have been far apart; for he became early in life a contributor to the magazines, and was at once welcomed by the then public as one of the liveliest and most pregnant of its periodical entertainers. His first title, we believe, was assumed in the "Monthly Mirror," wherein he for some time figured as "Endymion the Exile;" he was then recognized as "Horace in London ;" but his contributions to these pages have appeared under various names-" Grimm's Ghost," "London Lyrics," "Martial in London," &c. It was in 1812 that, in conjunction with his brother Horace, he produced the "Rejected Addresses," a series of poetical imitations that are (some of them) quite inimitable; and that, though flung among the laughing crowd as the mere squibs and crackers of the moment, have enjoyed a sparkling and whizzing celebrity for an entire quarter of a century. Those who best remember them will best appreciate James's share in the production of these pleasantries. Having thus shone out as a poetical imitator of the first grade, it was natural that he should sympathise with a dramatic imitator, each of whose copies was "warranted a likeness." James Smith was, of all comic writers, the wit and humourist whom Mathews wanted; and Mathews was, of all merrymen, the intellectual wag and the refined droll whom James Smith, as a writer for the theatre, would deem essential to his purposes. Both, therefore, were fortunate, when, in 1820, the "Country Cousins" made their appearance at the English Opera, all in the person of that company of comedians, known by the name of Charles Mathews. The success of this entertainment seduced our author into a little extra exertion; and he produced in the two succeeding years the "Trip to France" and the" Trip to America." These comic chapters upon life and character, in all their various phases, have high and rare merits of their own, and were not, as some of the entertainments were, dependent upon the face, voice, and manner of the actor for their chance of being remembered. The wild jests and merry conceits that are set, like harmless steel-traps and innocent spring-guns on those premises, go off to this hour, with admirable effect, in companies where few who hear them guess at the originator. Mr. Smith's official duties have prevented his literary cultivation of the comic powers, which, in these, as in almost all his compositions, he has given emphatic signs of. The author of such stray satires and odd humours as are traceable to his pen, could have written at least half-adozen genuine comedies. The age has lost something by James Smith's law. That Chief Justice Mansfield's pat on the head may have crushed the eggs of many glorious ideas, and left nothing in their place but "this indenture witnesseth." Certain it is that our subject has taken his ease where he ought to have been indefatigable, and has only written scenes where he should have achieved comedies. He has not wooed the Muses with the assiduity, and consequently not with the success that has attended the efforts of his brother. As a writer, therefore, whose object has been as much to amuse himself as others, and who has found in literature rather an agreeable relaxation from labour than a labour at once of love and of necessity, he must be content to take an assured and not undistinguished rank among "The mob of gentlemen who write with ease; His easy writing, however, does not constitute reading of an opposite kind, as easy writing too often does. Our subject is a member of the Athenæum, Union, and Garrick Clubs; and at the doors of these his grey mare may be often seen. He himself is to be seen inside, rigidly restricting himself at dinner (so we are told in confidence) to a half-pint of sherry! We have just characterized Mathews as a company of comedians,-let us designate James Smith as an incorporated temperance society. But let us, above all things, do him justice. His half-pint is not his choice,-he dilutes it with frequent tears. He is restricted, not by virtuous sobriety, but by vicious gout. Of that, we have already said, he stands, or rather sits, in awe. But for that, we venture to say, there would be no such small bottle of that liquid, to remind the observer of Pope's " Avidien and his Wife," (Lady Mary Wortley and her then antiquated spouse,)“One frugal cruet served them both to dine, And pass'd at once for vinegar and wine." . The late Sir William Aylett, a grumbling member of the Union, and a two-bottle man, observing Mr. Smith to be thus frugally furnished, eyed his cruet with contempt, and exclaimed, "So, I see you have got one of those d-life-preservers!" In spite of this enforced abstemiousness, James Smith is sure of a hearty reception in every society which he frequents. This he owes, not to his name, but to his character; not to his lyrics and essays, but to his practical good-humour and vivacity. These qualities he is more apt to display to advantage in a small than in a large circle. But in either his gaiety is never wanting when his turn comes round; and if he cannot hit upon an impromptu, he will sing you one of his old lyrics, in a style which is half singing and half recitation. As his voice fails him, he can eke it out with laughter. He is not the man to waste the sweets of his age in lamentations over the loss of youth, or wishes that he had his time over again. He, like Cato, tells the gods