A NEW AND FASHIONABLE WEEKLY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, MUSIC, AMUSEMENT, EXHIBITIONS, VARIETIES, SATIRE, AND THE STAGE. VOL. I.-No. 31.] "QUALITY, NOT QUANTITY."-Common Sense. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1837. WHO WOULD BE POPULAR? A popular man is a butt for all the world to shoot at. He is universally applied to in all manner of distresses, by those who do know him, and by those who do not. There is not a "widow with seven small children," a respectable tradesman "overwhelmed by a concatenation of untoward events," a clergyman whose " expenses have exceeded his income," or an elderly maiden escaped, in her chemise, from "the late calamitous fire," who does not make him acquainted with their respective misfortunes, and look to him for relief. The Duke of Wellington, we dare be sworn, has received more letters from the widows of officers slain at Waterloo, than ever fell in all his campaigns; and there is not a successful actor on the stage who could not furnish his quota of a correspondence with self-dubbed Thespians, dated from half the gaols in England. But if your popularity be literary, there is positively no end of this persecution. Every day brings its epic, or its drama, its novel in three volumes, or its voyages in two, with a modest request to wade through the ill-written MS.-criticise, amend, write a preface, and recommend to a publisher, or to friends for subscription. To say nothing of incessant "double letters from Northamptonshire," or, worse still, large packets from America, like those quoted by Mr. Lockhart, in his life of Sir Walter-all for the further promotion of such tyrannical designs against your purse and person. To comply with such requests, would be a total surrender of personal freedom; to refuse is to make an enemy who will slander you anonymously in the newspapers and journals for the rest of your life. Nay, even if you comply, and -drop into unwilling ears The saving council, 'keep your piece nine years,'' your case is not amended; it is all set down as envy, hatred, and malice, and jealousy of a new rival venturing into the market. But even to criticise is safer than to praise; no mortal ever yet peppered sufficiently [No. 16, NEW SERIES.] [PRICE ONE PENNY. high to content the vanity of an author of this intrusive disposition. Upon the subject of postage, also, there is another plague of popularity to mention the persecutions of the twopenny-post. There is a floating capital of envy, and of paltry malignity in the world, of which the littleness is only equalled by the intensity. For this feeling, anonymous letter-writing is the accustomed vent; so that there are few popular persons-no matter the cause of their popularity-who do not, about once a week or so, get their twopenny-worth, beginning with "You infernal scoundrel," or, "You conceited ass," and accusing them of more vices than can be found in the catalogue of a Catholic confessor. If a woman be the object, you may be certain, too, of indecencies unheard of in Broad St. Giles's. Now, though this is despicable enough, it is also painfully disgusting. It gives too close an insight into the meanness, vulgarity of mind, and total unworthiness, abounding in society, makes one sick of one's fellow-creatures, and moreover it is in the long run rather expensive. Another pleasant appendage to popularity, is its attracting the especial attention of madmen. The papers perpetually announce the visits these persons pay to kings and ministers, and the hairbreadth escapes of such exalted personages; but the evil extends to all classes whose names are before the public. Actresses (more especially if they be young and handsome) have their lives embittered by lunatic lovers, who keep them in constant apprehension and alarm, and sometimes fire at them from the pit, or Hackman-ize them in their passage to their hackney-coach. Next to these, scarcely less annoying and almost as lunatic, are the hosts of curious impertinents who force themselves into the presence of eminent men, for the pleasure of staring at live lions, or haply for the profit of "putting them into their book." A fellow of this description will call on a popular author, pretending to mistake him for another person of the same name; or he will trump up an ima ginary business, and, after having detained him half an hour with its details, will fairly own the trick, and acknowledge that it was a stratagem to arrive into his presence. Then, in six months, out comes a printed catalogue of the visitee's furniture, the decorations of his chamber, his personal peculiarities and infirmities, with a full and particular account of all his opinions of men and things, which, in the presumed sanctity of familiar chat, he has been trapped into uttering; and right lucky will he be, if nothing be added or distorted in the ingenious narrative. We say nothing of the many visits thus paid upon bona fide letters of recommendation-for the bore is the same-only this, that it is a case