tion from Mr. Farmer, of the Eclipse, Mr. Clifton, of the Venus, Mr. Hughes, of the Albion, Mr. Gooden, of the Dart, Mr. Stephens, of the Hero, Mr. Watt, of the Magnet, Mr. Robinson, of the Columbine, Mr. Barlow, of the Harlequin, or Mr. May, of the Royal Sovereign. The female attendants (of which there is one in every steam-packet to wait on the Ladies' Cabin,) are also remarkable for their attentive civilities; and I beg leave to recommend sixpence from every lady as a very moderate return for their services.' Commend us to the "boiled leg of mutton," for assuredly this slight repast in the best cabin will not interfere with our dinner at six. But, behold us at Margate, in seven hours, without any labour on our parts-eating and drinking below-laughing, or listening to "Rule Britannia" on the deck. At Margate, as at all other watering-places, the exercise of the locomotive powers is the great object to be attained; we must all become children-never still, and ever longing to see something. Buy this pretty book, price one shilling, and then "you shall see what shall see."

you

There is a learned and amusing work just published, On the Curative Influence of the Southern Coast of England,' by Dr. Harwood, of Hastings*. The object of this volume is to recommend the very agreeable watering-place in which the author resides, to all who are in search of health. Hastings has a merit in our eyes, which most of these places of fashionable resort are wanting in. It" combines great beauty of inland scenery with that peculiar to an extensive and highly varied line of coast." So you may safely decide to try it; for your girls will find employ for their sketch-book. As to the medical part of the matter, you can, doubtless, get up some malady, even if you have not an established invalid in the family. Experimentalize upon indigestion and hypochondriasis;" you will find excellent directions for managing its cure in Dr. Harwood's book; and it is a pleasant thing to have a relapse, by indulging the enormous appetite which is a happy accompaniment of a residence on the coast.

64

We have another considerable volume on the Malvern Water.'† You will infallibly get poorly if you read so much about symptoms; and as certainly recover, if you are whisked off to Malvern, and climb the hills for a week. We do not care a pin whether "muriate of soda" or "sulphate of lime" preponderate in the wells. The mountains are fifteen hundred feet high; and the view over the valley of the Severn is unrivalled for richness and beauty.

The summer loungers are beginning to quarrel with the waters of Matlock;-and the people there have done wisely in consequence, to instruct their Guide Maker to declare that the whole matter is humbug. We agree with him, and gladly quote the following passage:

Of the medicinal qualities of the waters I shall not presume to offer an opinion; but even allowing to other fashionable places the superiority in this respect, I might inquire whether it be not a point of inferior consideration. Is it on the mineral spring, either as a bath or as a potation, that the invalid is taught to depend mainly for relief? Does not the physician, in prescribing

* On the Curative Influence of the Southern Coast of England, especially that of Hastings. By William Harwood, M.D. Colburn.

On the Nature and Properties of the Malvern Water. By William Addison, Surgeon. Callow.

The Panorama of Matlock. By H. Barker.

such remedies, calculate largely on the beneficial excitement produced by preparation for the journey; on change of scene; on change of air; on the suspension of domestic care and solicitude; on the buoyancy of spirits, produced by a continual succession of novelties; on the strength conferred by renewed habits of early rising, by daily excursions among hills, vales, rivers, rocks, and caverns, and by frequent exposure to the vicissitudes of weather; on the improved tone of the nerves, and the consequent invigoration of the corporeal and mental powers? Abstract these advantages, and what effect can be expected from the most regular use of the waters? Admit them, and leave the waters out of the question, in what degree will their general result be diminished?'

This is perfectly true. Who wants to taste of a mineral spring, when he can climb the High Tor at sunrise? Delicious Matlock! Dull as thou art to the hunter after excitements, we could linger a whole summer in thy solitudes-sigh for no raffles and concerts-be contented with the exquisite stillness of that delightful little parlour at the Temple, and thence gaze from our almost dizzy elevation upon the wild rocks that bound thy valley; or, crossing thy dark river, bury ourselves in the walks beneath those gigantic crags. What has fashion to do with a place like this?

You will put Mr. Ebers's new book* into, the chaise which takes you out of town. It is an amusing gossip about familiar names; a record of the unconquerable perseverance of a man of the world (blinded by a little vanity, we take it) who went on losing his thousands and tens of thousands, for seven years, with the old hope that something would turn up; and, above all, a most curious picture of the habits of those grand personages, who, by their avarice and caprice, continue to render the opera an almost certain ruin to manager after manager, and an especial foretaste of the punishments which await the guiltiest of mankind. Mr. Ebers has had, in truth, a very pleasant apprenticeship to this purgatory upon a small scale; and we must honestly think that the losses which at length removed him from such a field of paltry passions, are to be numbered amongst the best accidents of his life. This, however, is cold consolation.

