production, as it totally failed. The prologue, which was well delivered by Mr. Elliston, deserved a better connection than its alliance with this swinish family. Dec. 18, the comedy of The Will was represented for the purpose of introducing Miss Ray, in the character of Albina, which she performed with spirit and ease. Her reception was flattering, and she will no doubt become a very favourite actress, when she is more conversant with those nice and delicate discriminations peculiar to a London theatre. She is very young, has a pleasing person, and her countenance is engaging and expressive. COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE. On Thursday, the 20th November, was performed a "new grand operatical entertaininent" announced in the bills as having been in prepartion all the summer, called The Deserts of Arabia, said to be the production of Mr. Reynolds.-The following is a sketch of the fable.-A rich widow of Bassora offers her hand to the son of a merchant at Aleppo, on condition that he crosses the Deserts to join her, and the avarice of his Father obliges him to accept the invitation though against his inclination, having formed an attachment to an Arabian girl. He sets out on his journey together with an English strolling-player, disguised as the servants and under the guidance of the Grand Sultan's messenger. On their way across the Desert the merchant's son meets with his mistress, whose father has the charge of attending the sacred lamps that burn around the shrine of the Prophet, but being old and infirm entrusts the care of them for one night to his daughter, who is so overjoyed by the arrival of her lover that she neglects to replenish them and the lights expire. This subjects the father to the punishment of death, and the officers arriving at that time and finding the state of the temple proceed to inflict the penalty, by chaining himself and his daughter to a rock and there leaving them to starve. The travellers proceed on to Bassora, and upon their arrival there the rich widow proves to be the run-away wife of the player. The merchant finding his plans thus defeated consents to his son's union with the Arabian girl, and the party again set out to release the father and daughter from their distressing situation, having procured a pardon for their offence.The absurdities in this piece are numerous and extravagant, such for instance as a poor English strolling-player going to Bengal in search of his wife, and travelling, as the cheapest way, by Aleppo and across the Deserts of Arabia. The music is in the Italian style and some of the airs are pleasing, but the recitatives and chorusses are better adapted to the Opera-house than to an English theatre. The dialogue is indifferent. The chief merit consists in the scenery, dresses, and decorations. THE TEMPEST. "When learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes Tem any ven ii in Shakespeare has made the plɔt ‹pest instrumental to the productio characters, diversified with buna tion, and preserved with profoun nature, extensive knowledge of options, and accurate observation of life. In a sin, le drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, and sailors, all speaking in their real characters. earthly goblin: The operations of magie, There is the agency of airy spirits, and of an the tumults of a storm, the adventures of a desert island, the native effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of guilt, and the final happiness of the pair for whom our passions and reason are equally interested." So the celebrated Dr.Sam. Johnson described Shakespeare, and such were his allusions to that delightful drama The Tempest; what then, gentle readers, will you say, when informed, that on Monday December 8, was "revived, with ADDITIONS," as the bills of the day announced, “ Shakespear's play of the Tempest?" This novelty augmented by the attractions of new dresses, decorations, scenery, and machinery, with the perform ance of Ariel by a young lady who had never appeared on any stage, could not fail of insuring a full house. Of the additions, some were the flimsy alterations of Dryden; and some by an invisible hand-for who will be modest enough to come forward, and openly assert his ability of making ADDITIONS to Shakespeare, particularly, as Warburton remarks, to the noblest efforts of that sublime and amazing imagination, peculiar to himself, which soars above the bounds of nature without forsaking sense; or, more properly, carries nature along with him, beyond her established limits? 66 Our readers will anticipate us in acknowledging, that, on the present occasion," Tis not well mended so: it is but hotch'd." And indeed the botcher has contrived to descend as many degrees below Dryden, as Dryden was below Shakespeare-indelicacy and a trifling tediousness were the characteristics of what was vainly supposed to make up the deficiencies of our immortal bard. This attempt has afforded us one more proof to what degree his beautiful works may be disfigured, mangled, and degraded. Several have laboured to improve the Tempest; but all have failed. Fletcher, Sir John Suckling, † and Dryden; to whom we must now add the present improvementmonger. Dryden introduced two new characters (Hyppolito and Dorinda) and greatly curtailed the old ones. Our comic friend Trinculo (now called the