good for her. The character of Sophia is, familiar kind of intercourse, which becomes rather a non-descript. every day more intimate, and ends in a proposal of marriage, which is that very night (of the opening of the scene) to take place. By one of those fatalities which often overthrow the best concerted plans, a young stranger, the lover of Adela, the widow's only daughter, happens to introduce himself to the house, and this young man has been one of the numerous victims of M. de Saint-Remi's machinations. Belman, adopted from childhood by M. Dumont, the brother of Madame de Franval, after having re The Amateurs and Actors, another new short drama, is an entertaining piece, though it has a little too large a proportion of nonsense for the one good sketch of character (that of the free-school boy) which it affords. Nor can we applaud the direct and personal attacks upon certain known individuals, which, in a theatre, a servant of the public, are at least licentious, not to||ceived, no one knows why, a considerable sum, say insolent. Let any one imagine how he would feel, if he himself should be produced upon the public stage; and let no one encourage towards another what may be repeated on himself. This practice ought not to be encouraged. In manners, and even in morals, ridicule is less frequently employed as the test of truth, than truth, under a perverse taste and corrupt feelings, is made the butt of ridicule. The following is the plot of Amateurs and Actors :-A country stage-manager, named O. P. Bustle, is engaged by an amateur of the name of Dulcet, to superintend a private theatre in which he is concerned. Dulcet is a lover and a man of taste, in which capacity he runs away with Miss Hardacre, the ward of Elderberry, a retired tradesman, and takes her to Bustle's house. Elderberry pursues the parties to their retreat, but being ignorant of the atricals, he mistakes the grimaces and declamations of the persons occupied in rehearsal, for symptoms of insanity, and concludes he has got into a madhouse. A number of ludicrous circumstances occur on this point. The lovers, however, are united in the end; and the piece fixes the attention, and excites the laughter of the audience. FRENCH THEATRICALS. to place him in some respectable situation, and is gone to England to perform the character of the prodigal son; for all this money has got into the industrious hands of M. de Saint-Remi. On his return, by a chance, not more easy to be explained, he has become acquainted with Adela, and has fallen in love with her. It may easily be guessed that his presence at Madame de Franval's is an invincible obstacle to the interested projects of Saint-Remi. He meets with M. Dumont, who, by a prodigy yet more surprising than those above quoted, does not recollect the child of his adoption, and the object of his tenderest affection. How can it be conceived that the absence of a few years can have so altered Belman as to render bim incognisable to his benefactor! Belman could not have been a child when M. Dumont placed in his hands a sum which was to have made his for tune! And from twenty to twenty-five years, the period is not so long as to operate such a metamorphosis, and so change those features which must have been engraven on the memory, and on the heart. However, Saint-Remi, already much embarrassed by M. Dumont, is yet more so by the presence of Belman, which offers to this bro ther-in-law a very powerful auxiliary; for, by one word, he could throw down the edifice that the cupidity of the adventurer had raised: therefore, to get hold of Belman, and stop his tongue, to make him in some manner his accomplice, is what Saint-Remi must aim at. He offers him bis purse, and promises to hasten his marriage with Adela; the principles of Belman, shaken by this consideration, are about to give way. In the meantime, honour is one single sentiment, and mistresses may be many; honour, therefore, takes the precedency, and Belman courageously THEATRE FRANCAIS.-Sketch of The denounces Saint-Remi as the usurper of an illusSharper : A kind of black-leg, who calls himself Derfeuille de Saint-Remi, after having made several dupes in London, returns to France, more disbonoured than enriched by his plunder. A rich widow, possessed of an annual income of an hundred thousand livres, and yet capable of inspiring a tender affection, the mother of a daughter yet more lovely, lets an apartment to him in her house. False documents, by papers, no seeming luxury, and insinuating manners, have soon established between him and his landlady a trious name-as the author of his ruin-as a man in the habit of living by the ignorance and credulity of others. Dumont triumphs, and fancies his poor sister undeceived; but Madame Franval, blinded by her passion, is obstinate, and