The control of an opera-company is almost as difficult to a manager, as the pacification of a rapacious aristocracy is to a popular minister. It is quite as difficult to form a corps-de-ballet as a cabinet -and there is not a more continued squabble for the best loaf in the Treasury, than for the premier rôle at the King's Theatre.-(That pun is as good as any of Mr. Jerdan's.) We cannot follow Mr. Ebers through his long narrations of his arrangements with singers and dancers; his embassies to Naples and to Paris-his diplomatic correspondence with Lord Fife and Lord Bruce-his manifold vexations from extemporaneous colds and obstinate hoarsenesses-and, above all, the doleful particulars of his falling receipts and his rising rent. Mr. Ebers's philosophy is triumphant over all these things. See how calmly he takes unavoidable evils:—

Could the situation of manager be divested of the cares and difficulties inherent to it, it would not be devoid of pleasure, in mingling with characters strongly marked, and often highly interesting. But as it is impossible to reconcile inconsistencies, he who embarks on the sea of management must be

* Seven Years of the King's Theatre. By John Ebers. 8vo. Ainsworth.

1828.]

THE EDITOR'S ROOM.

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content to enjoy such rare moments of calm and sunshine as mingle with the storms to which he is exposed. For myself, I have rarely failed, even when most surrounded with difficulties, to make the most of the pleasant places into which my path has occasionally led, and have found in management, as in the universal business of life, that the best guardian against calamity is a disposition to be happy when in my power, and quietly to acquiesce when misfortune is inevitable.'

The last chapter of the book is, perhaps, the most interesting, for it is a sort of summary of the "Behind the Scenes" of an Opera. We must extract an amusing passage:

'The word rehearsal summons up, to all practically acquainted with its meaning, a scene beyond description. If the performances of a theatre are intended to represent the truth of human nature, a rehearsal is the living reality, the scene where the veil is rent in twain, and all the turmoil laid open to the view, which can be produced by the undisguised operations of vanity, self-love, and jealousy. The fabled crowds who petitioned heaven to allot their parts in life otherwise than Fate had cast them, are but a type of the inmates of a theatre behind the scenes, when contending for prominent characters in an opera.

Perhaps with the very first performers there is not much of this, as their right to the principal parts cannot be disputed. But dire is the struggle among all below. A part rather better than another is an apple of contention, which, to manager, director, and conductor, proves a most bitter fruit. As every person likes to have that character which may best serve-not the general effect of the piece, or the interests of the theatre, which are wholly immaterial-but his or her own object in making the greatest display possible; and as non-concession is the permanent rule of the place, the opera is placed in the pleasing predicament of being able neither to get one way nor the other. The prima donna, whose part is settled, attends the rehearsal, and the seconda, being displeased with her own station in the piece, will not go on; and the first lady, indignant at being detained to no purpose, goes away, and the business is over for the day. If the manager is positive, the lady falls ill. Biagioli, being refused a part she wanted in Elísa e Claudio,' took to her bed for two days, in consequence, as she said, of being so afflicted by my decision.

The refusal to proceed is the more effectual engine, because it puts all the rest of the company out of humour at their time being occupied needlessly; all complain, and a dialogue goes on, in which every body talks at once; and probably three different languages, at least, being simultaneously employed by different speakers, the result may be conceivable, but not expressible. The signori protest, the signore exclaim, the choruses are wonderfully in concert in their lamentations, the director commands, intreats, stamps, and swears, with equal success, and, in the midst of the Babel, the gentlemen of the orchestra, who wish all the singers at the devil, endeavour to get over the business of the day by playing on without the vocal music. The leader of the orchestra, finding all ineffectual, puts on his hat, and walks away, followed by violins, basses, trombones, and kettle-drums, en masse, and the scene at length concludes as it may, the manager, composer, and director, being left to calculate together on the progress of business.'

We cannot avoid quoting one more passage, for it is full of instruction:

The progress of Madame Pasta affords a prominent instance of the effects of study and sedulous cultivation. On her first appearance at the King's Theatre, in 1817, in company with Fodor and Camporese, little was thought of her talents, and, if not condemned, she was neglected, and suffered to depart at the end of the season without having experienced encouragement,

On most performers this negative failure would have operated to extinguish the latent flame of genius and capability. Pasta withdrew, and retiring to Italy, devoted herself unremittingly to the study of her science, and the improvement of her voice. Her genius is undoubtedly real, for she must have felt it; nothing but the full consciousness of what she might become could have strengthened her to the endurance of the cold disregard with which her commencement had been encountered.