King's jester, and dressed à la Touchstone) omitted the pleasant remarks on English curiosity, when he first discovers Caliban. We suppose it was left out, like many other passages, to make room for the ADDITIONS. And indeed, we despaired of hearing those lines which have never been equalled by "Frenchman, Grecian, or Roman "-we mean "the cloud capt towers, &c." which were not given till near the close of the fifth act, although Shakespeare placed them in the beginning of the fourth-when Mr. Kemble had finished delivering them-the auditors gave three distinct plaudits; at once evincing their attachment to their national poet, with their contempt for the alterations. Great dissatisfaction was shewn by the audience at the silly and indecent scenes introduced, to the exclusion of so many passages of Shakespeare's writing; in the fifth act their disapprobation was expressed in the most decided manner. We hope therefore the managers will listen to reason—and banish this strange jumble, with all its family, from the stage, and give us Shakespeare hinself, in his original beauty and magnificence, assisted solely by Purcell, Arne, and Linley, not that we have any objection to Mr. Davy's overture, in which he has shewn h's taste and respect for the trid, by introducing their music into it. The scenes and decorations are splendid, and deserve applause particularly the last yet we could have wished to have beheld some of them more appropriate to the Summer Islands §-not chilling us with the bleakness of a desert. The young lady, who performed the part of Ariel, is, we understand, a Miss Meadows. She possseses a pretty little figure, and a good voice; she gave her songs with much science, particularly, "Where the bee sucks," in which she was encored; and repeated it with thrice the effect she did the first time. She appeared perfectly at ease, and her action had more the manner of the Italian stage than the English. She is a pupil of Mr. Davy. * The Sea Voyage. + The Goblins. "Were I in England now, as once I "was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece "of silver: there would this monster make " a man: any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to "relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out "ten to see a dead Indian!" § The perpetual mildness of the climate (the Bermudas) caused them to be called by an apt allusion Summer, as well as Somers, Islands-Brookes's Gazetteer. Emery acted Caliban better than we ever saw it; but the songs were far more ably given by the late Bannister. Prospero, we do not think altogether suited to Mr. Kemble, yet he gave it as much effect as the character would allow, ably preserving the dignity of Milan's Duke. We pitied Miss Logan and Mrs. C. Kemble, as it was impossible not to disapprove the ribaldries they were obliged to to utter. Our pity extended likewise to Miss Brunton, who was forced to personate a Miranda as dissimilar to Shakespear's as "a Satyr to Hyperion;" for who, after hearing the trash she delivered, could fancy her to be the Admir'd Miranda ! Indeed the top of admiration; worth What's dearest to the world! So perfect and so peerless, Of created every creature's best...? Ferdinand was personated by C. Kemble but as it is painful for us to proceed in further remarks, we shall barely add that it was not Shakespeare's Ferdinand, but Dryden's assassin, murdering his own Hyppolito! Thursday, Dec. 11, a new farce, called Arbitration; or, Free and Easy, was produced at this Theatre; the author of which, we understand, is Mr. Reynolds.-The following is the story.-Sir Toby Tritely and Lady Litigious having a law-suit about a corn-mill and other matters, their case is referred to Jack Familiar, a young barrister, for arbitration, whom Sir Toby invites to his house, in hopes of influencing his opinion.. Familiar begins with setting Harriet free, whom Sir Toby (her guardian) had confined with the view of forcing her to marry Thoro. She escapes in male attire to an inn kept by Chequer, who, paying no attention to his jealous wife takes her to Lady Litigious. Her ladyship receives the unfortunate girl, with the idea of giving her to Thoro by way of liquidating a debt. Familiar, invited to Lady Litigious, meets and marries Harriet; and declares, after well examining the papers relative to the litigation, that the property does not belong to either of them, but to the humble publican Chequer. Such is the substance of this farce, which contains some lively dialogue, and a few ludicrous and improbable incidents. It is interspersed with songs; one by Liston, about driving two trades at a time, had a very good effect;-another by Miss Tyrer, concerning her figure, was much applauded, The piece, although preceded by a prologue, the epitome of dulness, was received with great satisfaction, and passed the ordeal without opposition; for the audience, though pretty well convinced of its absurdities, rewarded the author with their applause, in return for his having made them laugh heartily, 12 180°6 1817 OPERA. THE KING'S THEATRE Opened for the season on Saturday the 13th of December, with the tragic opera of Semiteride and the ballet of La Dansomanie. Madame Catalani made her debut in the Opera, the music of which was expressly composed for her by Portogallo. This celebrated singer was preceded in England by the great