that he is satisfied. "World," he exclaims, in the poem named "Chigwell," to which we have referred, 66 World, in thy ever-busy mart, I've acted no unnoticed part, Would I resume it? Oh, no! Four acts are done, the jest grows stale; The waning lamps burn dim and pale, And reason asks, cui bono ?" We cannot, however, say what wishes might be excited, if our philosopher were to meet again that surnameless Nancy to whom he has given a poetical niche,-whom he sensitively remembers as "The pride of Chigwell Row, Who set all hearts a-dancing;" and whom, even in these later days, he fancies that he sees "in bonnet white, divine brunette," tripping across the fields to Chigwell church. Could he see her otherwise than as a vision, we doubt whether she would go thither alone. Of course James Smith is a bachelor? Well, whether he be or be not destined to get a glimpse of Nancy, who occupied a pew under the gallery, we trust that he will ever enjoy pleasant companionship in his own good company; and should he ever propose, we can only say in that case, may his Addresses not be Rejected! L. B. THE HUMORIST. SHAKSPEARE IN CHINA. BY DOUGLAS JERROLD. "I cannot tell that the wisest Mandarin now living in China is not indebted for part of his energy and sagacity to Shakspeare and Milton, even though it should happen that he never heard of their names."-Godwin's Essay on Sepulchres. We do great injustice to the College of Mandarins, if we think that body at the present time ignorant of the marvels of Shakspeare. No: Canton has produced its commentator, and by the means of his explanatory genius it is hoped that in a few years the whole Celestial Empire will, in the fulness of its knowledge, bow to the majesty of the poet. At this moment we have before us a radiant evidence of the admission of the Great Teacher into the Sacred City: believe it, astounded reader, Shakspeare has gone farther than Nieuhoff. England, however—that England, who has shown herself such an idolatress of her darling sonwho has encircled the house in which he first drew breath with a golden rail-who has secured it from possible destruction at the hands of the bigot, by making it the property of the state *-that England, who, when the tree planted by the bard was felled by the axe, wept as she turned the timber into 'bacco-stoppers-that England, who, even at the present time, only a little more than two centuries after his death, has already begun to think of the propriety of erecting, at some future day, a national monument to her poet-that England cannot, after the many and affecting instances of her deep maternal love toward her most illustrious child, refuse to aid in the dissemination of Shakspearanity in any corner of the world, but at the present interesting crisis, more particularly in the empire of China. The urgency of the case calls for immediate cooperation on the part of Great Britain, and we put it zealously but deferentially to Lord Palmerston to consider, and that instantly, the most effectual means. We shall show that we ask no impertinent favour— we shall prove our case by the production of the commentaries of our Mandarin, for a correct translation of which we are indebted to an agent of Dr. Morrison; to the same learned gentleman who has so successfully rendered "The Hygeist" into the most classical Chinese, and has thereby given an extraordinary fillip to our shipping trade, fifty of the largest vessels now lying in the river, with pills in ballast for the exclusive use of the Hong merchants; men, who, until the present time, have been, and, as it now appears, most unjustly, accused of having very * The mulberry-tree was cut down; and the race of Gastrels is not extinct. June.-VOL, L. NO, CXCV111. R little bowels for "barbarians." However, let us fully state our case before we proceed to show documentary evidence. Happily, at no time since the flag was first hoisted at the Globe, Bankside, have we been in such a condition to render assistance to our brethren, the Chinese, as in the present year. At no point of time could we spare so many actors for exportation; the pain of the sacrifice being somewhat alleviated by an indifference on the part of the town whether they ever returned again. Yes; it is but too evident that we have arrived at that enviable state of high civilization when mere passion, and mere human character, as shown in the theatre, are deemed the remnants of a gross and ignorant age, and shunned by the genteel accordingly. To be sure, exotics of a rare and delicate flavour will still delight; a jumping negro succeeds when talking comedy has passed away; and the English theatre may, possibly, flourish another twelvemonth, if, like our sugar plantations, it be cultivated by free blacks. As, however, we cannot with any modesty rely on a further supply of wit and humour from New York for the demand of next season, we submit that there never was a time so fitting as the present for the exportation of our surplus actors. Caring little about them ourselves, we are in the happiest vein to be liberal by shipping them to the Chinese. Still, in our selection of Shakspearian missionaries, it behoves us to avoid enthusiasts: inflammable zeal is, at times, worse than sluggish coldness. For instance, we would send no such fiery spirit as the present Covent-garden proprietor; a gentleman whose passionate devotion to