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bearded gentlemarime of his periodical Paris stops midway in Lenten mortifica

he had studied. popularity appears to tion, puts off sack-cloth and ashes, dons

Heidelberg, ' Evening after evening, three-pile and motley, and, during the mi ed as if slhouse has been filled with carême, dances and sings with the frantic The case applauded and cheered Mr. zest of a schoolboy's play during his fifteen lingsr - he echo. If strenuous endeavors minutes noon recess. But New York is chirpress, he certainly deserves all he more persistent in its abstinence. It was livi esined. His playing is more like not so of olden time; for those of us who th auscular working; and he earns his yet write ourselves young remember when :. by the sweat of his brow, as much as all innocent amusements, public or private, gintleman of the Anti-Know-Nothing were as openly enjoyed, even among our - rty who condescends to come over here High Church Gothamites, during Ler and get a living by filling a dirt cart. But (excepting Passion Week, perhaps) af the time has passed for criticism upon Mr. any other part of the year, sacred or ser. Forrest's acting. He has long since made With the advent of Gothic church-ar in his position and his fortune; and in the ture, however-real Gothic, wrc. msformer he is firmly fixed. His style is stone, which causes note-shavi cience well known, and can exercise no influence selling churchwardens to talk re and upon public taste; for he plays to those transepts, corbels and finia'

of the who will have such playing from some one, forty days which usher in ov

produced and others cannot be induced to go and Spring have attained a r

F. and the see him on any terms. Upon each characthe eyes of the Rev. Cr s of the Rev. Cre

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devoid of ter in which he has appeared, the Tribune the flock to whom he

without one has given its readers an elaborate criticism, curds and whey of a real

For the success generally very condemnatory and very ten-dom now goes th

repartee, gross- just, but in the articles upon Shakespeare's It is for this reason

ull-century given plays, displaying, with a fine appreciathe serried ranks

and intrigue, tion of the poet's thought, a lamentable Tlouse, which

n consigned to the ignorance of the materials out of which demy of Music

could be allowed to be built his dramas, and of the purpose measure vaca ur dou

Why will Mr. Wal- with which he produced them. In its spite of Steff

cm bring their unman- judgment of Mr. Forrest, the Tribune bas and Badial

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m the aff

Mr. Burton has brought out a play by ih lace, and velvet, and

lappets: but it is ducte

kes and lappets; but it is Mr. BoCRCICAULT, Janet Pride, in a manner hill to put real men and women which ought to give complete satisfaction

Anonymous wine clothes: the author has to the author. Janet Pride is a mild meloreg

That, by filling them with con- drama, the action of which is so much uppets. Mr. Wallack tries to broken that the author calls its first two e plays of their grossness and Acts, the Prologue. Janet Pride, although

and he succeeds pretty well; she gives the play its name, is but a secondis the nature of the material with ary character in it: the principal being

to deal, that in eliminating Richard Pride, her father. ness, he takes away all its little This play is entirely one of incident and ter, and in purifying its indecency situation. It has but one character, Pride tinguishes all its feeble wit, giving -remarkably well played by Mr. Burtonrforce, decent dullness instead of or at most two; the second being Bernard, lent smartness. Pray let us have done the old French watchmaker, wbich was a th this, Mr. Wallack. Give us plays that very bappy effort on the part of Mr. Moore. are kept the stage; do not waste your Janet Pride will add nothing to Mr. Bourstrength in attempting to lug back those cicault's reputation as a man of letters. that have been kicked off it. Or if you although it may bring him some jobs as a must “revive," let us have the Flying playwright. Thatchman

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VOL. V.-JUNE, 1855.—NO. XXX.

AMERICAN TRAVELERS..

THE Englishman is at once the most 1 rational and the most cosmopolitan of men. Wherever he goes, he takes his prejudices and his tea-pot with him; but he sees more, and tells his story of sight-seeing better, than the traveler of other nations. The same spirit and training that sent the six hundred, the Earl of Cardigan at their head,

"Into the jaws of death,

Into the mouth of hell," at Balaklava, is the spirit which has sent the solitary Englishman to penetrate the loneliest deserts, and to climb the loftiest mountains. In Switzerland, if your guide stimulates your ambition to cross an unfrequented and dangerous pass, he assures you that it can be done, for Mr. Bull, in the year of grace 1810, or in some other traditional year, went that very way, and Mrs. Bull could hardly be dissuaded from accompanying him. In the East, it is always an Englishman who lived for two or three years at Damascus, for the whim of the thing-and certainly it was an Englishwoman who made herself the greatest queen of the East since Cleopatra.

