was poorly filled. Where was Mr. Elliston for Cassio? Is the part beneath his notice or does Mr. Young stipulate for his exclusion? Elliston has the round merry face and handsome laughing eye which are suited for the part-he is of smooth dispose. Poor Terry, with his wise face and iron tones, was sentenced to hard labour in the character for the night. And, to be sure, with Mr. Young to suggest jealousy, and Mr. Terry to be the object suspected, Mr. Kean's monster must have been peculiarly green-eyed. Mr. Terry is a sensible man, and therefore he played under, as the phrase is,-but do what he would, he could not look or speak like the gallant Cassio, "framed to make women false." Mrs. W. West bravadoed rather in Desdemona : and Penley, in Roderigo, carried on a minor rivalry of power with Mr. Powell, in Brabantio.

Old and Young-Miss C. Fisher. An ingenious piece under this title has been produced, for the purpose of exhibiting the surprising talents of Miss C. Fisher in various and oppo site characters. This little girl is, in herself, worth a bushel of grown-up actresses whose names we could mention; but whatever pleasure her cleverness occasions, it is damped by the consciousness which we feel, that this cleverness must and will outgrow itself. We look upon the vast dome of Drury Lane as the hothouse glass that forces her beauty and her talent to early maturity and premature decay. No present salary can be a compensation to her for the ruin which is being brought upon her mind!

COVENT GARDEN. Maid Marian.

Robin Hood-and his gallant men of Sherwood-hunters of the deer under the green shades of the forest -feasters at the wild-wood table bold men and true at the quarterstaff-your only "Constitutional Association" for the preservation of liberty are like eagles caged-or as chained lions, when penned within the petty limits of a theatre. "Grieve and assistants" are great men, as all lovers of a romantic scene can attest; but "Grieve and assistants" may paint away, till their brushes have not a hair left upon their heads, JAN, 1823.

and still not succeed in giving the mind even a distant idea of Sherwood Forest, with its soft verdant turfpleasant waters-and wilderness of broad trunks. Robin Hood's oaks are of the open air-they must look freedom and serenity.

A new Opera, with Robin Hood for its hero, has been produced at Covent Garden, with all the accustomed splendour of dress, scenery, and appointments, for which that theatre is so deservedly celebrated. But although the dialogue was taken chiefly from the most spirited passages of the great novelist (as the author of Ivanhoe is called, to dis tinguish him from Fielding and Smollett), and although the songs were agreeable modern versions of the fine wild ballads of the olden timestill the characters came poorly off

and the interest continually flagged almost to the Opera's destruction. Robin Hood had his vest of Lincoln Green, his bugle slung over his forest-coat, his cap and buskins fitted for the dewy wood. But he had no space to wander in, and trod his poor allowance of stage and mimic wilderness with confined and spiritless tread-mocking at liberty. The white bear at Exeter Change seemed not more limited in his movements. What indeed is Robin Hood without his free range of hill and brake? What is he, unless the true trees are over him, and the forest airs in his face? What, without the bounding hart fleeting before his whistling arrow, and his foot ready for the track? When a curtain can be drawn over Sherwood Forest, and the summer wind can play overture to the songs of Maid Marian and her serving men, then we shall have hope of Robin Hood becoming a fit hero for an Opera; but until the Forest itself shall be the stage, the notes of Robin must be as the notes of the caged lark-a song to lost liberty!

Having thus spoken of the hopeless task of any one attempting a successful Drama on this subject, from the impossibility of mastering the spirit of outlawry-we shall proceed to speak of the present opera of Maid Marian, as it is acted. If a play could be attractive in which Robin Hood, William Gamwell, and Little John are imprisoned-the pre

H

sent production would stand no ill chance of success? There is a mass of famous men and women. Richard the First is splendidly introduced. Robert, Earl of Locksley, has his merry men all fitly appareled-Maid Marian sings, so that you would think the green boughs were woven over her head-and that the forest echoes might awaken at such sweet breath. All that could be done, is done.

