them with much delight, eat, drank, and slept in them, and even, I believe, made them their companions of the bath. The press of the public induced me not to relax in favour of the public press, but this was a blunder, as you will hear. The boxes looked extremely well, but from the attitude in which their tenants leant forward, in their intense curiosity, they seemed resolved-as we used to say at schoolnot only to see with their eyes, but also to understand with their elbows.

A medley overture, consisting of repeated alternations of "God Save the Queen," and "God Preserve the Emperor," pleased the house, but when the curtain rose for my occasional piece, the delight was excessive.

All the pigtails suddenly stood on end with astonishment, till everybody seemed to have an usher of the black rod behind his seat. The little drama was a mere sketch of the happy events which led to the union of England and China. I began with a naval engagement, for I thought it would be prudent to imitate the Chinese, and sink the opium. A junk and a frigate were seen in action; and by way of propitiating the house, I made the Celestial soldiers perform prodigies of valour such as were never witnessed on their side in the real affray, and the victory was doubtful, when suddenly the fire ceased, the side of each vessel gave way, and Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria, splendidly dressed, was disclosed, waving a palm branch from the English ship-the opening of the junk shewed the Celestial Emperor, who made signs of his royal willingness to accede to terms. Both sovereigns descended inclined planes, met in the centre of the stage, and joined hands, the crews of the vessels cheering tremendously, a brilliant rose-coloured light was kindled in the wings, the band played its loudest, and Peace and Glory, with enormous pig-tails, were seen waving the flags of both nations over the heads of their monarchs.

Nothing could be more triumphant-the house shrieked its approbation, and for myself, I could appreciate the feelings of Orpheus when the beasts encored his last set of Tiger quadrilles. But the "Macbeth," the real experiment, was to come.

I had ventured on considerable liberties with the "middle-aged Scotch gentleman in difficulties," for I felt that each act beyond three in his part would be an act of folly on mine. I like a manager who adheres to the text of Shakspeare, but I did not think that my audience had ears for his sermons; so I shortened my work by compressing his play, and though, when I came to the music, I was certainly at a lock, I comforted myself for turning out the usual mob of pretty sorceresses by the reflection that no Chinese need now ask the question, I have so often heard in your London theatres, "Which is witch ?"

"I played in Macbeth' last night," said some scrub of an actor to a friend of John Kemble. "You?-I was in the house, but I don't remember seeing you." "No?-well, I wonder at that, I played rather an important character." "Indeed! may I ask what it was, for I really" "Oh, yes; I played the English general-Kemble the Scotch one !"

I thought as manager that I had a right to the Scotch general's part, and I took it, but I had better have kept in retirement as the English supernumerary. The official persons with whom I previously had been in treaty, no sooner recognised me in the bonnet and

tartans of Macbeth, than they uttered screams of approbation, and insisted on shaking me by the hand. Resistance was useless, I was forced to comply, and presently the example became contagious, and every man in the house resolved to-by a similar salutation-shew his gratitude for the spectacle I had given them. In such Chinese as I could muster, I begged and besought them to be still: my Lady Macbeth came to my assistance, and uttered the words which she had been taught in the banquet scene, "Sit, gentlemen, I pray you sit," but in vain; those who could not reach me scrambled upon the stage to perform the salute, and in five minutes the whole theatre was a scene of confusion. The Chinese walked about the boards, peeped down my trap-doors, pulled about my actors and actresses, to see whether they were real, climbed into my slips, and worked the scenes with great energy, but not much understanding with each other, and, in short, I had once more to implore the aid of the police to extricate me from my dilemma. Again was this excellent force put into requisition, and by the aid of my friends of the T (and turn-out) division, an enthusiastic public was whipped out of the Imperial Theatre.

After this, licence was unnecessary, and night after night I had admirable houses. To avoid the scene of the opening evening, I caused a strong screen of wire-work to be drawn across the proscenium, and some of our most attractive stage effects were produced behind iron bars. But London has seen the same thing, and so has Amburgh.

I resolved on resigning Macbeth to another member of my company, and he appeared in it two or three times. But the play had little effect, except in the cauldron scene, in which the Chinese always supposed that the witches were making tea in a large copper, and wondered that they had not the civility to offer a cup to Macbeth. I fear when the child's head and shoulders popped up and down in the same vessel, it did not tend to explode the notion still entertained out here that the English are cannibals. The green branches which the army held before their faces, the Chinese took for fans, and were pleased with our affectionate care to "fan our soldiers cold." Why a branch about the size of one of their fans should conceal the person bearing it, these savages could not conceive, though our London managers could, until within the last three or four years. I believe it

was Mr. Macready who first discarded the ostrich's philosophical belief, that if he cannot see you, you cannot see him; but until other managers at home adopt his hint, it would look ostentatious to be reforming out here. Besides, the present effect (upon the Chinese) is, as I have said, good.