The traveler of twenty years since, who recalls the Guide Book of Mrs. Starke, or the curious reader, who to

day turns its pages, can easily estimate the advantage to the world of English travel. It is John Bull who has made traveling easy. It is John Bull who has taught the kitchen of Italy to reek with the fumes of bistecca, and the mouldy rooms of the Locanda to own the perfume of Bohea. It is John Bull who has set up Felix and rosbif in the very shadow of the Madeleine, and within scent of the Café de Paris. It is John Bull who has put Frenchmen upon high-trotting horses, and crowded the Bois de Boulogne with agonized equestrians, rising in the stirrups, and coming down hard at the wrong time. It is John Bull who awakens the venerable Roman echoes of the Campagna with the tally-ho of the huntsman, and the distant, flickering bay of hounds; and John Bull who rides steeple-chases over the old granary of the world. He has put clean sheets upon continental beds, and caused continental doors to shut, and windows to open. He has introduced carpets, and cold water. Wherever Mr. Bull has been, he has left a track of comfort, high prices, liberal swearing, intelligent observation, sullen endurance, and triumphant achievement. Twenty years ago, Mrs. Starke was the traveler's Vade Mecum. The pilgrim of poetry and death's head and cross-bones. The ship is the Flying Dutchman's Ship, the man is the Flying Dutchman, and the transparency means that Mr. Barnum has been getting up a Great Flying Dutchman-ic Revival in the Theatre-we beg his pardon, the Lecture Room of his Museum. We do not propose to criticise the Flying Dutchman,-either the picture or the play: we merely refer to the Great Revival as entitled to notice among the other Great Revivals of the day,--Mr. Wallack being the reviver in the others. We seriously believe that the Flying Dutchman is as good a play, as worthy of the careful attention of good actors, and generous stage appointments and costumes, as the majority of the comedies which Mr. Wallack revives. It seems incredible that a gentleman of experience and ability should devote his theatre and a good company to the performance of the emart, feeble, unnatural inanities produced by Congreve and Colley Cibber, and the tribe which followed them. Devoid of humor, devoid of character, without one touch of nature, dependent for the success which they once had upon repartee, gross ness and intrigue in a half-century given up to repartee, grossness and intrigue, these comedies have been consigned to the grave, where they should be allowed to lie and rot in peace. Why will Mr. Wallack dig them up and bring their unmannerly corses before the world! He does his best with them, we are happy to admit. He dresses them unexceptionably, and dazzles us with lace, and velvet, and brocade, perukes and lappets; but it is beyond his skill to put real men and women in all those fine clothes: the author has prevented that, by filling them with conventional puppets. Mr. Wallack tries to purge these plays of their grossness and indecency, and he succeeds pretty well; but such is the nature of the material with which he has to deal, that in eliminating its grossness, he takes away all its little character, and in purifying its indecency he extinguishes all its feeble wit, giving us, perforce, decent dullness instead of prurient smartness. Pray let us have done with this, Mr. Wallack. Give us plays that have kept the stage; do not waste your strength in attempting to lug back those that have been kicked off it. Or if you must “revive," let us bave the Flying Dutchman.

• Journey to Central Africa. By BAYARD TAYLOR. G. P. Putnam & Co.: New York. - The Lands of the Saracen, By BAYARD TAYLOR. G. P. Putnam & Co. : New York. Travels in Europe and the East. 2 vols By SANUEL IRENRUS PRIME. Tarper & Brothers: New York, Another Budget; or. Things arhich I Saue in the East. By JAXB ANTHOXY EAMES. Ticknor & Fields: Boston. Cosas de Espona: or. Going to Madrid ria Barcelona. Redfield: New York, Art, Scenery, and Philosophy in Europe, being fragments from the Portfolio of the late HORACE BINNEY WALLACE, ESQ., of Philadelphia. Herman looker: Philadelphia. Notes of a Theological Student. By JAM88 Masos HOPPIX D. Appleton & Co.: New York. Gan Eden: or, Pictures of Cuba. J.P. Jewett & Co.: Boston and Cincinnati.