meriting legislative interference, to determine who shall, and who shall not, have a right to draw such onerous drafts upon their eminent acquaint ance. Last, though not least, in this long list of grievances, must be set down the morbid state of feeling which popularity engenders in its victims! Odious and detestable as their public life must, on bitter experience, become, it, at the same time, grows to be habitual; and, however much the victim may pant for a return to the domesticity of an obscure lot, he will, on making the experiment, find himself perfectly unfitted for enduring it. Publicity has become his torment; but it is a torment with which he cannot afford to part. It has stolen upon him, like brandy on a drunkard, and grown into a necessary stimulus. It is "like the breath of heaven; without it dies." Incessant, therefore, are the efforts which the popular man makes, and must make, to keep himself before the world; and the very greatest and best are not exempted from this necessity. A large part even of the extravagancies with which Byron's glorious memory is reproached, may be fairly attributed to a thirsting after that species of immortality, which was the more urgent, the more its object seemed to be retiring from his grasp. The desire for notoriety grows with what it feeds on; and so ravenous does the appetite become, that the Popes and the Drydens, as well as the Dennises and the Cibbers, are brought to an harrassing conviction that it is "better be d-d than not be named at all." Hence, a nervous solicitude to be seen everywhere, and mentioned on every occasion; a restless impatience at the oversights of newspaper reporters, or at the sneers of petty critics, or, worse still, at the successes of contemporaries. Hence intrigues to get up public dinners, or to obtain addresses, no matter from whom, though it be but from a freemason's lodge, or a country club of odd fellows. Has it not been known that, under this morbid fear of oblivion, men have had their legs broken, caused themselves to be shipwrecked, nay, even to be laid out for dead-in the newspapers-and all merely to get an opportunity of coming once more before the public, in a subsequent contradiction? To this cause, also, we should attribute a part of that egregious coxcombry of more than one of our well-known candidates for popularity; who, not content with the social passe par tout which successful authorship affords, seek by a thousand personal affectations and sillinesses to attract all eyes to themselves, and hate even the pretty women who divide attention with them in a fashionable assembly!— New Monthly Magazine. THE FAMILY PHYSICIAN. TOOTHACHE. One of the best preventives of, and cures for, this most acute and melancholy malady, is to wash the ears well in cold water, as soon as you arise; and rub them well until dry, with a coarse towel. TO CURE CHILBLAINS.-(By Sir Astley Cooper,)Take one ounce of camphorated spirit of wine, half an ounce of the liquor of subacetate of lead. Mix and apply, in the usual way, three or four times a day. POISONING BY ARSENIC.-The fatal effects of arsenic have been found to be averted by large and frequent doses of Magnesia. TO CURE CORNS.-Macerate the feet for half an hour, two or three nights successively, in a pretty strong solution of soda, or lees of potash. The alkali dissolves the indurated article, and the corn falls out spontaneously, leaving a smal} excavation which soon fills up. LOVE AND SORROW. Whenever under bowers of myrtle No eye beholds the virgin gliding A golden bow the Brother carries, A silver flute the Sister bears: And ever at the fatal moment The notes and arrows fly in pairs. She rests her flute upon her bosom, (While up to heaven his bow he rears,) The lovely twain were born together, And whispering lips that seemed to teach Each other, in their rosy motion, What still their favorites learn from each. Proud of her boy, the Mother showed him Accept them both, or hope for neither, Oh loveliest Youth, or Maid lovelorn; For Grief has come, when Love is welcome, And Love will comfort those who mourn. A NOVEMBER FOG. The atmosphere of London usually thickens overhead, and assumes its natural appearance, preparatory to its becoming, about Christmas time, that "palpable obscure" which is one of its proudest boasts; and which, among its other merits, may reckon that of engendering those far-famed fogs of which every body has heard, but to which no one has ever done justice. A London fog in November is a thing for which I have a sort of natural affection; to say nothing of an acquired one-the result of a hackney. coach adventure, in which the fair part of the fare threw herself into my arms for protection amidst the pleasing horrors of an overthrow. As tangible in a London fog. In the evanescent air an affair of mere breath, there is something of Italy, a man might as well not breathe at all, for any thing he knows of the matter. But in a well-mixed metropolitan fog there is something substantial and satisfying. You