594 



Monthly Review of Literature, 



[Nov. 



king of Sicily. Loyalty quenches jea- 

 lousy and rage, and Barto rejoices that 

 the queen of his affections is the queen 

 of his country. Patriotism now fills up 

 the vacuum of love, and all his soul is 

 absorbed in attempts to expel the Turks, 

 and reinstate the monarch. Meanwhile, 

 re-appears Cleone. Astarte loses her 

 senses, and Barto his devotion for the 

 king, who reclaims Cleone for his wife. 

 In defence of Astarte's claims, he de- 

 mands of the king to renounce Cleone, 

 and, on his refusal, rushes on him with 

 a dagger. Astarte intercepts the blow, 

 and falls dead at his feet, alter a speech, 

 in which she says, 

 Barto, dear kinsman, thou hast loved me long ; 

 Perchance, in other worlds I may repay thee, 



&c. 



Thus miserably baffled, Barto plucks the 

 dagger from her bosom, and plunges it 

 in nis own, observing 

 Since she is gone, I will not tarry here- 

 in other worlds, she said, she might repay me ; 

 I'll offer her, and see. 



which is as sensible a thing as occurs 

 in the whole piece. 



Retrospections of the Stage, ly the late 

 John Bernard, Manager of the American 

 Theatres, and formerly Secretary of the 

 Beef-Steak Club ; 2 vols. \2rno. These 

 are the most unpresuming recollections 

 of the stage we have met with ; and 

 though mixed up, as a matter of course, 

 with much coarseness not offensive 

 coarseness contain more amusing and 

 laughable passages than most of his pre- 

 decessors' communications. Forty years 

 ago, Bernard was known to the fre- 

 quenters of the theatre as the best repre- 

 sentative of fops and " fine gentlemen" 

 of the day, for which, according to his 

 own statement, he studied personally 

 Lord Conyngham and Sir John Old- 

 mixon, while at Bath, once the chief 

 seat of provincial celebrity in matters 

 of fashion and taste, and all but rivalling 

 the metropolis. Times are much changed 

 in half a century. Nobody looks for any- 

 thing but dulness now-a-days at Bath. 

 Bernard tells his own story in detail, 

 but rarely makes himself the hero of the 

 thousand jokes he introduces. Though 

 not very refined in feeling, his tact was 

 too good for gross egotism. The present 

 volumes bring up his narrative to the 

 year 1797, when, being in some pecu- 

 niary difficulties, he accepted an invita- 

 tion to America, where he continued, as 

 actor and manager for twenty years. 

 The rest of his story concerns America, 

 which, though it may not prove so 

 amusing, will be at least fuller of no- 

 velty. 



Mrs. Jordan was originally known as 

 Miss Francis. Quarrelling with the 

 Dublin manager, she joined Tate Wil- 



kinson's corps at York, where she took 

 the name of Jordan. 



As I had never heard (says Bernard) that Miss 

 Francis was married, I inquired of Wilkinson the 

 cause, and he replied, " Her name ? Why, God 

 bless you, my boy! I gave her her name, I was 

 her sponsor." " You?" "Yes: when she 

 thought of going to London, she thought Miss 

 sounded insignificant, so she asked me to advise 

 her a name : ' Why,' said I, ' my dear, you 

 have crossed the water, so I'll call you Jordan;' 

 and by the memory of Sam ! if she didn't take 

 my joke in earnest, and call herself Mrs. Jordan 

 ever since." This was Tale's story ; but as it 

 was told in his usual ambiguous way, my reader 

 may attach what credence to it he pleases. 



We have heard a different story. 



Dining one day at a party in Bath, Quin ut- 

 tered something which caused a general murmur 

 of delight. A nobleman present, who was not 

 illustrious for the brilliancy of his ideas, ex- 

 claimed, " What a pity 'tis, Quin, my boy, that 

 a clever fellow like you should be a player !" 

 Quin fixed and flashed his eye upon the person, 

 with this reply, " What would your Lordship 

 have me be ? a Lord!" 



Some amusing specimens of Norwich 

 simplicity : 



A grazier who had got into the theatre and seen 

 Griffith play Richard, on one occasion waited 

 upon the manager the next morning, to say, that 

 if the gentleman who wanted a horse on the pre- 

 vious evening held his mind, he had got an abun- 

 dance of cattle in his meadows, and should be 

 happy to deal with him. 



The Bristolians were, in the last 

 century, proverbially called Bristol 



Shuter, when in the height of his popularity, 

 visited this city one summer, and played all his 

 favourite characters with such success, that on 

 his benefit-night the receipts barely covered the 

 charges. The next day he took a handful of his 

 neglected night's bills, and walking in the midst 

 of a principal street, strewed them about, crying, 

 " Chuck, chuck, chuck !" (the term used in feed- 

 ing their swine.) This bold experiment on their 

 pride and generosity proved successful. Shuter 

 was induced to try a second night, and the house 

 was tilled up to the ceiling. 



A royal pun : 



Mrs. Badclelcy was very popular in her day, 

 for the harmonizing sweetness of her person and 

 voice ; unhappily, she was also distinguished for 

 some imprudences in conduct. A Royal Person- 

 age was very much pleased with her, to whom 

 the latter circumstance being mentioned" Well, 

 well," said he, with a generosity that always 

 characterised him, " she may have performed 

 ' Badly' in private, but in public ahe is very good 

 indeed !" 



One, a little smarter, of Sheridan's : 

 Sheridan was down at Brighton one summer, 

 and Fox, desirous of shewing him some civility, 

 took him all over the theatre, and exhibited its 

 beauties. ' There, Mr. Sheridan," said he, " I 

 constructed tins stage, I built and painted those 



