dry, it is not remarkable for attractions of style, or felicity of illustration.

A variety of the positions upon which the author insists, we should certainly feel bound to controvert, were we called on in the present notice to discuss in detail the various branches of his various subjects. Persuaded, that if the volume should reach any one who peruses this, it will be felt that justice has been administered in mercy, we dismiss our political economist with a sincere wish that his next volume may prove to be "metal more attractive."

A Concise System of Mathematics, in Theory and Practice. By Alexander Ingram.

This is, perhaps, taking every thing into the account, the best book of its kind and extent in our language- at least, we are not acquainted with a better. It contains every thing essential for the student of elementary mathematics, expressed most luminously, and with that proper medium of exposition, equally removed from verbose amplification and obscure brevity. The arrangement too of the subjects merits praise; and the tables annexed to the end are beautifully, and as far as we have been able to examine them, correctly printed. It is high, but hardly exaggerated praise, to say of this little manual, that it comprehends nearly as much mathematics, that is, as many useful mathematical facts, as the three volume Course of Dr. Hutton. It has our entire approbation.

Le Keepsake François.

"Le Keepsake François" is a brilliant companion for the "Souvenirs," "Friendship's Offerings," and "Forget-me-Nots," of England. We thank our elegant neighbours of the French capital for the courtesy with which they have ap plied to our language for the name, and to our artists for the greater part of the embellishments of their first Annual. In selecting the word "Keepsake," they pay a compliment to our firesides, where that expression is so intimate; and in soliciting our painters and engravers to add to the attractions of such writers as Cassimir Delavigne, Beranger, Chateaubriand, and Bernal, enhanced by some exquisite efforts of the French pencil, they pronounce a flattering encomium upon the eminence our countrymen have reached in those beautiful departments of the Arts. Of the literary merits of the French Keepsake, we must speak in terms of the highest commendation. Indeed, it is sufficient to mention the names of Delavigne, the author of that exquisite comedy, "L'Ecole des Viellards,"-of Beranger, the poet of love and liberty, the Moore of France,-of Chateaubriand, whose classical pen, had it produced nothing but "Attila," would have placed him in the first rank of European writers: it is sufficient to select these few names from the list of contributors to demonstrate the distinguished claims of the Keepsake upon the admirers of the French literature of the present day. But there is one name more which we cannot bring ourselves to omit. We are struck by a short, but elegant,

essay on "Des Impressions Superstitieuses," to which we see affixed the signature of Benjamin Constant. The melancholy event, that deprived France, not many days since, of the talents and virtues of that great man, gives an increased interest to any production of his pen. It is pleasing, also, to see that the profound statesman of the cabinet, and the vehement orator of the tribune, combined with these qualities, in which alone he has hitherto been known in England, that literary taste, which heightens while it adorns the reputation of the public character.

"Le Keepsake François" is dedicated, with the greatest propriety, to Marie Amélie, the amiable Queen of the French. There breathes through the whole work that fervency of virtuous feeling-that delicacy of sentiment-that refinement of thought -and, above all, that ardent but chaste spirit of liberty, which must render it particularly acceptable to a lady in every way qualified to be the Queen of France at the present illustrious epoch.

It is an additional honour to the English artists, whose works adorn the first Parisian Aunual, that they are thus united with the kindred talents of the French nation, in paying so elegant a tribute to a throne as admired in England as it is popular in France.

The Landscape Annual. By Thomas Roscoe. With illustrations from drawings by S. Prout, Esq. F.S.A. &c.

To this very beautiful and interesting work we have not space sufficient to do justice. Doubtless, however, the greater proportion of our readers are aware of its merits, and familiar with its contents; the illustrations, twenty-six in number, are from the pencil of Samuel Prout, and engraved by various artists: they are of a respectable, and some of a high character as works of art. It is to be objected, that so many scenes in Venice, and so few in other parts of Italy have been given. The letter-press descriptions are written with taste and ability.

The Remembrance. Edited by Thomas Roscoe.

Another branch of the fertile family of Annuals ; and, although the last born, not the least entitled to public favour. The literature is above mediocrity, and the embellishments, although very unequal, upon a par with those of the greater number of its competitors.

The Talisman. Edited by Mrs. A. A. Watts.

A volume of " articles in prose and verse," extracted chiefly from the periodical publications of the day, with the embellishments of the French Keepsake scattered through its pages. We cannot say much in its favour, and we are unwilling to condemn a publication "got up" in evident haste, and with little time for preparation. It is, certainly, far too high in price, considering that little or no expense was incurred to form its embellishments, or to obtain literary assistance.

