying to see you." "Well," replied Jack, "I believe she may have been dying; for she has since seen me, solicited my company, and laughed at my jokes; and she this morning, on meeting me, cut me dead. But it's all regular," continued Jack; "they who are content to purchase favor with a song, must be also content with the experience, that favors so lightly obtained are as lightly lost. By the time that you shall have sung yourself out of your voice you will have sung yourself out of your character; and the laughers will then unite against you in a chorus of contempt. The amusing poor gentleman, and the beautiful poor woman, are much in the same predicament. Both are attractive-alive to flattery, and therefore susceptible of seduction. You serve them with adulation until they serve you; And when you have their roses, You basely leave their thorns to prick themselves, And mock them with their bareness."" Thus, no one was better acquainted than Jack with all the prudential maxims which govern the conduct of those who have, in their blessed nature, no fun to interfere with their straight-forward progress in the beaten tread of sobriety. Neither had he any more control over his affections than over his wits,-for he committed matrimony. The lady had a little money, and a great deal of good sense. She had laughed at his drolleries with the rest of the world; but he fell in love with her for not despising him afterwards. It was curious to watch her, as she watched him, when, under the excitement of a room full of applause, he was giving yet more and more rein to his comic Pegasus. She would sit looking on him, like the good genius of man, witnessing, with questionable satisfaction, the temporary success of an innocent, but, at the same time, less than profitable, race against that jog-trotting old Dobbin, which worldly men, and old maids who have forsworn the world, call "Propriety." She knew what was to follow that continuous elevation of the soul's merriment, which, while it lasted, seemed incapable of qualification. She saw the balloon, inflated by the unsubstantial vapor of gratified vanity, mounting higher and higher "amid the shouts of the multitude;" and she only feared the descent of the parachute, which in the silence of domestic retirement, was subsequently to follow; or we may find another similitude for the career of an AMUSING FELLOW, who so often goes up like a rocket, and comes down-like the stick! Beware, ye fair ones who would be linked to AMUSING FELLOWS! Beware how ye subject yourselves to be only endured for the sake of a husband, who is himself only desired for the sake of his song. Beware how you take upon yourselves the duties of a 'drag' to be hung as much out of sight as possible, a dangling encumbrance, while the coach is running along the sunny level of excitement; and only to be serviceable as a clog to the wheels during the progress of self-abandonment down the shadowy steep of reaction. Beware how you run the risk of proving, that he who may be all in all to his company, may be some thing worse than nothing to his wife; that he who, in the evening party, is obliging, bland, and cheerful, may carry home with him nothing but selfishness, moroseness, and gloom; and that he who, in the glare of a drawing-room lustre, flits about as lightly and gaily as a moth, may shew himself at the domestic hearth as dull and dumpish as a chrysalis. * Poor Jack worked his way onward through all the good and evil of his career as an entertainer, and ultimately made a few friends, who saw there was something in him more than laughter. This was particularly evident in a little occurrence which took place when I was first introduced to him. He had been delighting two or three of us at his lodgings with a flow of wit and spirits, even more full than usual; when, suddenly discovering that we had far exceeded the intended hour of our departure, we hurried away altogether. Having occasion to call on him early next morning, I found that he was still in bed, and observed the supper-table just as we had left it, with the addition of a scrap of paper, on which was pencilled the following: "Good night, my jocund revellers,— A moment past, how light my mirth- I lean my heated brow. Yet, wherefore this? My conscience brings There was no evil in my mirth, Nor poison in the bowl: The friends I pledged, I dearly loved,— A phantom sorrow haunts my heart,- How loudly laughed they at my mirth, I went into his bed-room, and looked at him significantly, holding the paper in my hand. "Aha," said he, "you have found me out, then?" "Just so," I replied; "but why assume, in the company of your newly made acquaintance, a character which is so foreign to your real feelings?" "Not so," said he, "I assume nothing that is not native to my mind; but am so ridiculously alive to the sweets of applause, that I only exhibit so much of my nature as appears calculated to excite the pleasure of those about me.' "for sup "And what reason have you," I rejoined, posing that the graver properties of your mind would not prove acceptable?" "Merely this," he replied: "I find that affectation is almost always on the side of