Mr. Abbott, in the Earl of Lock ley, is, perhaps, a falling off; for it requires something more than respectability to fill the part of the brave outlaw; and, unfortunately, no living performer so often calls this fatal word of negative praise into use as Mr. Abbott. We are not at all aware of any reasonable obstacle standing between the character and Mr. Macready for whom indeed we think it eminently fitted. We remember this gentleman's spirited sketch of Rob Roy and cannot help thinking that he makes a mistaken husbandry of his talents when he refuses lending himself to the performance of romantic characters, of this description, although they do not exactly come within the cir cle of the legitimate drama. Mr. Macready's Rob Roy was the Freebooter himself-rudely and strongly dashed off, and proudly showing the hand of a master. If he had played Robin Hood,-which, for his own sake, and that of the public, we think he ought to have done-we should then have seen an outlaw worthy of Sherwood. The elastic foot, and manly mellow voice of Macready, are such as our fancy gives to Robin, Mr. Abbott, respectable as he is, is not the light, free, fearless man we dream of. He is not of the trees!The summer light is not in his eye the summer airs are not in his face. His limbs are not springy-as though they were ever forest-free! Robin Hood should show to the eye as the man who could hit the flying hart-or run him down on the merry hills!-We fear Mr. Macready is giving in to the hateful vices of the stage-and that he is for standing aloof from particular characters, and in particular dramas. He is certainly a gentleman of great and undoubted talent, and should not be above playing any

part which would show that talent to advantage; he should remember that he gained much of his present popularity by his powerful delineations of romantic characters, and that now to whistle them off, is betraying a want of prudence and good sense, which we should not expect to find in him. Garrick was not above playing Abel Drugger.

Mr. Charles Kemble made an excellent, jolly, tipsy, taking Abbot, (of course not the respectable Abbott). His bald head seemed mocked by his handsome merry visage

and the long grey cloak and holy insignia were admirably unformalized by the loose eye, swinging arms, hands flask-filled, and staggering feet, of the young confessor. His voice pitched and tossed about like a vessel in distress-and he himself never stood still, but appeared to be riding at anchor. He really drank, hallooed, and sang, like a true monk

and the soul of good fellowship reigned in his reeling eye!-We never saw Charles Kemble so happy, wild, and spirited. Rubygill Abbey, with six such fellows as he, would make no bad palace for merry Christmas!

Baron Fitzwater, a tetchy old Baron, built rather upon the Anthony Absolute scale, was given to Mr. Farren, and was not badly played by that gentleman. But Mr. Farren is too rigid a performer for any character out of the old school of stiff genteel comedy! A Mr. Hunt Gog'd the part of Little John to admiration.

The music is extremely pretty, though it has the freebooter's mark a little too strongly upon it in certain parts. We have heard some of the notes somewhere before. But let that pass!

We must not conclude without expressing our delight at Miss M. Tree's performance-her name seemed to be her nature. She was Maid Marian to the life.

When she sang,

and when she spake, the forest of Sherwood spread its green boughs in the air, the herd went trooping by, and the ear seemed to feel the noise of the foresters, and the rustling of the forest leaves come swooning upon the air as in the very days of the merry merry Outlaw-Bold Robin Hood!

The Huguenot. This extravagant play, from the extravagant peu

of the author of Adelaide (an old dead German horror), was advertised as a tragedy; but so great an impostor has seldom suffered the pains and #penalties of exposure. It is, how ever, gathered to its fathers or rather, to its mother-old Mrs. Adelaide! and we shall therefore dismiss it with few words. It was an agonizing version of the Two Galley Slaves-dragged through five acts of unaccountable horrors, and ending in a happy joining of hands at the Si scaffold's foot, and at the instant of a parent's death. Macready played with great vigour and effect; but no acting could excuse the monstrous * exaggerations which broke out in every scene. A slave and a supposed murderer are sad company through 患。 five long acts. Mr. Abbott was the only good person, for he forgot his part, which we rather think mainly contributed to the temporary success of the Drama, Every incident was carried to the verge of reality, and then as suddenly broken off. A mar riage is all but solemnized-the hands are joined the altar is near-the

priest has begun the ceremonywhen the murderer with his red cross rushes in-demands to speak with the bride, and converses desperately for ten minutes, while the husband respectfully stands aloof!-An execution is all but executed! The axe is ready, the scaffold, black as the sweeper at the Obelisk, is ascended,— the neck is bared!-when a messenger arrives to say, that the intended victim's father has just died, and acknowledged himself the murderer. Of course, the axe is arrested, and the prisoner set at large;-he rushes into his mistress's arms, and they live very happy ever after. The language is bad blank verse-heavily laden with nonsense and horror. One other sin this tragedy has to answer for-it has shaken our faith in the powers of Miss F. M. Kelly! - We did say that we felt sure of her-but her acting in this new Tragedy has alarmed us--and until we have seen other evidence of her talents we shall suspend our great opinion of her, How is it, that she plays no other part but Juliet?