DRURY-LANE THEATRE.

Miss Huddart, a young lady who has been greatly admired and applauded in the country, has appeared at this theatre, in Belvidera, Constance, and Alicia, and has not succeeded to the extent which her previous reputation justified her in anticipating-a result which has too often attended a similar trial, and dissipated full many a glorious dream. We are very sorry for such disappointments, which imply blame in no one, and which yet produce much misery in sanguine and delicate natures. In this case, we can see exactly how it happened that the lady succeeded in the country greatly, and in London but moderately; and yet we are afraid the rural critics will not do her justice, on the venire de novo which has been awarded on the town's judgment in error. The truth is, that Miss Huddart has the qualification of a great provincial actress, and is, therefore, unfit for any place worthy her ambition, or her powers, on the London boards. She is a very handsome girl, and, so far, gifted by Nature either for town or country; but her "full and heightened style" marks her out the favourite of rustics, who, being unsophisticated, lavish their admiration on the artificial and pompous. She has a notion of tragic acting as something akin to Nature, but vastly above it; her stage-mirror is a magnifying-glass of formidable power; so she falls in love "like any princess;" launches her images as if they were so many ships of the line; takes the obvious symbol of every feeling, and exaggerates it to the utmost extent of her physical capacity, which is not small. Your real provincial critic, who thinks after the fashion of Rymer, has only one idea of tragic acting-in his wisest censure, it consists in taking the simple notion of fondness, rage, indignation, or any other emotion, and carrying its expression to the utmost excess on this side of the ridiculous, without any delicate shades or intellectual marking-and we are not sure that he is altogether wrong. An actor who seeks, by an infinite variety of tone, to give a running commentary on the author, raises perpetual questions, which is beside the main purpose of playing, while no one can misunderstand a rant fit for the gods. The less discrimination, perchance the more wonder-the simpler the feeling pourtrayed, the more universal the sympathy: it is enough for the enjoyment of tragedy to know that the heroine is fond, or indignant, or sad, as the general tenor of the scene requires

Ophelia rages; poor Monimia moaǹs;

And Belvidera pours her soul in love;" and if the rage be wild enough, and the

moan be deep enough, and the love be earnest enough, what more is wanted? Now, in these respects, Miss Huddart is all that can be desired; she is very loud, and very loving, and very stately, and superlatively sarcastic, and thus fills up the imagination of Bath and Dublin, and only fails there when she is too good for her admirers. Why will a lady who might give and receive such entire satisfaction, come to London to learn all that she is not? Tragedians, men or women, who have been most admired in the country, have failed here; while those who have burst into popularity in London, were there only known to the discerning few. Miss O'Neil was thought tame and prosaic at Dublin, while Miss Walstein "towered above her sex;" Mr. Kean was only cherished for his versatility at Exeter, but Mr. Vandenhoff swept proudly by the good people of Liverpool and we all know how judgment was reversed in London. Miss O'Neil was only Mrs. Beverley; but any one could see that Miss Walstein was an actress! Whatever may be the respective merits of the provincial and metropolitan taste, which we do not presume to decide, it is a sad thing when their difference crushes a generous aspiration, especially of a beautiful woman. If Miss Huddart had gone on, gathering applause at Dublin or Liverpool, she would have enjoyed all she won, and the glory of success in London would have still hovered over her prospects. Now, she may yet be hailed by her old friends, and complain with them of our injustice; but we are afraid the enchantment is dissolved, and the splendours of a London triumph will haunt her fancy no more!

This has been a great month for Mr. Macready; for, by the force of his own genius, he has been, step by step, overcoming the reluctant prejudices of the critics, and even compelling the acknowledgment, out of the house, of powers which have always been felt within it. He has played Pierre, King John, Hastings, and the Stranger; and last, and finest of all, Werner, in Lord Byron's play, adapted by himself to the stage. His Pierre was occasionally too familiar, and now and then too loud; but it had beauties of the highest order, of which we chiefly remember his passionate taunt of the gang of conspirators (a set worthy of Cato-street), and his silent reproach to Jaffier by holding up his manacled hands, and looking upon the poor traitor with steadfast sorrow. In King John, there is a want of the amenity with which Kemble reconciled the weak and odious monarch to the nature which his actions outraged and his weakness degraded; and some of the more declama

art.