VOL. V.-36

MR. FORREST has been playing at the Broadway Theatre one of his periodical engagements. His popularity appears to be undiminished. Evening after evening, the capacious house has been filled with people who applauded and cheered Mr. Forrest to the echo. If strenuous endeavors merit success, he certainly deserves all be has attained. His playing is more like hard muscular working; and he earns his bread by the sweat of his brow, as much as any gintleman of the Anti-Know-Nothing party who condescends to come over here and get a living by filling a dirt cart. But the time has passed for criticism upon Mr. Forrest's acting. He has long since made his position and his fortune; and in the former he is firmly fixed. His style is well known, and can exercise no influence upon public taste; for he plays to those who will have such playing from some one, and others cannot be induced to go and see him on any terms. Upon each character in which he has appeared, the Tribune has given its readers an elaborate criticism, generally very condemnatory and very just, but in the articles upon Shakespeare's plays, displaying, with a fine appreciation of the poet's thought, a lamentable ignorance of the materials out of which he built his dramas, and of the purpose with which he produced them. In its judgment of Mr. Forrest, the Tribune bas but reiterated decisions passed by men of taste, before that journal had an existence.

Mr. Burton has brought out a play by MR. BOURCICAULT, Janet Pride, in a manner which ought to give complete satisfaction to the author. Jane Pride is a mild melodrama, the action of which is so much broken that the author calls its first two Acts, the Prologue Janet Pride. although she gives the play its name, is but a secondary character in it: the principal being Richard Pride, her father.

This play is entirely one of incident and situation. It has but one character, Pride -remarkably well played by Mr. Burtonor at most two; the second being Bernard, the old French watchmaker, which was a very happy effort on the part of Mr. Moore. Janet Pride will add nothing to Mr. Bourcicault's reputation as a man of letters. although it may bring him some jobs as a playwright.

PUTNAM'S MONTHLY.

A Magazine of Literature, Science, and Art.

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THE Englishman is at once the most 1 rational and the most cosmopolitan of men. Wherever he goes, he takes his prejudices and his tea-pot with him; but he sees more, and tells his story of sight-seeing better, than the traveler of other nations. The same spirit and training that sent the six hundred, the Earl of Cardigan at their head,

"Into the jaws of death,

Into the mouth of hell," at Balaklava, is the spirit which has sent the solitary Englishman to penetrate the loneliest deserts, and to climb the loftiest mountains. In Switzerland, if your guide stimulates your ambition to cross an unfrequented and dangerous pass, he assures you that it can be done, for Mr. Bull, in the year of grace 1810, or in some other traditional year, went that very way, and Mrs. Bull could hardly be dissuaded from accompanying him. In the East, it is always an Englishman who lived for two or three years at Damascus, for the whim of the thing--and certainly it was an Englishwoman who made herself the greatest queen of the East since Cleopatra.

The traveler of twenty years since, who recalls the Guide Book of Mrs. Starke, or the curious reader, who to

day turns its pages, can easily estimate the advantage to the world of English travel. It is John Bull who has made traveling easy. It is John Bull who has taught the kitchen of Italy to reek with the fumes of biftecca, and the mouldy rooms of the Locanda to own the perfume of Bohea. It is John Bull who has set up Felix and rosbif in the very shadow of the Madeleine, and within scent of the Café de Paris. It is John Bull who has put Frenchmen upon high-trotting horses, and crowded the Bois de Boulogne with agonized equestrians, rising in the stirrups, and coming down hard at the wrong time. It is John Bull who awakens the venerable Roman echoes of the Campagna with the tally-ho of the huntsman, and the distant, flickering bay of hounds; and John Bull who rides steeple-chases over the old granary of the world. He has put clean sheets upon continental beds, and caused continental doors to shut, and windows to open. He has introduced carpets, and cold water. Wherever Mr. Bull has been, he has left a track of comfort, high prices, liberal swearing, intelligent observation, sullen endurance, and triumphant achievement. Twenty years ago, Mrs. Starke was the traveler's Vade Mecum. The pilgrim of poetry and beauty, going to Rome, to Naples, to Sicily, said Mrs. Starke, must bring with him all his furniture, all his linen, all his comestibles, all his pots, pans, and appurtenances; and several columns of that valuable book were devoted to an inventory of the simple necessities for a continental tour. The book was an exhortation to take up your house and travel, if you expected to be comfortable. Those were the days of couriers, and hiring huge traveling carriages in Paris; of chasseurs and brigands, and the delightful romance of Terracina. Irving's “Tales of a Traveler," so far as they treat of the incidents of traveling, belong to the Starke epoch of the grand tour.