Whilst in Italy, an English nobleman, who saw her there, said, that her exertions were unremitting; " Other singers," were his words, "find themselves endowed with a voice, and leave everything else to chance; this woman leaves nothing to chance, and her success is therefore certain."'

We have here one of the most surprising proofs of what real genius, when accompanied by persevering application, can effect: (if perseverance, indeed, be not a part of the highest quality of genius, which generally involves decision of character.) Pasta retiring for some years from a cold and common-place reception, to perfect all her powers by diligent study, and then to return in the possession of every power and accomplishment "of the first, in the very first line," is to be added to the many encouraging examples of what the energy of genuine inspiration can effect. This woman is, to our minds, the very queen of her art, because there is high intellect in all she does. She is not a pretty, petted child of fashion-she lives in a region where fashion is powerless either to elevate or depress. It is scarcely possible to imagine that she can improve; but what limits can we assign to the triumphs of such extraordinary talents?

We will suppose you now settled-whether at your country-house, or your watering-place is quite indifferent to us, so that you are comfortable. You will begin to yawn for new books. Andrews or Hookham will be enabled to send you down very few. The libraries at a wateringplace are always three months in arrear. There is a second volume of the Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo' published*. It is horribly dull. It really appears to us, from what these satellites have done since their planet burnt out, that the court of Napoleon must have been a most stupid affair; and that the world was amazingly deceived in believing that there was much general talent amongst the set-always excepting their master. We never read a book more wanting in general views than the one before us-more full of base and servile adulation-more apologetical for all that was bad about Napoleon-more cold as to the real quality of his virtues and abilities. The fellow who writes it was a sort of jailor and spy under the emperor, and he might just as well have kept the keys of the Bastile under Louis XV. for any wisdom that the Revolution had taught him. Hear how the creature speaks of what he calls "state-prisoners:"

In the first weeks of my administration the Emperor was desirous of reconsidering the grounds on which state-prisoners were detained, a circumstance that placed me under the necessity of examining them in person; and I acknowledge I could not resist a feeling of apprehension on approaching the register of the persons I detained, because, from the reports that had reached my ears, I expected to find an abyss in which innocent victims were buried alive. How erroneous was such an impression, and how basely

Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo, (M, Savary,) written by Himself, vol. ii. 8va Colburn,

calumny has been employed upon this topic! I shall explain with the utmost frankness the condition in which I found this branch of my adminis tration.

The name of state-prisoner was given to a person, who, although detained, could not be judged by the tribunals, because his family had been unanimous in urging his confinement, to avoid the disgrace resulting from any judgment given against him. In such a case, the family made a formal demand to the local administration, which inquired into the correctness of the motives alleged by the relatives for the detention of a member of their family who had incurred an ignominious punishment; after thus recognising and certifying the validity of those motives, the local administration reported the case to the minister of police, who asked the Emperor's consent for confining the prisoner; and, in order to spare the family from any humiliation, he was transferred to a house of detention at a considerable distance from them. This system had in some respects replaced the lettres de cachet of the old regime; and as we had no longer any colonies to which all worthless subjects might be removed, as was the case in former times, it was necessary to adopt some means for relieving society from their presence, upon the special demand and for the interest of private families.'

And these are fellows who presume to have talked about liberty! "This system had in some respects replaced the lettres de cachet of the old regime." Yes: at an expense of some ten million of lives; and the only difference to the victims was in the name of the police

minister.

We are angry;—and we, therefore, want a laugh. We propose to extract one out of a very meritorious work, by 'Lieut.-General Dirom, of Mount Annan, Member of the Royal Societies of London and Edinburgh, &c.** The General has made some most important discoveries, a few of which we shall select from his work, without note or comment. They furnish a body of political axioms, quite unequalled in their extent and profundity; and their novelty is superior to anything in a king's speech :

The history of the world, from the invasion of India, by the Greeks, under Alexander the Great, a period of above two thousand years, has been distinguished by a succession of well-authenticated important events.

During the illustrious reigns of George the III. and IV., Britain has been alike distinguished in arts and arms.'

The naval forces of Britain have for ages acted with decisive success.' The appointment of His Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence to the office of Lord High Admiral, may be expected to be attended with all the advantages to be derived from the exertions and influence of an heir apparent."

The occurrences of the late war produced, in the persons of Nelson and Wellington, the greatest Admiral and General, whose achievements have ever adorned the page of history."

In the field of arts, Arkwright and Watt, within the same period, have been eminently conspicuous.'

Agriculture has been enabled to provide food for the rapidly increasing population in the United Kingdom.'

In the course of the last forty years, under the wise and vigorous government of the Court of Directors of the Hon. the East India Company, subject to the controul of a Board of His Majesty's ministers, a series of conquests have been achieved.'

Sketches of the State of the British Empire. By Lieut.-General Dirom, &c.