convinced that all which has been revealed to her is a chimera, and that all the opposition she meets with, is only the result of a scheme laid by her brother, her daughter, and Belman, against a marriage which she is pleased to contract, and she makes ready to accelerate its conclusion. Dumont has then recourse to other means; and this produces a fine stage effect: he is possessed of million; he loves his sister and his niece; and wishes to save them from the consequences of a marriage, which must be a scandal to the one, and a disgrace to the other. In a tête-à-tête with Saint-Remi, he offers him an hundred thousand crowns, in hard cash, if he will give up all pretensions to the hand of Madame Franval. The money is spread on the table, and the paper of agreement, to be signed. Saint-Remi, who is not ignorant of the informations that can be collected concerning him, hesitates, wavers, and, at length, sets himself in order to sign a renunciation for which he is so well paid. At the moment he is taking up his pen, Madame Franval enters : Saint-Remi is the first who perceives her, and he supposes that M. Dumont has laid a plot to ensnare him; he bursts into reproaches; he casts from him, with a noble kind of disdain, the proposition that he was about to accept. The widow, enchanted with the heroic disinterestedness of her intended, testifies her gratitude, in offering instantly to sign the marriage contract; but, in veneration of the grand moral principle, which causes vice to be punished, and virtue to rise triumphant, the author brings in Belman, who has found at the British Ambassa dor's the written proof that the Derfeuille of whom he has taken the name, and furnished himself with the papers of, has been dead six years, having expired in England. Madame Franval yields to this information. Dumont knows Belman again; and, affected by the service he has rendered the family, and his sincere repentance for his former errors, he gives him hopes of being soon united to his Adela. THEATRE DE LA PORTE ST. MARTIN.Azendaï; or, Necessaries and Superfluities. Azendaï is a basket-maker, and is murmuring over the little he gets by his humble employment, when his complaints are interrupted by two strangers: these are the Caliph, Haroun Al Raschid, accompanied by his Vizier, both in disguise; and whom Azendaï had, the night before, saved from imminent danger. Learning from his own lips the extent of his misery, they request him not to give way to despair. Azendai goes to some distance, and the Caliph drops a purse full of gold into one of the baskets of his preserver. A note is fastened to the purse, informing him that it is a present from one of the genii, who watches over his safety; and, moreover, assures him, that all his wishes shall be satisfied as soon as they are formed, provided he asks only for the necessaries of life: but what are they? who can fix their limits, or determine their extent? Azendai first wishes for a commodious dwelling, instead of his miserable but: he buys one, and fixes himself in it; but he is there alone. He remarks a beautiful female slave that has been exposed for sale at the bazar, and it is pretty evident that the possession of Zaide is requisite to his happiness; but how No. 114. Vol. XVIII. is he to procure her? The good genius takes care of that; and a pretty woman is not reckoned among the superfluities of life: Azendai i then soon put in possession of Zaide; but when a man has a wife that he idolizes, he must decorate her with jewels and valuable garments; present her with costly furniture, and purchase slaves to wait on her she must have a harem to reside in, and a garden, wherein to take the air. Just at this time, the palace of the Prince of Bassora is exposed to sale; and the good genii is willing yet to consider this among the necessa ries of life. Azendai becomes the Prince's successor; and he moves into the palace with Zaide, where he is received as lord and master by a swarm of lovely odaliskis. All the pleasures of life seem to have fixed their abode in this charm. ing spot. Zaide is enchanted with it; and one thing only vexes her: the prospect from the gardens is superb; but it is obstructed in one part by a fisherman's hut. This hut must be pulled down; but the fisherman is obstinate, and he will not give up the humble inheritance of his ancestors. This is an hankering after superfluities; and the patience of the genii is worn out. The interior of the palace is opened, and the Caliph is seen on his throne, surrounded by all the splendour of power and greatness. He reproaches Azendai for his unjust and immeasuringratitude: he declares his intention of taking able ambition, which begins to wear the tint of the fisherman under his protection; but touched with the penitence of Azendai, he recompences