Shakspeare is, from its ungovernable intensity, but too apt to betray him into an agreeable confusion of dates, even causing him to make yeomen of the guard mourners at the funeral of the Sixth Henry! (It may be, however, that this pleasing anachronism was intended as a delicate compliment to a brother proprietor, a distinguished private of the present corps.) Nor whilst we reject men whose Shakspearian zeal amounts almost to fanaticism, would we, in our exports, copy the Chinese in the treatment of their Howqua, sending to Canton tragedians cased in lead. We require good, steady, moderate men; and if we mistrust the unquenchable ardour, the unmitigable passion of an Osbaldiston, so, for a first experiment, would we eschew the classic coldness of a Yates. Not that we are without the most lively hopes of a speedy demand for fire and pathos no, we trust the day is not very distant when the original Jonathan Bradford shall be the especial pet of the public of Pekin. That Shakspeare is become with us as unfashionable as a Druid, is but too evident in the touching efforts of patent managers: nothing can exceed what we must call their zealous antiquarianism in their attempts to keep the poet before the careless and ungrateful town. With a noble obstinacy in their great purpose, how affectingly do they copy the sagacity of the Irish gentleman who, to pass off a bad halfpenny, adroitly placed it between two good ones; how, to get Shakspeare received at all, do they play a bit of him between an opera and a dance. No; we fear it is only in China that five long acts in one evening will again be placidly endured, patience being a distinguishing virtue of the Chinese. Having completed, what we allow to have been a needless task, an essay on the inutility of Shakspeare in England, the time is now arrived to show our claims on the assistance of the Foreign Secretary, for the instant shipment of actors to the Celestial Empire. The cry that the Chinese are not yet fit for Shakspeare-a cry raised in the same acute spirit in which people in chains have been said not to be fit for freedom —can, we think, have no bad effect on even moderately liberal men, after the production of papers now beneath our hands. All we ask of Lord Palmerston is a company, to act either on board Chinese junks or on shore, as the intellectual wants of his Majesty may require; nay, if under the direction of their own stage-manager, to exhibit themselves at any distance in the interior. The company to be paid and clothed by the government for whose benefit they act, with this condition, that they be subject to the laws and customs of the Chinese, obediently shaving their eyebrows and letting their tails grow. For the passing difficulty of the language, that we have no doubt will soon be overcome; many of the actors, we religiously believe it, speaking and playing equally well in English or in Chinese. We now come to the proofs of the fit condition of the people for Shakspeare-for that which they will "hail as a boon," and which we shall part with as a drug. Some months since, it was our fortune to be present at an auction of curiosities from the East-shells, parrots, rice-paper, chopsticks, japanned cabinets, and cut-throat sparrows. Our friend Peregrine-he had just arrived from the Great Pyramid, from the top of which, and by means of a most excellent glass, he had discovered, and after made captive, three giraffes-bade money for a picture: as it was a scene from Shakspeare there were of course no opposing bidders, and he became the owner of what proved to be an exquisite evidence of Chinese art and imitation; in brief, no other than a copy, faithfully drawn, and most brilliantly coloured, by an artist at Canton, of the Boydell picture of Falstaff in the buck-basket, and the Merry Wives. The picture, however, proved in itself to be of little value compared to the essay found to be inserted at the back between the picture and the frame; being written on paper, half a quire of which would not exceed the thickness of a butterfly's wing, it is no wonder that the treasure escaped even the meritorious vigilance of an auctioneer. It is this essay that we now propose to submit to the reader, in evidence of the condition of China for an instant export of a company of fine Shakspearian actors. When we state that the essay has been printed by its author in at least one of the Canton journals, the dissemination and adoption of the principles comprised in it, over the whole of China, cannot for half a moment be a matter of doubt. We regret that we cannot wholly acquit our intelligent Mandarin of the taint of ingratitude. It is evident that his views of English history -at least of that portion in which Falstaff conspicuously appears, for the writer suffers no subject to escape in any way involved in the character of the immortal knight-have been gathered from one of our fellow-countrymen; he has, if we may be allowed to say it, sucked the brain as a "weasel sucks eggs," of some enlightened but obscure supercargo, whom he has left unhonoured and unthanked. How different, in a similar case, was the conduct of an Englishman: our deep veneration of the national character will not, at this happy moment, suffer us to be silent on the grateful magnanimity of Mr. Nahum Tate, who, in his preface to his improved version of "King Lear," returns his "thanks to |