can feel what you breathe, and see it too; it is like breathing water, as we may fancy the fishes to do. And then the taste of it, when dashed with a due taste of sea-coal smoke, is far from insipid. It is, also, meat and drink at the same time, something between egg-flip and omelette soufflée, but much more digestible than either. Not that I would recommend it medicinally, especially to persons of greasy stomachs, delicate nerves, and afflicted with bile. But, for persons of a good robust habit of body, and not dainty withalwhich such, by the by, never are there is nothing better in its way; and it wraps you all round like a cloak, too-a patent water-proof one, which no rain ever penetrated. No, I maintain that a real London fog is a thing not be sneezed at-if you can help it.-Mem. As many spurious imitations of the above are abroad, such as Scotch mists and the like, which are no less deleterious than disagreeable, please to ask for the "True London Particular," as manufactured by Thames, Coal-gas, Smoke, Steam, and Co. No others are genuine. FOG-O. OUR NOTE-BOOK; ORIGINAL AND SELECTED. MULTIPLICATION OF ANIMALS.-Animals would multiply so rapidly, as to leave the human race no ground to stand upon, if the difficulty of finding food, the continual war which they carry on against each other, and the numbers consumed by man, did not set bounds to their propagation. It may easily be proved by arithmetical calculation, that if a sow was to bring forth six pigs-two males and four femalesand each of these was, in like manner, to produce each year six young ones, the breed, if living, would, at the end of twelve years, amount to 33,554,230! Several other animals, such as rabbits and cats, which go with young only a few weeks, would multiply with still greater rapidity; so great indeed, that, at the end of fifty years, the whole earth would not be sufficient to supply them with food, nor even to contain them. THE SEA! THE SEA!-I remember once travelling with a young gentleman from Paris to Boulogne, who had no motive for his journey except a desire to see the ocean. His curiosity on the subject was quite insatiable; all his questions were in some way or other connected with the sea; he was evidently a gentleman, and one of good education, and yet his mania was irresistible. One would have imagined him bewitched at his birth by a sea nymph, if a sea nymph could have had access to his cradle in la belle ville de Paris. How eager were his questions about sea fish and sea birds, and sea weeds and corals, and reefs, and rocks, and rigging, and anchors! He had evidently not associated much with the English, for he expected that even English ladies were well informed upon nautical matters. He had read, I believe, every book that had ever been written upon sea subjects. His eyes kindled, and his cheek flushed, when we talked ofbuccaniers; and more than once I asked him why he had not been a sailor. As we drew near the end of our wearisome journey, I certainly never saw any man so excited. He was constantly pointing to each blue streak that appeared on the horizon, and inquiring if that was the sea? Night closed in, and his disappointment was absolutely painful; the moon rose, and his spirits revived. He should see the sea by moonlight; he had treasured up his money that he might visit the sea; and the sea at Boulogne he had heard was more picturesque than any where else. He hoped the next morning would be fine, that he might behold the sun-beams dancing on the waters ; and he hoped there might be a storm at noon, for then he should see the waves. Álas! he was compelled to leave Boulogne next evening on his return to Paris; he had with difficulty obtained leave of absence from his office even for that time! The next morning, as we were stepping on board the steamer, there was our traveller on the pier, with folded arms, contemplating the mighty object of his curiosity! Our bows, and smiles, and adieux, remained unanswered; he had eyes and ears only for the sea! -Uncle Horace. NOTICES. PART 7 of THE IDLER, containing the numbers for the Month of November, is now ready. Also New Editions of all the early numbers. All Books, &c. intended for EARLY Review, should be sent in, not later than WEDNESDAY. ADVERTISEMENTS will be received till TWELVE O'Clock on Thursday, and only a LIMITED number taken. ALL COMMUNICATIONS must be PoST PAID; or they will not be received. THE THEATRÈS. "See that the Players be well used."-Hamlet. "Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice." Othello. The Covent Garden.