the service he received from him of saving his life, by leaving him, with all the benefits he has heaped upon him, a lesson of wisdom and moderation. The first act of this drama is the best; because the interest of the audience is ex cited by Azendaï's desires and their accomplishments: but the dénouement is too perceptible after this act. The piece, however, met with unbounded applause. The decorations of the palace and the bazar are beautiful; and the story is diversified by an old libertine Emir, who is well caricatured by Emile, the celebrated French comedian. us to be favourable to the weaker sex, we lieve." But, with such strong appearances in her disfavour, we know not how to blame the respectable members of the law, or of the jury who pronounced her guilty; if she really was so, her punishment, which has not gone to the letter of the law, was, certainly lenient. The high and estimable character before supported by Mrs. Scarborough is much in her favour: she displays good sense in her pamphlet, nor do we find her "bold and loquacious before her judges," but only seeming to feel that consciousness of her innocence, as rendered her sure of ac quittal. his province as a magistrate, when proofs seemed so strong against her, he could not avow himself the protector, perhaps, which he might have desired, had a shadow of innocence appeared, to have shewn himself. We yet cannot forbear saying, that we ourselves are strongly inclined to form the individual opinion of Mrs. Scarborough's innocence; but this we assert without in the least blaming her judges, and wish she would, on serious reflection, endeavour to harbour the same opinion. We think, however, that Stanwell's evidence ought not to have been heard; or when heard, not attended to: and we must say, that the attorney Mrs. Scarborough employed, seemed too careless of the interests of his client. We sincerely hope, that, in consequence of the known character Mrs. Scarborough so long enjoyed, of an excellent "wife, mother, mistress, and neighbour,” this unhappy event will be banished the remembrance of those who have been long and often gratified in their sojournment at the George Inn, which she had for many years kept with such infinite credit, and unblemished character, and that they will still continue their patronage; as the pecuniary There certainly appears to have been very great carelessness on the part of Mr. Preston's clerk, when about to send a note of twenty pounds by the post: his letter was unwafered till it was time to give it to the bellman-we by no means impeach the good man's honesty, for these men are generally the faithful and well-tried servants of the Post Office; but accidents may hap-losses she has sustained by her late impripen, especially when a letter is sealed with sonment, have been great and severe. a wet wafer, and a direction so blotted as hardly to be legible. It went through more hands, before it reached the unfortunate Mrs. Scarborough. Le Portefeuille Français ; ou Melange Anec dotique et Literaire. By L. Semouin. THE above work, published at Worcester and London, is dedicated to those who are fond of the French language: these, no doubt, in England, are many; but they are seldom sufficiently versed in it either to seize with avidity, or estimate with proper precision, every new French work that may appear. We, therefore, cannot augur any great success to French works published in England; for those who have real and thorough knowledge of any foreign But again, how happened it that the very note missing of twenty pounds, should be paid away by Mrs. Scarborough? She affirms, that a gentleman in a barouche, driving into the Bell Inn yard, an inn kept by her son, got it changed there, and received the change from her: this gentleman never came forward, though intreated by public advertisements so to do. She must not, then, feel her rancour excited by the conduct of those who tried her with such glaring appearances against her, how-language, will always prefer those publishever innocent she might really be, we know not how they could have acquitted her. Mrs. Scarborough expresses herself much hurt at the behaviour of the Rev. Dr. Maltby; but she must acknowledge, that his first behaviour was kind and soothing in the extreme: she should reflect that, in ed in the native country, especially now that such publications are so easily obtained from the continent. In periodical works, like the Portefeuille Français, care should particularly be taken of not making the nouvellettes too long; and the subject of anecdote is now so exhausted, that every thing the most new and Night, a descriptive poem, by M. E.Elliot, jun.: being an attempt to paint the scenery of night as connected with great and interesting events. recent should be collected together in