the sentimental-that persons, who look superciliously on a piece of true English humor, will afterwards turn up their eyes in adoration of an amazingly indecent song, delivered in particularly bad Italian, to the meaning of which they have, of course, been utterly insensible. In short, a professed attachment to the imagined super-gentility of feeling and soul is the resource of those who are too obtuse to comprehend a joke, or too phlegmatic to laugh at one. They really care no more for the sombre than for the sparkling-for that which is classical than for that which is slang but it is necessary, as pretenders to mind, that they should exhibit some sensibility; and they therefore choose the saving grace of sentiment, before what they conceive to be the questionable refinement of livelier matter. It is impossible for a Tom Noddy to impose upon us by the mimicry of a hearty laugh; but he may readily effect an exclamation of Charming, charming! even while his remnant of honesty gives the lie direct to his words. My own observations have led me to conclude, that the simpleminded, generally, are more alive to the gay than to the grave-that they are sufficiently bored with the solemn noodledoms of pretension, to give a welcome to the more humble playfulness of mirth whenever they can meet with it; and that he, who would be popular as an AMUSING FELLOW, must act farce in company-and tragedy" (continued he, with a tear and a sigh)"and tragedy-at home!" Poor Jack! I suspect this was frequently the case with himself: and if the few stanch friends, to whom I have before alluded, had not taken him by the hand, on the strength of qualities far other than those which first recommended him to society, I fear he would have gone onward to his grave, simply as an AMUSING FELLow a poor unpaid player-and that some of his quondam applauders would have written "Buffoon " upon his tomb. Othello. Be We chant of Venice, which, with some few excep- Haymarket. The Love Chace still Covent Garden.-There has been no- leads the van, and we are glad to observe fuller thing new here since our last, save the addition houses to witness its performance. It is a play of Mr. PHELPS to the establishment. This gen- that will bear seeing at least half-a-dozen times tleman has twice played Othello, but not made-nay, a dozen, provided ELTON and Miss VANany impression in it. MACREADY'S Iago, perhaps, rendered him rather timid. The Bridal, and Fra Diavolo, still continue attractive. sides these, we have had the Stranger, and Virginius, both well cast, and admirably performed. The stage-appointments at this theatre are excellent. Not a footstep is to be heard behind the scenes, nor is the prompter visible. Drury Lane, these minutia, which are of vast importance in the effect to be produced, are altogether disregarded,-much to the injury of the establishment. The grand spectacle of Aladdin, produced on Monday, is, we think, likely to prove attractive. The taste of the public for the marvellous, is continually on the increase. Serle's new romantic drama, called the Parole of Honor, is to be produced to-night. We have heard great things of it, mais nous verrons. At Drury Lane.-Mr. BUNN is again at his old tricks. Observing the opera of Don Juan underlined for the last six weeks, to be played at the City of London, he contrived to get the same piece up for his own theatre to be played the same night! a pitiful attempt to injure a very peaceable establishment. In spite of his opposition, however, we have to inform him that the City of London has not yet closed its doors; unless, indeed, to keep out the overflow of visitors who have crowded in during the week. We were unable, last week, from a press of | matter, to notice the performance of the Mer | | DENHOFF could be dispensed with. The former jumps about so distressingly, and looks such unutterable things,' as to be positively a bore; whilst the lady, by her whining and aggravation, makes us wish her at the —no matter where! Mrs. NISBETT, Mrs. GLOVER, STRICKLAND, and WEBSTER, however, amply compensate for these drawbacks. They all have characters which suit them to a tittle; and, what is still better, they make the most of them. The Romantic Widow is still a favorite, and affords Mr. RANGER an admirable opportunity for establishing himself a public favorite. His personation of a Frenchman is perfect of its kind. In addition to the above, we have had T. P. CooKE as William, in Black Eyed Susan, Mrs. WAYLETT as Susan, Mrs. HUMBY as Dolly, and BUCKSTONE as Gnatbrain. We never saw this nautical drama better cast, or better played. St. James's.-With the exception of the Cabinet, in which BRAHAM appears as Orlando, there has been little, since our last, worth noticing. Natural Magic, a contemptible affair by SELBY, has been thrust down the public's throats,-but it won't do.' The pretty Mrs. STIRLING, by her vivacity and talent, has saved it from instant damnation, but it is an abortion that should be quickly put out of sight. Bachelors' Buttons increases nightly in attraction, and is, perhaps, the best vehicle ever introduced, for the display of Mrs. STIRLING'S wonderful abilities. Adelphi.