THE most important novelty in the musical circles is the establishment of THE BRITISH CONCERTS. We alluded in our last report to the probability that a plan for the encouragement of British talent would be tried, and, since we wrote, the proposals have been issued. The increasing influence of foreign musicians, and the substitution of foreign compositions for those of English masters in all our concerts, have for ages been matter of continual complaint among the professors of our own country; but nothing has hitherto been done towards combating the adversary. Every circumstance has, on the contrary, been favourable to this introduction and exaltation. Italy has ever been considered as the parent of vocal art. The Italian opera exhibits the rich est specimens. Hence, as from a central light, rays are darted in every direction. The prima donna of the King's Theatre is sure to be found at

every superior concert, private or public; we have too from thence a Succession of superiority. Catalani, Fodor, Bellochi, and Camporese, to say nothing of the Buffa ladies, have all appeared, while the English stage has presented no other eminent vocalist than Miss Stephens, (Miss Tree can hardly yet be said to have risen to this distinction). Variety, therefore, lends its powerful aid, and the effect is such as it must ever be while opera continues in its present low state in England. From the King's Theatre, the most beautiful compositions are transmitted to the Orchestras of the Concert rooms, and of late they have even been suffered to usurp the most prominent places in the Lent Oratorios. The same circumstances attend almost all the other branches of public music. The importation of male singers is in a like comparative profusion; Mr. Vaughan, Mr. Braham, and Mr. Knyvett, are standing dishes; and

they are admirable fare beyond all question; but all of them have been before the public these five-andtwenty years at least, while the Tramezzanis, the Naldis, and the Crivellis, the Ambrogettis, the Garcias, Curionis, Zuchellis, De Begnis, and a hundred others, afford a never ending train of diversity both in quality and manner. The country must be most prolific where there are so many nurseries for talent. There are not only the conservatories, but there are great theatres in almost every city. The captivation of Mozart and Rossini has completed the triumph. They are now omnipresent. The melodies and the comic concerted pieces of the latter fix themselves in every fancy. It is in vain that our musical philosophers, or philosophical musicians, appeal to sense and sentiment. Melody, catching melody, wafts away all their solid theories at a breath. Voluptuous sensations, or lively pleasures, are preferred to the lofty affections. It ought not to be so, say our wise men. Granted; replies the public-but nevertheless so it is.

But though we adore Mozart, and are certainly animated and affected by Rossini; though Catalani has entranced us; though we have been raised by Tramezzani, have admired the whim of Naldi, and even wept for their miserable fate;* though we have been melted by Crivelli, are still enthralled by Camporese, and are more than half in love with De Begnis (Madame, gentle reader, for we are not a Lady, though boasting ourselves the fairest of critics); in spite of all these thoughs, we are rejoiced to see our countrymen come hardily forward to vindicate their claims and to assert their powers, for in truth, they have never been able to obtain an impartial hearing. The history of the British Concerts is plainly this. About twenty-five years ago, a society of the then eminent writers of vocal English music, Webbe, Robert Cooke, Callcott, Horsley, Pring, and some others, associated for mutual correction and improvement, under the name of the Concentores. They met monthly at each other's

houses, and brought some new composition every night; but jealousies crept in, and death and calamity made serious inroads amongst them, and the society was dissolved. But after a time, some of the most zealous of the survivors reunited the existing members of the body; they attracted new companions, and persevered in a cause which has been found to be privately and publicly useful. These same individuals now stand forward for the almost abandoned honour of British art; and, disavowing all personal interests, they offer to the English composer of talent an orchestra from whence his works may be heard to advantage, and to the public, the power of pa tronizing and warming into life and excellence the native genius of the country. At the outset they begin warily and prudently. They limit the subscription to two guineas; the admission for this sum to four persons for three Concerts. Their band will be principally vocal, with perhaps half a dozen accompanying in struments. But they declare their intention to extend their views according to the means which patronage may furnish. The Concerts are to be held on the 10th and 24th of February, and the 10th of March; the names of the members of this praise-worthy institution are as fol low:

Messrs. Atwood, Bishop, Elliot, Goss, Hawes, Horsley, Jolly, Linley, Sir G. Smart, and Mr. Walmesley.