tory speeches were given with a hurry which scarcely permitted them to be understood; but his scene where he suggests to Hubert the murder of Arthur, and that of his own death, were most masterly-the last, as a representation of death by poison, true, forcible, and terrific, yet without any thing to disgust, is an extraordinary triumph of His Hastings is only striking in one scene that where he is suddenly doomed to die, and, in the midst of the strange perplexity of his fate, utters forgiveness to his betrayer; but, in this, his horror and amazement were most naturally and powerfully expressed, and his words of consolation fell on the ear in tones which cannot pass away. But of his old parts, none has been so perfect as his Stranger, which, as he now plays it, is an eloquent illustration of Rousseau's doctrine, that a philanthropist and a misanthrope are the same thing; every look and tone is that of a man who fancies he hates mankind, because his heart is overflowing with love which cannot be satisfied. In this play, Miss Phillips, whom we have too rarely seen of late, played Mrs. Haller very beautifully, and almost charmed us to excuse the great sin of that exemplary penitent, and lady-like housekeeper, which she unblushingly confesses, of giving away the Count's oldest hock to poor women in their sicknesses, when, as Mr. Solomon justly ob"" common Rhenish would have answered the purpose just as well!"

serves,

Lord Byron's Werner," which, from mere aristocratic self-will and noble perversity, he was pleased to pronounce unfit for the stage, has been produced, with slight additions and large curtailments judiciously made, and has been entirely successful. If unfit for representation, it is fit for nothing else; for the characters are mere outlines shadowed from the story, and the language is meagre and prosaic. But the situations have interest; there are opportunities by which the actors are enabled to profit; and Werner, as Mr. Macready has breathed into him the warmth of affection, is a being capable of exciting the most earnest sympathy. As represented, he is a man, proud, voluptuous, and, above all, weak-craving after the return of his fatherly love with more anxiety from his sense of inability to repose on his own character and resources, and vainly lavishing his fondness upon a son whose stern, simple, unrelenting, nature repels all his advances with disdain. There is slender hint of this conception in the text; but it is made out by the actor, so that it must stand distinct and alone in the memories of all who may see it. Ulric, on the other hand, is an impersonation of mere will; indifferent to means and feelings, rather than inclined to evil; and "severe in youthful beauty," retaining a certain air of

innocence, as if the needful crime once committed, passed away and left no trace behind it. This part, far easier of course than that of Werner, was excellently represented by Wallack; and, although the daring youth provoked us by his obstinate rejection of his father's expressions of regard, we did not like to see him at last seized by officers of justice, in execution of the doom pronounced upon him by the pious licenser. Lord Byron leaves him to march off free as air to the mountains; and Mr. Macready would have left him to renew his atrocities behind the scenes; but Mr. Colman was not to be satisfied with such imperfect justice, and religiously ordered him to the gallows. Mr. Cooper's Gabor, the sturdy Hungarian, is one of his most weighty and striking performances, and heightens the effect of the best scenes. The ladies, Mrs. Faucit and Miss Mordaunt, had little to say or do, but did that little well; and the play had every advantage of arrangement and decoration, and uniformly good acting.

Two little afterpieces have been successfully produced here, "The Jenkinses," and a King's Fireside;" the first a pleasant picture of domestic misery in low life; and the last, a representation of domestic happiness in high life: the old story of Henry the Fourth of France being caught by the English ambassador racing round his library with one of his children on his back, with some needful additions, to introduce the Dauphin wise and magnanimous beyond his years. There is not much in it, except the jest of a little prince and princess, formally announced by their high-sounding titles, and then strutting in with most ludicrous and legitimate pomposity. It reminded us of that prettiest scene in the prettiest of pantomimes, where a Lilliputian king and queen come out of a twelfth cake, and dance the prettiest minuet in the world!

COVENT GARDEN THEATRE.

Although we detest the Fair Penitent," as all good critics and good Christians should, we think Miss Kemble's Calista has given more satisfactory assurance of her possessing the highest tragic powers than any character she had previously acted. There is in it a grander indignation, a loftier bearing, a more self-sustained dignity, than we have before observed; she moved and looked more like Mrs. Siddons than we have yet seen her look or move; and there was the same nobleness of style which distinguished her aunt from all other actresses. In screams, sobs, and hysterics, there is little distinction between her and several other aspirants for the station which she fills; amidst these, indeed, she strews the lighter graces of gentlewomanly manner and feeling; but it is în

the haughty composure, the self-collecting and self-asserting power, which vindicates a superiority to circumstances, and sometimes even to passion itself, that her true superiority is manifest; and, unpleasing as the part of Calista is, it affords more scope for this developement than the more amiable and lovely heroines, whose sufferings and virtues she had before pourtrayed. In her next part-that of Inez de Castro, in Miss Mitford's tragedy,- she will have ample opportunities of putting forth her noblest powers and happiest fascinations, and will no doubt avail herself of them to achieve her first triumph in contemporaneous tragedy.