reputation she had acquired in Italy, Portugal, and France. Since we have heard her, we are fully convinced that her merits are not inferior to it. No praise is above the perfections which she derives from art; no comparison can give an adequate idea of the organ with which nature has wonderfully endowed her. Besides a prodigious extent, her voice has a very peculiar character; in the three octaves which she runs over, it is always equally just, full and brilliant; it is a silvery tone that seizes the ear and vibrates long after the sound has ceased. Madame Catalani passes, without labour, over the most distant intervals, and in her boldest attempts she pleases no less than she astonishes. In Semiramide she does not appear till the third scene; some parts of the recitative and airs of the nine first scenes of the first act were rapturously applauded; but it was especially in the tenth scene that she united the suffrages of all, and struck every one with amazement and admiration. The air begining with In consigliata che fo! in which are these words Son regina e son guerriera, where the composer has happily expressed the pride and courage of Semiramide, is one of the best calculated for the display of a fine voice. Madame Catalani sung it with such an imperious accent, with so much emotion, fire and impetuosity, that the effect upon the audience was electric. By her manner of execution, those great traits, those exertions of voice which the composer meant only as ornament, gave additional force and expression to the music. In the air L'Ira Terribile, in the second act, we were struck with the effect of the opposite expressions of terror and love, where she softly complains to the daughters of Babylon, expresses the torture of an unfortunate passion, and calls on death to end her miseries. Her countenance is very expressive and her person is finely formed; but what we value in her above every thing, is, her simplicity, candour and modesty, with which we understand her manners and conduct correspond. After having thus given our opinion of this eminent singer we may be allowed some remarks on the music of Portogallo, and then on the management of the King's Theatre. The music of Semiramide is quite novel, and well adapted to the present taste of Italian and French spectators, who are now more apt to be pleased with the wonders of elaborate execution, or the exertions of supernatural powers, than with the natural, soft and ex presive melody of a cantabile. The composers of the modern Italian School disdain the style of their predecessors: they would now make an instrument of a voice, and seem to wish rather to surprise than to please. They might be excused if their music was always sung by such voices as Catalani's; but, as prodigies like this are very rare, they would do well to return to a character of music more congenial to nature; and to a composition, more conformable to the chaste, inventive, and diversified style, that will, for many centuries to come, be admired in the works of Handel, Gluck, Sacchini, and Haydn. Respecting the management of the King's Theatre, we are still of opinion, that it wants great reform and improvement. There has been this year an advance in the price of the boxes; therefore the public, we mean that part of the public which resorts to this theatre, has a right to expect additional exertions from the managers. The higher orders of society who pay such large sums of money, especially, have a right to expect not to be confounded in the pit of that house with noisy prostitutes, whose indecency and effrontery put the wives and daughters of the most respectable part of the kingdom to the blush. For several years past, there has been at this theatre in almost every branch, two or three of the best performers, for the principal parts; but the inferior parts have been very much neglected. We now see Catalani almost alone; she is very feebly supported by the other actors. Although Righi is improving fast, and will most undoubtedly be very useful, and deserve applause in secondary cha racters, yet we are confident that we shall not be thought too severe in saying that he is inadequate to the part he performs in Semiramide. The other performers are scarce ly worthy any remark, except it be that every year increases their defects. The same observations apply to the Ballet. While we are enchanted with the display of the graces and powers of the Deshayes', Parisot, and we are glad to add the Depresle, we cannot help being shocked at the awkward figures among which they are obliged to appear; and sometimes with the shabbiness of their dresses. As to the machinery,-to the disgrace of the first stage of this great capital, there is not one of the most insignificant summer theatres, where it is not better managed-and when we compare the tout ensemble with the Opera of Paris, we must acknowledge, our Italian theatre is far, very far behind it. Previous to the opening, the manager pro posed to receive the subscribers' tickets on ad mission; and to return them to the proprie tors the next morning. We consider this as a laudable attempt to ascertain the company. This, however, has failed: but-something must be done. EULOGIUM OF FRANÇOIS DE SALIGNAC DE LA MOTHE FENELON, ARCHBISHOP OF CAMBRAY, &c. BY M. DE LA HARPE. Among the celebrated persons who have a claim to public