-Mr. MACREADY seems to care little about novelty; he depends mainly on the revival of good pieces, effectively cast; and the result proves that his judgment in this matter is correct. Of these we would mention, more particularly, Werner and Macbeth. former was produced on Friday week, no doubt to gratify the vanity of the lessee in playing before Royalty, but it was so admirably acted throughout, as to command the undivided attention of a house filled to the ceiling. This, on such an occasion, is no mean praise. We never saw MACREADY play with more energy and real feeling. Macbeth was again performed on Monday, and proved as attractive as ever. The choruses are finely cast and particularly effective. The stage-effect, too, is so carefully studied, that there is not a fault visible for a critic to carp at. The last new opera of the Barbers of Bassora still lingers in the bills; but will be very shortly withdrawn. It is a narcotic drug. The Original improves greatly in public favor. The Parole of Honor, too, works more smoothly than it did, owing to its having been judiciously curtailed. The principal pieces since our last, in addition to those already enumerated, have been the Marriage of Figaro (with HAMMOND as Figaro), Rob Roy, Henry V., and Werner. Joan of Arc, so long announced, and on which so much attention has been lavished, will shortly be produced. Drury Lane.-Mr. BUNN, finding that his enormous placards of "Caractacus EVERY EVENING!" were filling the house of his rival instead of his own, has wisely withdrawn them. He has, also, in kindness(?) to the half-price visitors, played the "GRAND historical play" as a last piece. After it has been damned for the twentieth time, we learn, in confidence, that it will be altogether withdrawn to "make room for other novelties!" On Monday, Mr. OTWAY, who formerly failed signally in London, again essayed the part of Hamlet, and the consequence was, as must have been anticipated, a most lamentable failure. To say he was not applauded, would be untrue; but it was only by the claqueurs who were sent in "to do their duty." The sneers, jeers, and derisions of those who had paid for admission, and who therefore meant to judge for themselves, were too earnestly expressed to be readily mistaken. During the week, we have had a repetition of the Siege of Rochelle, one act of the Indian Girl, a new ballet called the Daughter of the Danube, and Shakspeare's play of Coriolanus, in which have been introduced "all the splendid paraphernalia belonging to Caractacus!" What a recommendation! To vex the lessee of Covent Garden, Mr. BUNN has announced in his bills, a new version of Joan of Arc, and tried to persuade the public that, the other is an imitation ! The ruse, however, is not likely to answer. Haymarket.-Mr. WEBSTER has incurred, and we think justly, considerable obloquy, for producing such pieces on his stage as Wapping Old Stairs, &c. &c. The audiences at the Haymarket are not used to hear slang language; and we do not wonder at the sensible part of the visitors, on Saturday last, expressing themselves unequivocally on the subject. For our own part, we were excessively disgusted, not only with the absurdity of the piece, but with its vulgarity; and should have been glad to have heard that "in consequence of the marked signs of disapprobation bestowed upon it, this nautical drama will be withdrawn." But not so; it has been frequently repeated. Mr. T. P. COOKE is unrivalled as a sailor, in his own sphere, the Surrey, Sadler's Wells, &c. ; but here, he is a veritable nuisance. The Love Chace, The Romantic Widow, and other favorite pieces, are quite sufficient to satisfy the public; and Mr. WEBSTER has had a convincing proof, by the patronage he has received, that such productions are properly estimated. St. James's.-On Monday was revived, the operatic burletta of the Eagle's Haunt, which was received with marked applause. The part of Richard was filled, for the first time, by Mr. GIUBILEI; Cassain by Mr. BRAHAM, as before; Rosa by Miss RAINFORTH; and Maria by Miss J. SMITH. To this succeeded the popular burletta of Temptation; followed by the Waterman; in which BRAHAM, as Tom Tug, seemed resolved on "winning each heart, and delighting each eye." When does this gentleman mean to grow old? Never, we think. maining unchanged, we have only to advise such Olympic.-The very thought of a visit to the Olympic, does one's heart good. No matter whether you have seen the same pieces before, they have always something new to recommend them. The extreme nicety and care bestowed upon the stage arrangements, require repeated opportunities for properly estimating them; and the lavish expenditure of Madame on the scenery, dresses, decorations, &c., could hardly be credited unless they were seen. The pieces which are now being played, are peculiarly attractive; A Dream of the Future, more particularly. Two such lovers as Madame VESTRIS, and Miss LEE, might well attract the attention, if not the affection, of two young fellows that had any sentiment. The scene in the bed-room, after the evening party, is, of its kind, the most effective of any thing we ever saw; and, from being so admirably acted, it has an additional charm. Advice Gratis, A Quiet Day, and a new piece, produced on Monday, called Why did you die? form, with the above, a delightful bill of fare. The last, though of slenFARREN, Charles MATHEWS, BROUGHAM, Miss der materials, is, by the admirable acting of LEE and Miss MURRAY, rendered a particularly amusing affair. New City of London.