The associates of the society are

Messrs. King, Leete, Terrail, and J. B. Sale.

Messrs. Atwood, Hawes, and Horsley, are appointed directors for the present year. Here is certainly great talent, the flower indeed of English talent; and it will be the greatest dishonour the art has yet suffered in this country, if the scheme be not joined by all who are interested in the exaltation of the profession, and patronized by those who hold England in estimation.

The City Amateur Concerts are abandoned; but wherefore is not known. The subscription last year

was full, and the subscribers, to all appearance, perfectly satisfied. Such a termination, however, accords with general experience. It very rarely happens that Concerts established by Amateurs, and depending either upon their direction or performance, survive for any considerable time. It is not difficult to understand that the management of such a Concert demands from mere ameteurs even more time and attention, than from the practical and professional conductor. They soon get weary of what they find amounts to a positive restriction, both upon their time and pursuits, of far greater amount than they calculated upon: if successful, they are soon satiated with praise; if, on the contrary, things do not go on as well as they should do, they are disgusted with the envy and jealousies, and such other motives, to which alone they attribute the disregard to which they are exposed; thus they are equally spoiled by victory or defeat, and it is well if they do not fall together by the ears.

At Cambridge there were three evening Concerts, but no morning performances; but, either from the election, which happened at the time, or from some other cause, though the first since his appointment, under the conduct of the new professor of music, Dr. Clarke Whitfield, the worthy professor suffered a loss. Miss Paton was the prima donna, and, with Miss Travis and Mr. Vaughan, made up the vocal orchestra. But the great strength was given to the instrumental band, which was complete throughout.

Dr. Smith has had his annual Concert at Richmond. Mrs. Salmon, Miss Witham, and Mr. Rovedino, assisted. Miss Witham is a pupil of Mr. Rovedino, but, though possessed of fair abilities, gives no promise of far excelling eminence.

It should seem somewhat extraordinary that Bath, a place of fashionable resort, that promises, after London, the most ample patronage, should be found unequal to the support of a public Concert. Such, however, appears of late to have been the fact. The performances have generally commenced in December (on Christmas Eve very frequently); and in January, last year, Mr. Ashe

the conductor, since the death of Rauzzini, stated by advertisement, that through the losses he had experienced during the three previous seasons, together, with the failure of, the series then in progress, he was compelled to give up the undertaking. He announced his last benefit, and related that himself and Mrs. Ashe had relinquished permanent engagements in London, in the hope of succeeding in this enterprise, which, after a trial of twelve years, he was thus at length obliged to abandon. He subsequently even returned a part of the subscriptions, so hopeless did he consider the concern. But Sir George Smart and Mr. Loder have adventured to take them up. They advertise nine concerts, and have either engaged, or are in treaty with, the whole circle of musical talent. There is scarcely a name of eminence, either vocal or instrumental, which their list does not include; while, with a liberality which does them credit, Sir George and Mr. Loder yield both the leading and the conduct in turn to other eminent profes sors. The plan of the concerts, if not novel, embraces a principle which ought to be better understood, and more generally practised. This principle is to make good music cheap, and, by such means, accessible to the many. A Concert should be viewed in some such light as the following. Its expences should be estimated, and a fair compeusation set apart for the risk and the trouble of management. The conductors, having made this computation, should endeavour to obtain the sum by a liberal concession to subscribers, and rather seek to gain by numbers than by a high price of admission. Nothing, we are persuaded, would so certainly tend to the diffusion of art, and to make Concerts frequent and profitable, as such a plan. And provided the room be sufficiently spacious, what does it matter to the entrepreneur, whether he derives his gains from one hundred or from two hundreds of auditors? Thus the directors of the Bath Concerts, apparently keeping this public end in view, have arranged a scale of prices, ascending in proportion to the number of tickets subscribed for. The subscriber for twenty-seven tickets (for the nine