eulogium and the homage of the people, there are some whom general admiration has consecrated, whom it is impossible not to honour without being unjust, and who present themselves to posterity surrounded with all the imposing attributes of greatness. There are others who are still more fortunate, who awaken in the heart the more flattering and dearer sentiments of love, whose name cannot be pronounced without a tender sensibility, whom to forget is to be guilty of ingratitude; to exalt whose character is an object of emulation, not so inuch from the impulse of justice, as to receive the pleasure of being grateful; and who, so far from losing any thing in passing over the track of ages, collect new honours in their passage, and will present themselves to the latest posterity preceded by the acclamations of every people, and laden with the tribute of every age. ་ Such are the characters of that glory which surrounds with its lustre the amiable and benevolent virtues, and the talents which inspire them; such were those of Fenelon, whose praise will be welcome to every class of men, and whose panegyrist will be anticipated in all he can say by the sensibility of those who hear him. I shall say to men of letters, he possessed the ardent eloquence of the soul, blended with the simplicity of the ancients; to the ministers of the church, he was the father and the model of those committed to his charge; to controversialists, he submits his opinions to authority;-to courtiers, he never flattered to obtain favour, and was happy during his disgrace;-to the instructors of Kings, the nation expected to derive its happiness from the Prince whom he had educated;-to all mankind, he was virtuous, and he was beloved. His works consisted of Lessons given by a great genius, who was the friend of humanity, to the heir of a great empire. I shall connect the history of his writings with the August Educationwhich was the object of them; I shall follow him from glory to disgrace, from the court to Cambray; I shall attend In on the theatre of his pastoral and his domestic virtues; and I shall begin with remarking, as a most uncommon circumstance, that the honour of being numbered among the first writers of France, which has satisfied the ambition of so many great men, was the least of those which dignified and adorned the character of Fenelon. Among the advantages which such a man might owe to nature or to fortune, it would be superfluous to reckon that of birth. It VOL. I. [Lit. Pan. Jan. 1807.] was for him to throw a brighter lustre round his ancestors than he could receive from them. The most fortunate chance that could happen for him was, to be born in an age when he could take his proper place in the world. That tender and amiable mind, which was entirely filled with an idea of the happiness which might be procured to civilized nations, by the cultivation of social virtue, the sacrifice of interest, and the management of the passions, would have been but ill-suited to the times of ignorance and barbarism, when pre-eminence originated solely in the strength which oppresses, and the policy which deceives. His voice would have been lost among the clamours of a rude multitude, and in the tumult of a boisterous court. His talents would then have been buried or despised; but nature produced him at a period of light and splendor. After he had completed his studies, which had already announced what he would one day be, and had been admitted to the priesthood, he appeared at the court of Louis XIV. It was then the most brilliant epocha of France: the monarch, surrounded by all the arts, was worthy of their homage, and presented his reign to them as a subject for their labours. Fenelon, who displayed to the most polished court of Europe, superior talents, gentle manners, and the indulgent virtues, was most favourably received by all those who themselves possessed a sufficient degree of merit to be sensible of that which he possessed, and attracted the notice of a master, whose observation no merit ever escaped. At the age of nineteen years, he made his first essay in the eloquence of the pulpit, and succeeded even after Bourdaloue and Bossuet. So great was his success, that his uncle, the Marquis de Fenelon, a man of rigid manners, but universally respected for a characteristic probity, entertained an apprehension that the young apostle might be seduced by popular applause; and therefore obliged him to confine himself to the more obscure functions of a profession, whose duties, however they may vary, are equally sacred. This first trial of obedience might be painful to a young man at the opening of such a career, but it soon yielded to the natural docility of his temper. He passed through all his religious exercises, under the direction of the Superior of St. Sulpice; but all those who saw him obey, were convinced that he would soon be qualified to command, and an office was confided to his youth, which appeared to demand the maturity of age to fulfil-it was that of Superior of the new catholics. They were, for the most part, young female converts, who were to be confirmed in a faith which was not that of their parents. It was impossible to have chosen a person more admirably suited than himself to such an em2 Ć Ployment. No one was more qualified than he was to temper the austerity of his mission, and to adapt it to the delicate feelings of women, with whom the gift of persuasion cannot be well separated from that of pleasing, and to whom the divine legislator of the gospel always addressed the words of grace, of mercy, and of peace. Then it was that he composed, te Traité de l'Education des Filles, and le Ministère des Pasteurs, which were the first productions of his pen. The fame of his labours reached Louis XIV., who was greatly delighted with his success, as he thought his glory was interested in effacing every vestige of the Calvinistie religion.