-We are glad to see that the ponderous burletta of the Death Token has been withdrawn from this lively establishment. Though a favorite with some, it was too absurd an affair to please even an Adelphi audience, for any length of time. The acting of Miss TAYLOR, too, as Laurette, which we witnessed last Saturday, was insufferably disgusting. We were not wrong, we find, in the remarks we formerly made respecting this young person. The folly of her friends has already produced the effects we anticipated. She is now flippant, pert, and forward. Rory O'More still continues powerfully attractive, and has, during the week, had a slight alteration in the cast,-Miss SHAW having taken Mrs. YATES' character of Kathleen. This young lady evinces, whenever an opportunity is afforded her, (as on the present occasion), that she can accomplish far more than she has yet had allotted to her. She is both a fascinating actress, and a sweet vocalist,-warbling her little songs most melodiously. We trust she will be brought more prominently forward than she has hitherto been; for she is a universal favorite. On Monday was produced, a new his torical burletta, in 3 acts, called Valsha; or, the Slave Queen; Mrs. YATES, of course, playing the heroine. It is one of the most gorgeous spectacles we ever witnessed; and the expense lavished on the scenery, dresses, and decorations must have been enormous. The scene is laid in Prague, and the incidents, which are full of interest, arise out of the ambition of Valsha; who, for the sake of obtaining a crown, commits acts of rashness which bring down upon her the fury of an enraged populace, by whom her life is eventually demanded, and to whose wrath she is ultimately sacrificed. The whole piece is full of interest; but the third act is so pregnant with horror, that we could hardly have believed it possible that an English audience would have tolerated it. It was, however, eminently successful, and bids fair to have a very long run. Of the actors, we would particularise Mrs. YATES, MISS SHAW, O. SMITH, WILKINSON, and SAVILLE, all of whom entered with the greatest spirit into their several characters, and were loudly applauded. The last scene was magnificent, and formed a coup de spectacle superior to any thing of the kind we remember ever to have seen. Valsha is hurled from the battlements, and dashed to atoms. Her executioner exults in his prowess, but is immediately informed by Prince Ludgar's nurse, that he is the murderer of his own mother! On learning this horrible intelligence, he becomes frantic; and spite of the interference of the guards, who rush forward to prevent him, he takes a fatal leap over the ramparts, and dashes himself to pieces on the rocks beneath. On this, the curtain falls. Mrs. YATES was loudly called for, and led forward by Mr. YATES. Her reception must have been highly gratifying to her feelings. New City of London. The operatic spectacle of Don Juan, revived on Monday, was eminently successful; but we have no room this week to enter into details. In our next, we shall report fully on its merits. The house has been crowded every night. The Olympic, Victoria, Sadler's Wells, and Surrey, are, as usual, doing well. They have not, however, produced any novelties since our last, with the exception of Paul Clifford, which has been revived at the last named theatre, and become highly popular. THE STOLEN KISS. TO MARY ANN SMOOTH'D be that brow, and chased the frown W.K. LADIES' SECOND THOUGHTS. It is generally said 'second thoughts are best,' and that young ladies who pretend to be averse to marriage, desire not to be taken at their words. A lover asked his beloved if she would have him? "No, no, John," said she, "I cannot,-positively cannot; but here, John, listen! on second thoughts, you may have me if you wish it." CHIT-CHAT. Miss CRUISE has been playing at the Perth theatre, previous to her going to Edinburgh, where she is engaged by Mr. Murray to play the leading business for the ensuing season. WEEKES also has been playing at Perth. Mrs. FITZWILLIAM is performing in Dublin to good houses. Goldsmid, Miss Pelham, the Bedouin Arabs, and Brooks, the quondam young Roscius, are also there. They will be succeeded by Charles Kean, and Power. MORI is at Brighton. He has been giving concerts there. Also at Chelmsford. PAUMIER is still playing with much success at Bury. On Monday last, he sustained, by particular desire, the part of Sir Thomas Clifford, in the Hunchback. Sheridan KNOWLES and Miss Elphinstone are at Liverpool, where they have appeared in the last new comedy of the "Love Chace." An EQUESTRIAN COMPANY, under the direction of a Madame de Bache, is performing with great success at with their feats, and lately invited the whole diplomatic Constantinople. The Sultan is exceedingly delighted corps to one of the representations. Printed by J. Eames, 7, Tavistock St., Covent Garden. Published for the Proprietor by GEORGE DENNEY, at the Office, 7, Tavistock St. Covent Garden: sold also by Hetherington, 126, Strand; Strange, 21, and Steill, 20, Paternoster Row; Purkiss, Compton Street; and James Pattie, 4, Brydges Street, Covent Garden. |