as it is aimed at general folly and not at individual weakness. The wit is not condensed and sparkling as in the Dunciad; the writer's chief resource consisting in an adaptation of passages from writers, ancient and modern, to the purposes of a grave burlesque; and for the application of these, by a contrivance not very artificial, it is sometimes necessary to recur to the notes. The style, if it be not distinguished by any remarkable strength or elegance, is at least free and unaffected.

happy: that addressed to Lord Bathurst, particularly towards the latter part, is perhaps the best. Of the original jeux d'esprits, the verses occasioned by the Marriage and Game Acts, both passed the same session, have, I think, most merit. The Fable of Jotham, or the Borough Hunters, does not make up by ingenuity for what it wants in reverence. In the Fakeer, a tale professedly borrowed from Voltaire, the story

takes a less humorous turn than as it is told in the extracts from Pere

The imitatious of Horace are often Le Comte's memoirs in the preface.

DON GIOVANNI THE XVIII.

A MUSICO-BURLESQUE-COMICO-NONSENSICAL OPERA.

By Mr. M

FOR THIS MONTH ONLY.

In the temporary absence of the ingenious gentleman who presents the BEAUTIES of the LIVING DRAMATISTS, a theatrical friend has kindly offered his services to read the part: and he begs us to request for him that kind indulgence which is usually shown to those who appear on so short a notice.

Mr. M- -ff is decidedly one of the readiest and most industrious of the modern dramatists, for he is not only prime-parodist of Drury-Lane Theatre, which is no sinecure situation;-but he is melodrame-manufacturer for the Coburg Theatre, for the Olympic, and the Adelphi. His pen is, beyond dispute, the pen of a ready writer. The Opera from which the following scenes are taken, is one of those dashing, careless whimsicalities, for which the present age manifests so marked an attachment, and by which Thalia carries the town, treading on the toes of all favourite recollections. The secret of such success is this. Let a piece at the Italian Opera House become a favourite, or let any particular book of narrative create an interest, and Mr. Mff is set to work to traduce it into a mock opera or a merry afterpiece. He immediately vulgarizes the characters,-introduces

two or three hackney-coachmen, hal
a dozen constables of the night, and
a lawyer :-tears the language into
slang tatters-whips up a variety of
empty rhymes to good old tunes-
and commits it to the hands of the
great, or the lesser lessee. The pub-
lic instantly and eagerly squeezes it-
self as flat as a sixpence to see what
it declares to be vulgar and low,-
and enjoys the exaggerated discourse
of hackney coachmen, King's Bench
debtors, watchmen and thieves, until
the supper hour comes, when it forth-
with becomes serious and pretends to
be critical. It is impossible to say how
long the days of the Giovannis and
the Toms and Jerrys will last,—but,
certainly, our theatrical taste is be-
coming as depraved and disorderly
as our streets,-no drama at present
stands a chance of popularity, that
does not introduce the audience to a
prison or a pot-house,-to a gin-shop
of St. Catherine's, or the back slums

of St. Giles's. The present opera takes the audience a step lower, and is so far an advance towards a better style, if it be true that extremes meet. The intrigues of Pluto and his

court are mixed up with the old favourite propensities of Don Giovanni; and the songs are written in the very last fashion. "Heaven send it may be the last!"

DON GIOVANNI THE XVIII.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

DON GIOVANNI.

PLUTO, King, (Below-bridge.)
Two WATCHMEN.

PAT DALY, Constable of the Night.
CHARON, Ferry-man near the Shades.

PROSERPINE, Queen of the Devils.
ZERLINA,

DONNA ANNA,} Old Offenders.

Scene I.-The Strand.

Enter WATCHMEN.*

First Watchman. Past twelve, and a foggy night! What Mr. O'Connell,† is that you, now, with yourself behind your lantern-is all well?

Second Watchman. No is it! I've got a cough under my grate coat that'll carry me off.

First Watchman. That's a new manes of conveyance-I suppose you call that going inside!-you spake as if you'd the rattles in the throat.

Second Watchman. Aye-that's the wind-up of a watchman!--I think the fog gets worse and worse, like the gas lights-It's as dark as lamp light! when there's no moon!

First Watchman. How goes on business? have you sprung any game? Second Watchman. None-if I had, I should have sprung my rattle. I hardly ever gets a good row now-and a row's very dear to me!

First Watchman. Rows is riz! a good row shall fetch you in a clane five shilling bit, if you can but provoke a gentleman, and then put your head under his fist and let him pump it on you.

Second Watchman. Ah-the people get cruel quiet o' nights now. I remember better times, when things went on well and badly! But beating the watch is out of fashion! So a watchman's beat § now is worth little or nothing.

First Watchman. I now and then catch a young apprentice running home from the play, and make him come down something, for being a suspicious character in my eyes! But there a'n't no bloods now-a-days! the bloods are all skin-flints! I looks keenly after the blunt!|| but the new gashes do away all the calling for the watch.

* This commencement of the scene with Watchmen is extremely ingenious and natural. Besides, like Puff's morning gun in the Critic, they explain the hour at once, and save a great deal of fine nonsense about the moon tipping with silver all the fruit-tree tops, and the bell from the castle tower tolling the midnight hour upon the bosom of the still air. No persons understand so well the meaning of this "tipping with silver," as the watchmen.

+ These gentlemen seem sons of the Sister Isle, that is to say, our Cousins Irish.

A slap at a city improvement is a sure hit. The modern Thalia is a sort of commissioner of paving, lighting, and watching.

§ This is one of your thorough-bred puns. The first part of the sentence is set,—as the reader will observe,-like a trap; and the pun is sure to be caught in the sequel. This is better than putting Attic salt on its tail.