But my present season has been prematurely aided by a circumstance unprecedented in theatrical annals. As soon as my speculation was beginning to succeed, and my company thought I could not do without them, they began to mutiny, and threaten to throw up their engagements unless they were allowed to do just as they pleased. I do not mean that this is the novelty; I am coming to that. I bore this as long as I could, and put up with the refusal of a character by one actor because it was too long, and by another because it was too short, and by a third because he had not been consulted while I was writing it, and by a fourth because it would oblige him to sup later than he liked. From the ladies, I had the same trouble on other points-Miss Myrtle

would not play because Miss Harebell's part was too good, and Miss Harebell would not take Miss Myrtle's part at second hand. Mrs. Woodbine would take nothing which she could not play in ringlets and a pink bonnet; and Mrs. Spiderwort, who was very well made, would act nothing, not even Lady Macbeth, unless she might do it in a page's dress. I was on the verge of ruin, when a thought struck me, which I adopted. Every one of my mutinous ladies and gentlemen invariably threatened me with throwing up his or her engagement in case I did not yield the point in dispute. I took my measures for some days; and one morning I cast a new piece as I thought it ought to be cast. As I had foreseen, everybody was dissatisfied, all grumbled, and some refused their parts, point blank. On all sides I heard the threat to abandon me, and I laughed outright.

"Please yourselves, ladies and gentlemen," I said.

They were all astonished; but taking it for granted that I was at their mercy, and should be forced to engage them, every one of them formally resigned. No, one clever girl, who had always behaved extremely well-I may as well mention that I have married her for her good conduct (Mrs. Screw sends you her best compliments)-was the exception.

"Then, ladies and gentlemen," said I, "the sooner you leave my theatre the better. I supposed it would come to this, and I have provided against it. It seems to me that as we are to play Chinese plays, the natives can speak their language nearly as well as you can; and as for acting, I wont remind you of the barns I took you from-but there are barns in this country too-and from them I have done myself the honour of selecting a new company. I have had them in training for some time; and their enter will immediately follow your exeunt. Do we part friends?"

They were thunderstruck, except that the bolt followed. I was inexorable to remonstrance, and I introduced my Chinese actors. They were received with the utmost applause; but, mark the sequel. In three days, as if there were something in the smell of the foot-lights which makes people self-conceited and rebellious, one of my Chinese company began to mutiny. "Oh," thought I, "we'll soon see whether we can't manage you." So I mentioned the circumstance to a Mandarin, a particular patron of my mine, and he promised to interfere.

He kept his word. My rebellious Chinese was actually on the stage when the spirit of mutiny arose within him, and he refused to utter another word. I called to him to go on, and he made some reply in his own language which I could not understand. In another moment four strong officers rushed upon the boards, seized the refractory actor, and binding him between two wooden planks which they had brought, they laid him down, and with a huge saw very coolly sawed him in halves in the face of our generous benefactors.

My friend the Mandarin had procured an order from the Emperor for this operation, but with that carelessness in which one's best friends will indulge, he had never mentioned the circumstance to me; otherwise what a magnificent house I should have had, if I had underlined the saw.

It is, as you know, not unusual to "halve the house," at the benefits which usually announce the termination of the season; but when one

comes to halve the actors, that termination, which is a benefit to the audience only, must necessarily be hastened. My season has closed, and for the present I will only add, that

I remain, my dear Sir, yours very truly,

Feast of Lanterns, or Light Dinner Day.

MASSINGER SCREW.

P.S.-What do you think of my bringing a Chinese Opera Company to London? Though they could not look worse than the Germans, or behave worse than the Italians, they would have the advantage of a language which nobody would understand. I wish you would mention it to Mr. Bunn, or Mr. Lumley.

THE MONASTERY OF L'AVERNIA.

A TRUE STORY.

BY THE HONOURABLE CHARLES STUART SAVILE,

AUTHOR OF "KARAH KAPLAN."

THE sequel to the following story will fully and satisfactorily account for the manner in which the author became possessed of its appalling details.