The announcement of a new comedy, in five acts, under the title of "The Chancery Suit," drew but a thin house; because, we suppose, in the like cases, the word of promise has so often been kept to the ear and broken to the hope, that the words "new comedy" repel. In the present instance, we believe-although the drama is not all we look for in a comedy-that the original repugnance has been fairly overcome, and that the piece promises to have a run. Its acts are miscellaneous, and have much matter in them, if little art; there are palpable hits, and one charming miss at the least; a little sentiment, no prosing, and a great deal of Power. This actor, if not the richest, is, to our tastes, the most agreeable of stage Irishmen; he does not surfeit us with a musical brogue, as Johnston did, but buzzes about the verge of vulgarity, and skims the surface of impudence with a light wing, and a decent consideration for fastidious nerves. In this play, he figures as libeller and duellist extraordinary-a compound very disagreeable in theory, but which he so craftily

qualifies, so sweetens by good-humour and good jokes, that Mr. Murphy O'Doggrelly is, in his representation, the pleasantest gentleman of the press who ever " had a duty to perform." Mr. Warde is a care-worn, law-worn barrister, who has left Westminster Hall, after thirty years' study and practice, to search for the playmate of his youth, who had been his rival in love and he plays the lawyer very sensibly, and the brother very touchingly. Mr. Bartley, as the brother, all excitement and depression, is natural and amusing; worthy to be loved and laughed at, and he is loved and laughed at accordingly. Miss Ellen Tree is a ward in Chancery, for whom any youth would bid defiance to Lord Brougham; Mrs. Gibbs, an ancient card-player, whose astonishing run of luck causes an actual insurrection in the village coterie; and Mr. Meadows, "a most respectable solicitor," who does not stick at trifles. The piece has been decidedly getting up; and though it may not have that absolute immortality on earth, which belongs to the subject of its title, it may yet live in "The Tatler's" golden records many evenings more.

A new singer, Miss Inverarity, has made the most brilliant debut since that of Miss Paton-opening, with a just confidence, in the difficult part of Cinderella, and splendidly triumphing in its finale. We do not profess to criticise her in her art; but we believe she is worthy of the admiration she excites, and are sure that she is a very lovely and engaging girl. May she receive as much applause as her predecessor in the part from the public, and never, like her, have occasion to feel its caprice, or appeal to its mercy!

Performances of the pupils of the Royal Academy. During the month of December the pupils of the Royal Academy of music continued their operatic performances at the concert-room of the King's Theatre. Mozart's "Così fan' tutte," which they had played before, was repeated with indifferent success; and on Saturday, the 10th of December, they produced, for the first time, his "Nozze di Figaro," in a manner highly creditable to two or three of the parties, but, as a whole, far from being perfect, or sufficiently satisfactory for a public exhibition.

Miss Childe, as Susanna, and Mr. Seguin, as Figaro, met with great and wellmerited applause. The former begins to be conscious and confident in her powers; we perceived, with pleasure, those occasional gleams of inspiration and enthusiasm which proclaim innate musical feeling, and raise the individual above the mere mechanical

execution of his part. Miss Childe was not quite playful and arch enough for the knowing and intriguing chambermaid; and, in her vocal efforts, she was frequently too forcible. The neatness and delicacy of Madame de Begnis and Madame Caradori Allan may be recommended as the best models for her imitation in this respect.

Mr. Seguin's Figaro gave us very great pleasure, and the whole audience appeared to share in our satisfaction. We were prepared to listen to his fine voice and to witness the progress he had made in his vocal studies; but the manner in which Mr. Seguin acted the part of the vivacious and shrewd barber took us by surprise. He sustained the whole of this arduous part with much comic, yet chaste, humour, and great scenic freedom of action. He reminded us more than once of Signor de Begnis.

Mr. Spagnoletti junior's exertions, as

Count Almaviva, were praiseworthy; but the part did not tell: notwithstanding the transpositions occasionally resorted to, it proved too low for his voice; and, besides, there was a want of dignity and of the tokens of the tender passion.