Blunt, money. To understand the modern operas, the audience should be hand and glove with Life in London, Hardy Vaux's Life, and Grose's Slang Dictionary. 2 K

VOL. V.

Second Watchman. Well, let's hope the times will mend and grow troublesome yet!-But I say,-do you think that singing devil in feathers† will go by again-have you seen him, Murphy?

First Watchman. No,-but Pat Daly the constable of the night says, "tis but our fancy!" and will not let Bill Leaf § take hold of him.

Second Watchman. I think he's a ghost-for I see him come out of the Adelphi || archway singing like winking.

First Watchman. Aye-that's a song to "Ladies' eyes!" Women have an arch way of singing. If we see him again-we'll give him in charge. Second Watchman. Which way does he come?

First Watchman. From the Opera.

Second Watchman. Which way does he go?

First Watchman. Towards the Fleet!

Second Watchman. They says ghosts be always Fleet goers! We'll spring our rattles if he walks the streets our way again.

First Watchman. That we will-howsomever!

Duet: ++ Air in Midas, "All around the may-pole see how we trot." With our night,-not day,-pole-how we trot,

Hot, pot,

Damn the drop we've got:

Battles,

Rattles,

First Watchman. Here comes Pat Daly !- walking along as big as a bullrush! There's no sleeping like a true watchman when he's on one's beat! He expects one to keep a sharp look out, when one's up to one's eyes in fog, like a gooseberry in milk.

Second Watchman. He's clane a nuisance; ++ I should like just to spring my rattle in his eye!-But hush, here he is.

No allusion is intended to the Newspaper of this name.

+ This first allusion to Don Giovanni is strictly conformable with the taste of the age, and coming from the Watchman it is familiar, and by no means vulgar.

Put flashicè for phantasy.

§ Whether one of the guardians of the night was really a Mr. Leaf, has never been settled; but if the fact was so, the line in Hamlet is extremely apposite," and will not let belief take hold of him." The author of this interesting piece seems to have had one eye for pathos and one for parody.

This must mean the theatre; and as Mr. M. -ff has been so extremely successful in his dramatic hashes at that house, the compliment is neat and ingenious.

** Neither Mr. Carey nor Mr. Faden could be more geographically correct. All, or nearly all the theatres are situated between the Opera and the Fleet. The Circus or Surrey is out of the line to be sure, but then it is in the rules of the Bench; and that is some compensation.

++ This Duet is beautifully introduced, and combines all the spirit of poetry with all the familiarity of domestic life. It is quite pleasant to have a song full of little else but rhyme. The great secret of music and songs in modern operas is the choice of old favourite airs, with close, but ridiculous parodies committed to the care of low and vulgar characters.

Men in office are proverbial for hating their superiors.

Enter PAT DALY, Constable of the Night.

Pat Daly. Past two o'clock !-
Second Watchman.

And the stars in wool!

Pat Daly. What are you there, Mr. Connell !—Well! Has this thing* appeared again to night?

Second Watchman. Not yet-but it's the usual hour that he toddles out of the Playhouse.

Pat Daly. Psha! There a'n't no ghost!

First Watchman. I tell you there is, Mr. Daly, and be damn'd to you. Look you!-Just as Mr. Connell's lantern had come round from the corner of Bedford-street to the place where now it darkens!-St. Martin's clock striking twelve-when-But dash my rags and rattle,† here he comes again.

Pat Daly. Why, this is the ghost of an old hurdy-gurdy! he grinds away and gets his bread by music.

Second Watchman. He will not speak.—Shall I hit him over the nob with my rattle?

First Watchman. Hush-he makes a motion as he would speak-silence.

Don Giovanni. No-no-I sha'n't trouble myself about you to-night, and

you sha'n't trouble me. I'm going by water.

Pat Daly. Through which means-you'll come by fire.§

First Watchman. All we can say is "you must walk on." You infest every house in town. Is your name Bill Soames?

A Ghost is called a thing in Hamlet, so no offence is meant, no offence in the world. This scene is largely borrowed from Hamlet, but how else could a parody walk? Mr. Mff is quite correct.

+ Alliteration is the soul of wit in pieces of this nature.

The airs in Midas are so well known that Mr. Mff has borrowed lustily from them.

§ Oons, this passage smells of sulphur.

Don Giovanni. No-It's Giovanni-away, you common herd of old women!* Begone!-Charon waits for me with his immortal wherry at the Hungerford Stairs-and I'm off to my old home!t-away!

(Singing.) Be she witty,
And pretty,

I'll kiss her for ever and ever. (Exit Giovanni.)
(The Watchmen stand astonished, ‡ and then sing)
Air, "And did you not hear of a Jolly Young Waterman."
And it's pray have you seen such a feather'd impostor, as
That which has toddled to Hungerford Stairs?
We really should nab one so bold and so boisterous,
Surely the round house will damage no squares.
For when he's there he then may sing away:
Lord! what a villain,
Where's his shilling!

By this time, his dollars should ring away,

Ghosts may be, Honey!

Go without money,

And this is a ghost I do verily think!

(Exeunt Watchmen, springing rattles.)

Scene II.-The Burning Lake. On one side, Pluto and Proserpine, &c. on a Throne; on the other, a lake of liquid sulphur.

Grand Chorus, in which Pluto's voice is heard the loudest.

There is nothing so offensive to the watchmen of this metropolis-as to have their "sex dispersed."

+ From this it should seem that this part of Giovanni's life is subsequent to his Italian death.

A fine piece of nature. In Operas, it is quite usual for surprise to vent itself in music.

§ A very grand piece of choral boasting!-I have no doubt, that, with a liberal allowance of base singers, this would be one of the most effective chorusses in the whole range of English music! It is in Mr. M's very best style.