The monastery of L'Avernia is situated at the extremity of the Maremma, in the state of Tuscany, on a precipitous height of unquarried rock. In its immediate vicinity may be observed the socalled "Massa della Verna," a mountainous mass, twice the size of a spacious mansion, and singular for the equilibrium with which it is supported at a single point of its immense diameter. The monastery is of ancient date, and remarkable as the prison-like receptacle of priests and monks of the several orders who have been convicted of serious crimes; it has a melancholy and dilapidated air, which corresponds well with the gloomy and criminal character of its inmates. A part of it is excavated from the solid rock, from which dark mosses and ivy hang over the darker building. The "Foresteria," or outer apartments, for the reception of strangers, are separated externally from the rest of the monastery, although each room is connected with it by a secret and subterranean passage. The prisons, of which there are several, all lie beneath in the bosom of the rock, through which they wind and penetrate deep and far.

It was towards evening, during the summer of 1836, that a foreign artist presented himself at the outer gate of the monastery of L'Avernia. He was, he said, desirous of seeing the building, but more particularly of speaking with the Padre Guardiano, or Superior. The porter, after rather a prolonged absence, returned, and bade the stranger follow him to the presence of the Padre Guardiano, who was ready to receive him. As the young foreigner passed through the long corridor which led to the more interior quarters of the monastery, he observed that the several monks who met his eye were buried in profound silence or meditation; and on inquiry he was informed that, as in the case of the Capuchins of Rome, they were never permitted to converse but in the presence and by the permission of the superior. On entering the presence of the Padre Guardiano, the stranger perceived in that monk

an appearance calculated in every degree to conciliate and win esteem. Politeness, affability, cheerfulness, and frankness of manner, combined with a fine and reverend exterior to remove all idea of any suspicion of his integrity. An Italian, indeed, or one long resident among that subtle people, might have detected a depth of insincerity under his bland smiles and profuse expressions of regard. He, perhaps, might have deemed the truth too cheap which was communicated so freely, but a more honest and unsuspecting inhabitant of a northern clime had neither the ability nor the wish to penetrate beneath the specious surface of his pleasing manners and obliging words. The Padre rose, together with a monk of the monastery who had been sitting at his side, and listened to the stranger most attentively, while he stated that, during his residence at Bologna, he had become acquainted with a young student, who had since, he understood, from melancholy or some other cause, become an inmate and monk of l'Avernia, under the name of Brother Anselmo, and with whom he particularly desired to renew his friendship. The Abbot replied, that such an individual had indeed formed one of their number, but that, unhappily, he had now been dead for some time.

While the Superior was uttering these words, the stranger's eye was caught by the monk who stood beside him, and who made, by a slight movement of the head, a short but significant sign of negation. It was, however, in vain that the visitor attempted to gain more satisfactory information concerning his friend, the brief explanations given by the Abbot all tended to the same conclusion, "that Brother Anselmo had been dead many months." Baffled in all his efforts, the stranger requested the hospitality of the monastery for the night, trusting that the monk's sign of denial, if it had been understood aright, might prove the prelude to some further disclosure. The request for hospitality was immediately and cordially granted, and the artist was conducted to a small apartment in the Foresteria, the door of which he left partially open, in hopes of some visit being paid him in the course of the night. It was long before the fatigue of his journey could overcome the stranger's recollection of the merry days he had passed with his friend at the university of Bologna, together with his long and everchanging surmises with regard to the motives which could have induced one of so buoyant and sanguine a disposition to enter a monastery; long, too, he pondered over the life or death, alike mysterious, which appeared to have awaited his former comrade within the gloomy walls of L'Avernia. At length, about two hours after midnight, he had just fallen into his first sleep, when he was suddenly aroused by a noise from beneath the pavement of his room; and on gazing with the intensest anxiety, he beheld a figure rise through a trap-door: the visitor proved to be the monk who had given the sign that evening. He had a cowl upon his head and a torch in his hand, the flame of which cast a livid glare over features naturally repulsive and ghastly. Beckoning in silence to the young artist to follow him, he disclosed, under the trap-door through which he had descended, a flight of stone steps, whose base was completely obscured in darkness. After descending flight after flight, they arrived at a level part of the subterraneau passage, where the sound of a stream of water was heard rushing over their heads. The monk here paused, and addressing the stranger, said, "Swear by all that is sacred that you will never reveal to mortal being that which you are now about to see and hear!"