1830.] Theatrical Matters. 689 



part: he has dexterity, neatness, and na'ivett, and his part requires no 

 more. No French comedy, since the days of Moliere, ventures on 

 strength of character that depth and vigour of human nature which 

 makes the stage the true picture of human passion. The French comedy 

 is a five-act farce ; while the French farce is a jeu d'esprit, a lucky 

 thought, a fragment of adventure, with a shadow of wit. But it answers 

 its purpose. Natio comceda est. It makes a farce-loving nation lounge 

 night after night to the theatre, and relieves the ennui of a fireside with- 

 out a fire, and a family dying of each other and of nothing to do. For a 

 people whose motto is, A house without a home, the vaudeville was the 

 happiest discovery in the national annals, and was fairly entitled to all the 

 honours of Sancho Panza's panegyric on eating and drinking ; " being 

 the best employment under the sun for those who are idle, hungry, or were 

 born to do nothing else in the wide world." The neighbourhood of Tot- 

 tenham-street is enlightened by an English vaudeville theatre exhi- 

 biting some very ingenious performances ; but until the manager shall 

 rely more upon his own resources than on the exhausted dramas of the 

 other theatres, he must be content to have the fate of borrowers. His 

 company is chiefly formed of the actors disengaged during the recess of 

 the Haymarket, and comprehends some popular favourites. 



The King's Theatre lingered long in that expectant state in which the 

 audience are left to expect every thing. Monsieur Laporte expected the 

 arrival of some of those Pastas and Malibrans which were to cover his 

 stage with glory ; and the public reluctantly expected the natural conse- 

 quences of paying twelve thousand pounds a year for the profits of the 

 King's Theatre, with such singers as Curioni for their Apollo, and Blasis 

 for their Euphrosyne. The new ballet of William Tell was clever, so far 

 as having some good dances, some very showy uniforms, and every thing 

 but an effective story. M. Deshayes may rely upon it that it is next to 

 impossible to manage a conspiracy and a war in a ballet. Love, whether 

 among men or fairies ; magic ; and the manoeuvring of maidens in the 

 various saltatory states of maiden perplexity, art, or passion ; romantic 

 adventures, bewildered knights, palaces turned into grottoes, and grot- 

 toes blazoned into palaces, by the flourish of a wand; the hunting of 

 stags, wild as their mountain breezes, across a mighty plain thirty feet 

 by sixty ; and the joyous sound of the horn of Adonis or Acteon through 

 the depths of a forest reckoning from ten to a dozen trees, are the native 

 subjects of the ballet. Let M. Deshayes look to this field of glory, and 

 then triumph. But let him beware of the nodosities of courts, the in- 

 describable wiliness of a tyrant's heart, the horribly grim and undramalit 

 physiognomy of William Tell, and the abhorrent colour of even the very 

 short petticoats of even the very pretty Mademoiselle de Varennes. 



The Covent Garden Theatrical Fund had a grand display in the due 

 season. The Duke of Clarence in the chair, embellished with a whole 

 galaxy of noble contributors. 



The Royal Duke sustained his troublesome distinction with great 

 patience, many speeches, and much applause. Mathews, as usual, sang 

 a capital song, which he, as usual, confined to the ears of the ducal circle ; 

 for, three yards beyond, not a syllable of it could be distinguished from" 

 the "Epsom Races" or the " Nightingale Club." The song was encored, 

 in the vain hope of hearing through the hall a little of what it meant ; 

 but the second attempt was, if possible, more cloudy than the first j and 

 Mathews sat down under cover of his early laurels, and surrounded with 



M. M. New Series, VOL. IX. No. 54. 4 T 