There were two or three new debuts in this opera-Miss Williams as the Countess, and Miss Dorrell as Marcellina. The former of these young ladies probably suffered under an indisposition, the augmentation of which has since prevented the repetition of the opera; it would, therefore, be unfair to pronounce on her qualifications from a first essay under such disadvantages. The impression Miss Williams made was decidedly favourable; the voice is a good and clear soprano, to C in alt., and it has been cultivated with care and taste. When we hear Miss Williams again, we shall be able to judge whether her want of animation was the effect of circumstances.

Miss Dorrell is already known to the public as one of our most accomplished female performers on the piano-forte, and the little she had to do as Marcellina was sufficient to show her to be a good musician. The part is at all times an ungrateful and awkward one, and the way in which the legitimate costume from the wardrobe below had been reduced to lesser dimensions, made any thing but amends for the disadvantages inherent in the part itself.

None of the ladies of the Academy, we suppose, could be prevailed upon to play the page Cherubino; and so, of all things, a Master Bennett was put forth. The march of intellect is truly wonderful. The lad, the child we may say, went most steadily through his amorous wooings and intriguings; and the audience felt so charmed with the exhibition that an encore was insisted on. In

this general satisfaction we cannot say we participated; it may be we were somewhat over-fastidious on the occasion, especially as the music was primarily to be attended to, and not the text in a foreign tongue.

The representatives of Basilio and Don Bartolo took laudable pains to render their parts prominent; but the effect did not altogether correspond with the effort. The fine aria, La Vendetta,' was scarcely to be recognized. Barberina was also very so-so. Upon the whole, if, as Mr. Logier used to say of his scholars, we are to judge of the tree from its fruit, the institution, though tolerably successful in producing promising instrumentalists, has not been very fortunate in the vocal department. Of the numerous pupils trained during so many years, there are but three or four, at most, who appear at all likely to attain an eminent rank as singers. We are not sufficiently acquainted with the organization of the Academy, and its mode of tuition, to attribute this result to

any defect in the system of instruction. Indeed, when we consider the talents and zeal of some of the masters that are, or have been employed-such as Liverati, Coccia, Crivelli, and others, we must look elsewhere for the cause. We are inclined to think, after all, the tree is an exotic which is reared with difficulty in our clime. The dense fogs, the nipping frosts, the raw blasts, which at this very time seem to wage war with each other for our destruction, are alone sufficient to shake the most patriotic confidence in our vocal aptitudes. But it is, probably, not the atmosphere and climate alone which operate disadvantageously in the training of singers. There seems to be a something in the intellectual frame of the inmates of these latitudes which is less susceptible of the Promethean spark of musical feeling, of nerve and enthusiasm, than the organization of the more sensitive and genial children of southern regions. We have no lack of soft and sweet voices; indeed, many are of too honied and languid a tenderness : it is fire, energy, and pathos, that are rarely found indigenous with us, and which, unfortunately, can but little be imparted by any instruction.

MUSICAL PUBLICATIONS.

The Musical Forget-me-Not, for 1831, edited by Thomas Mackinlay.

This Musical Annual claims our favourable no

tice in every respect. It is brought out with great typographical elegance, and embellished by two drawings on stone, of very first-rate execution; the greater part of the texts to the songs is above the common order; and two or three, which we forbear pointing out to avoid comparisons, are of a very superior stamp. Among the contributors in this department, will be found the names of Miss Mitford, Mrs. C. B. Wilson, Mr. Planche, Mr. Th. H. Bayley, and other acknowledged tenants of the British Parnassus.

In the musical department, the publisher's choice of composers has been no less successful. The names of Messrs. Addison, T. Cooke, J. B. Cramer, J. Barnett, H. Herz, Bishop, Moscheles, &c. sufficiently bear out this assertion. Without entering upon an extended analysis of all the lyric compositions in the volume, we content ourselves with cursorily drawing the reader's attention to the following specimens:

to

"The Wedding Ring," composed by Mr. Addison, presents a gracefully flowing melody, of regular plan, well supported by an effective accompaniment. Mr. T. Cooke's "I'll come thee," while it offers the same features of merit, particularly gains upon the ear by its varied and select train of ideas. "The Lady and the Pil grim," written and composed by Mrs. Cornwell Baron Wilson, has a waltz motivo, of no particular originality, but lively and pleasing, and suitable to the import of the text. Mr. Solis's song, "There is a tide," claims special favour, on account of the good musical feeling which pervades its pathetic melody, and the effective ac