such, in the Province of Calabria Ulteriore, in the a work of those in Le Portefeuille Fran- kingdom of Naples. çais, we have long ago published several. The poetry of the Portefeuille is good, and well chosen ; but some of our very best French scholars in England are known to declare, that they do not admire French poetry, and are blind to many of its most prominent beauties. Though we earnestly wish to see the talents of many of our indigent and unemployed authors, of true genius, occupied in this, our native land, in improving its literature, and adding to the treasures of its press, yet we by no means wish to exclude the industrious foreigner from disseminating knowledge also among us; we were unjust else; had it been our lot to sojourn in a foreign clime, we should feel ourselves happy to be employed, and especially to be classed amongst its literati. We, therefore, wish Mr. Semouin every success; though, at the same time, we scarce dare hope it; and trust he will pardon the hints we have suggested, as they were given only, from our knowledge of this country's taste, with a wish to promote his interest. WORKS IN THE PRESS. NEARLY ready for publication, in one volume, 18mo. A Fortnight's Visit; containing original, moral, and instructive tales for young gentlemen, with wood cuts, by Branston. There is now printing, in three volumes, a novel entitled The Mock Moralist; or, A Dressing for Special Dissenters. Nearly ready for publication, in one volume, 12mo. Prince Chilia; a satirical history of all nations in the world, after the manner of Dean Swift's Gulliver-by Tom Brown. Preparing for publication, The Iron Mask, a poem. By the anthor of the popular poem called The Recluse of the Py. renees. Miss Hutton is about to publish The Tour of Africa, containing a concise account of all the countries in that quarter of the globe, hitherto visited by Europeans; with the manners and customs of the inhabitants. Revenge Defeated and Self-Punished, a dramatic poem. MUSICAL REVIEW. A Refutation of Fallacies and Misrepresentations in a Pamphlet entitled “ An Exposition of the New System of Musical Education. By J. B. Logier. 8vo. Hunter, St. Paul's Church-yard. THE above well-written Refutation, by the inventor of the new system, carries with it much force of reasoning and truth : invention ought never to be confounded with innovation; and that a new and improved system of musical education is as requisite in that delightful science as in any other part of instruction, no one, surely, will be weak or prejudiced enough to deny. Man, with all his knowledge of the arts, is yet very far from a state of perfection in any: it behoves him, then, to employ his talents in continual search after improvement, in order to attain that wished-for end. If the committee of musical professors, as Mr. Logier declares, in his well-written and modest dedication, approved his plan, and exerted themselves in his favour, how can any one be so mad, we might almost say, to endeavour at a refutation of what such men, of known science, approve. The invention of the Chiroplast is as ingenious as useful; it gives ease, where formerly there was much labour, in enabling a person, at small trouble, to hold the hands well, when playing on the piano-forte, which is sometimes not sufficiently attended to: the invention of Mr. Logier has been approved of both by Cramer and Cle menti; and we must say, that we ever find men of real merit and science eager in their encouragement of what may add to the improvement of the art, be it what it will, in which they themselves excel: those who carp and cavil are seldom more than half perfect. Having given our opinion on this head, we shall now let Mr. Logier speak for him. Lieutenant Elmhirst is about to publish Occurrences during a Six Months' Residence \! self: guineas for communicating my mode of instruction to a professor, be answered, why not? I see no reason why any man should not charge what he thinks proper for his talent." ARRAIGNMENTS AGAINST MR. LOGIER. "I am first arraigned for having said, that the master is obliged to wade through many tedious hours before he can produce a proper disposition of the hand of the pupil, and that by means of the Chiroplast this labour is quickly surmounted' Now these gentlemen roundly deny there is any labour in this part of instruction, which, in the same breath, they admit to be one of the greatest importance to the beginner. Does not this savour of incongruity? and I appeal to the decision of every one who has ever been present at the early instruction of a scholar, whether this has not always been a serious difficulty, of which the master was ever complaining. I have made a most unbecoming insinuation too, it seems, by hinting that this defect is often slurred over by the master, for fear of