-Don Juan, with Mrs. HONEY as the amorous Don, continues powerfully attractive here; and, with the addition of Life and Fashion, A Match in the Dark, The Net Maker of Bagdad, and other amusing pieces, fills the house nightly to an overflow. Mr. STIRLING, the stage manager, is entitled to honorable mention. The pieces produced under his superintendence, exhibit much tact; and prove that he is fully competent to fulfil the duties he has undertaken. Printed by J. Eames, 7, Tavistock St., Covent Garden. the Office, 7, Tavistock St. Covent Garden: sold also by A NEW AND FASHIONABLE WEERLY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, MUSIC, AMUSEMENT, EXHIBITIONS, VARIETIES, SATIRE, AND THE STAGE. VOL. I.-No. 32.] "QUALITY,-NOT QUANTITY."-Common Sense. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1837. THE FLIRT'S FIRST SEASON. Lady Germaine had resolved that her daughter should remain a child till she was almost a woman; and, now, by a transforming touch of the wand of Fashion, chose that she should become a woman, though almost a child. From the hour she was presented at court, Adela found it decreed that her laugh should subside into a smile,-her natural demeanor into a graceful glide,-her playful frankness into a courteous discretion. It took her full a week to make her own acquaintance after the singular metamorphoses effected by Lady Germaine's interposition. Adela was every way qualified for carrying on a successful campaign against man and the monied interest,she was young, lovely, high-born, and rich,-she had a passion for whatever was externally graceful and imposing; and, consequently, there was little fear that her heart would interpose between her and any splendid alliance she might contemplate; yet nothing could end more unfortunately than all her speculations. She set the shafts of her beauty and wealth against a Sir Burford Raymond,-a virtuoso, with fifteen thousand a year, and imagined that she had made a decided impression. It was really amusing,-at least it would have amused any one but Nicodemus Fagg, who was alone present on the occasion, and was too much of a manœuvrer on his own account, to see any matter for jest in the avidity of others,-to observe the inventorial eye with which Lady Germaine made the tour of Sir Burford's mansion. All that she saw or heard was with reference to Adela, to a liberal settlement, to a widow's thirds. What cared she for Pæstum or Pompeii,-or whether the Guido to which her observation was directed by Sir Burford, had originally graced the Houghton collection or the Lanfranchi Palace? While her host was talking to her of the incense-pots and pateræ in use among the Phoenicians, exhibiting an unimpugnable specimen of Corinthian metal, or rehearsing the beauties of the sardonyx of Polycrates, while he paraded a chalice [No. 17, NEW SERIES.] [PRICE ONE PENNY. adorned with studs of that precious gem,-Lady Germaine was secretly reverting to the possibility that all these treasures might be made heir-looms, and alienated from the personalty so precious to the cupidity of widowhood. The only interest vouchsafed by the dowager to the objects placed before her eyes, arose from a doubt concerning their reconvertibility into the currency from whence they sprang; the only care entertained by the daughter, in surveying the home she was already determined to render her own, arose from incertitude whether a suite so encumbered with objects of vertu, were favorable to fashionable hospitality? She almost doubted whether Sir Burford would not prove too blue to be a giver of balls. But this was a minor point to Lady Germaine. The Hon. Lady Raymond, of Langdale House and Seamore Place, would be quite enough of a personage to satisfy her ambition for her daughter. Sir Burford, it is true, was a twaddler,-a man of a circle;-but he would the less interfere with the amusements and vanities of his young wife. She made it appear pretty plainly (so plainly that even Nicodemus could decipher the text without spectacles) that the cognoscente had only to propose, to be enabled to add the prettiest woman in London to his collection of rarities. Why did he hesitate? Was he aware that the existence of his handsome cousin of the Guards might interpose a dangerous obstacle to his conjugal happiness? Did it occur to him that twenty and four-and-forty are epochs divided by twenty-four fatal anniversaries of mortal nature? that the sharp ringlets of the fashionable belle were less accordant with the outline of his own bald pate, than the heads of Paris and Helen in his favorite intaglio? that Middle age and youth Cannot live together? that the Almack's goddess, the nymph of the park, would certainly have experienced little inclination for a niche in his gallery, had it not been for the splendor of the car on which her journey thither was to be executed? No! he thought of none of these things! Regarding himself as the most attractive of mankind, as a partie |