-It is, indeed, with regret, we mention the odious violence exercised against peaceable subjects, and whom a vigilant authority might have preserved in a due state of restraint, without employing the spirit of perseeution. In deploring these abuses, I do not impute them to the prince from whom they were concealed, nor to religion which disavows them, nor to the nation which condemns them. It is my wish to pass on to another subject, but I must not omit to mention one of the finest circumstances of the life of Fenelon; that which first unfolded the goodness of his character, and the superiority of his anderstanding.. The king sent him on a mission into Saintonge and Aunis; anission which was to be supported by force of arms and escorted by soldiers so common is it to be humane from character, and cruel from policy. Others knew as well as Fenelon the rights of humanity; but he alone appears to have defended it. That barren pity which laments the unfortunate whom it abandons, was not his; a profound and enlightened sensibility which When it operates on moral conduct, becomes a sublime Reason, elevated him above the policy of the moment, and unfolded to him the miserable consequences of this system of oppression. He declared that, he would not charge himself with the duty of promulgating the divine word, with any other supports than those of charity, which is the principle of it, and that he would not speak in the name of his God and his King, but to inspire the love of both of them. This truly christian courage rendered him superior both to power and to prejudice; and thus two provinces were preserved from that scourge of persecution which overwhelmed so many others. He alone offered to religion such conquests as were worthy of her and of himself. To a virtuous man, the greatest recompense which he can receive after the testimony of his own heart, is the friendship of those who resemble him: and it was the tribute which Fenelon received on his re-appearance at Versailles. The Beauvilliers, the Che vreuses, the Langerons, considered it as an honour to be ranked among his friends. Superior minds Judge cach other, understandeach other, and seek each other. Content with their regard, and happy in their society, Fenelon paid no attention whatever, to the means of advancing himself in the career of ecclesiastical dignity.-He was too deserving of such advancement to intrigue for it. It is very rare that those who have favours to bestow, though they are ready to acknowledge merit, forestall its solicitation. Vanity must have its followers, and interest its creatures. Fenelon, recommended by the public voice, was on the point of being named to the bishopric of Poitiers; but his competitors employed those arts to turn aside that appointinent, which he disclaimed, in order to support it. He was therefore passed by; but there was immediately opened for him another field of honourable and important labour. The education of the grandson of Louis XIV. became an object of rivalry among those of the most distinguished merit at the court of Versailles. Beauvilliers who was the governor of the young prince, naturally desired such an associate as Fenelon. Louis XIV. listened to Beauvilliers, and Fenelon was called to the duty of forming a king. Pride might have been flattered by such a choice, and ambition might have swelled as the attainment of it. Far more pure and noble are the sentiments that Fenelon experienced. That refined spirit ever glowing with the desire to do good, was now engaged to labour for the happiness of a great people. Elevated by the hope of succeeding in this great work, he entered, with the highest satisfaction, on the laborious functions which were to occupy his life. To be annihilated as to himself, and to be solely devoted to his pupil, never to utter a word which might not prove a lesson, never to take a step which might not be an example to conciliate the respect due to a child which would one day be a king; with the yoke he must impose to teach him to be so; to inform him of his greatness, but, at the same time, to trace out its duties and to destroy its pride; to combat the propensities which flattery engenders, and the vices which seduction fortifies;-to overawe by firmness and conciliatinginanners the sentiment of independence so natural in a prince, to guide his sensibility and to prevent it frour becoming a weakness; to blame him without losing his confidence, to punish him sometimes without losing his friendship; to im press continually on his mind the essential difference between what he can do, and what he ought to do between his power and his duty, and never to deceive his scholar, the state, nor his own conscience. Such are the duties which that man imposed on himself; to whom the monarch said, "I gives you. |