losing a scholar by its rigid correction. Whence comes it then that so few who play on the piano-forte hold their hands well, since the difficulty of obviating it is so slight? Will not the master even give himself this trifling trouble to prevent it? Who can utter a more gross libel than this upon their professional brethren? I am further charged with making one of my chief objects, the depreciation of the motives and actions of all other teachers; but to this I give the downright and flat contradiction. The very principle on which they ground this assertion, involves a manifest absur NOTE ON SIR G. SMART'S EXAMINATION, &c. "When Sir G. Smart arrived in Dublin, I waited on him in company with Mr. Munro, and invited him to my academy." No, Sir," said he, "I cannot come. I am a man of candour, I know nothing about it, and I do not wish to be a party man.' .”—I replied, that not to come would be to make himself a party man, because it shewed an unwillingness to satisfy himself whether my enemies spoke falsely or not. I wished him to come and judge for himself, and he would then be at liberty to offer his opinion or not, as he thought proper. He said, that he had seen a pamphlet, in which it was reported, that I had asserted nobody knew how to teach but myself. I replied, that he had seen the work of an anonymous enemy, and 1 begged he would read my own syllabuses, and learn to the contrary. I accordingly sent them to him, but received no reply. After this first visit, I wrote to Mr. Webbe an account of the testy manner in which I had been received, and immediately had an answer from him, which spoke of the Knight in the following handsome terms: "I am inclined, in general, to think extremely well of Smart, and of his motives of action; and I can perfectly well make out, that, as his connections in London are very extensive and numerous, and that there are many, I have no doubt, who are, in a great measure, dependent upon him and his good word for their well-being, he might very reasonably feel fearful, as you say, of being convinced of the efficacy of the system, as it might hereafter interfere with a conscientious recommendation of the aforesaid friends and dependents. This opinion of Mr. Webbe's, in-dity; for it has been spread about, that I deduced me to renew my invitation to the Knight by a letter, on receipt of which he called at my house, and left his card, saying he would come || to my academy, but begged to be allowed to bring a friend with him. To this I replied, he might bring as many as he chose. He accordingly came with Mr. Drouet. I requested both these gentlemen to ask my pupils any questions they pleased; but they declined asking any.There were about thirty children in the room, most of whom executed something on the pianoforte, or in harmony; and since the committee have so often repeated that the four young ladies from Ireland have been trained for the purpose of exhibition, I beg to ask Sir George, if these thirty children were also trained for this purpose? After my pupils had gone through various modulations, and two classes had each harmonized an air, I asked Sir George what he thought of their performance? To which he replied, that he saw nothing in it but what an able professor might do. But, Sir, said I, you will recollect that this has not been done by professors, but by children; and to this point I wish to fix your attention, that by my mode of instruction I enable children to effect that which you say an able professor may do. When I informed Sir George that I charged an hundred nounce my fellow professors as guilty of gross imposition on the public, because they have been practising a mode of instruction different from mine. Now I pretend to something new in my mode of instruction, and what absurdity would there not be in my blaming men for not employing a method before it was invented? Really these gentlemen do not give me credit for that portion of common sense which, without much exertion of generosity, they might believe me to possess. "On the authority of Dr. Carnaby, I am charged with bringing forward a child at my examination, who, according to my own account, had been taught two years by an eminent professor, and at the expiration of that time bad been turned off as incurable For this act I am called an empiric, harbouring deep and dangerous designs against the profession. How these gentlemen strive to monster my nothings,' this passage sufficiently evinces. Now who would imagine that the whole circumstance, thus pompously set forth, amounted merely to this:-A young lady, whom her parents were very desirous of having instructed in music, was put un. der a master; but for two years the child was so disheartened by the first difficulties which the study presented, that she made no progress, and |