• Journey to Central Africa. By BAYARD TAYLOR. G. P. Putnam & Co.: New York. - The Lands of the Saracen, By BATARD TAYLOR. G. P. Putnam & Co.: New York. Trarela in Europe and the East. 2 vols. By SAMUEL IREXXUS PRIME. Iarper & Brothers: New York, - Another Budget; or, Things schich I Saw in the East. By JANE ANTHONY EAMES. Ticknor & Fields: Boston, Casas de Eepona: or, Going to Madrid ria Barcelona. Redheld: New York Art, Scenery, and Philosophy in Europe, being fragments from the Portfolio of the late lloRACK BIXXEY WALLACE, ESQ., of Philadelphia. Herman Hooker: Philadelphia. Notre of a Theological Student. By JAMES MASON Horpix D. Appleton & Co.: New York. Gan Eden; or, Pictures of Cuba. J. P. Jewett & Co.: Boston and Cincinnati.

VOL. V.-36

But John Bull soon found it easier to make the continent supply him with clean sheets, than to take such a clumsy bundle of bed clothes with him; and all succeeding travelers are his debtors. He has warmed the bed for the rest of the world. On the other hand, he has carried extravagance everywhere, and the bad effects of a taciturn, if not surly nature. He has spoiled the carnival in Rome, and put steamers upon the Nile. He has reversed Napoleon's plan, and, instead of bringing all the world to Paris, he has carried England into all the world. His sobriquet upon the continent has been, for years, Milor—the affluent, haughty, domineering lord. The word, itself, is the best history of the net English impression upon the popular mind of Europe, He learns languages with difficulty, and sneers, with that profound stupidity of prejudice which is only possible in a nation that produces Squire Westerns, at a people

"Who call their mothers mères,

And all their daughters fillies." Have we not all seen that Milor, in St. Peter's, upon Easter; in Pompeii; on the Prater; in the Cascine ; on the Pyramids; on the desert; at the remotest Egyptian temples ; on the plain of Marathon; in the Norway fiords, with his double-soled walking shoes, and his gaiters, and his checked trowsers and waistcoat, and sporting jacket with large buttons, his mutton-chop whiskers, and rosy, moony face? Yet that very tenacity of checked breeches is the secret of half the comfort we enjoyed in going to those places, where we met this familiar figure. It is ludicrous when you encounter it in Brown, Jones, and Robin

son, for in them it is degenerate and unmeaning, but the thoughtful traveler contemplates a nobleman's breeches with curious interest.

For the philosophy of this marked English influence upon continenta llife is undoubtedly this, that the upper classes of England, who are more educated, and of a really finer quality than the upper classes of any other country, have united in themselves the natural desire of educated men to travel, the indefeasible national characteristic, strengthened by the pride of class, and unlimited means of gratifying every whim, and of securing foot-stoves at any cost and risk. A Frenchman has none of the Bedouin spirit. It was a French instinct in Napoleon to bring the characteristic spoils of every country to Paris, for the Frenchman has a secret scepticism of everything out of Paris, and cares for the “barbarian world” only when he can see specimens of it at home. Johnny Crapeau considers it only a proper homage to the capital of the earth, that all lands should send their products thither. Paris is France to him, but it is also the world. The bourgeois believes Leipsic is in Germany, and knows that the Pope lives at Rome; the greater pity for him! But are not Corneille and Racine the greatest of poets? is not Voltaire the king of philosophers? have we not all the illustrations du temps ? is not Rachel ours? is not France favored of all the muses and graces ? is not ours the social philosophy, the hope of the future? Will you step over to the Faubourg St. Germain, and be introduced to the society upon which all other human society is modeled ? will you have the most exquisite boots, shoes, dresses, pantalons, dinners, dances, demoiselles ? What more can a reasonable being desire ?

Several Frenchmen went to London during the Great Exhibition, and wrote accounts of their tours. There is no more amusing reading anywhere. England is a world as far from France as the spiritual from the material. Monsieur Crapeau speaks of Bull in a strain of incredulity, and with pettishness at the total want of mutual comprehension. We shall never forget a sunny day in Rouen, which was actually chilled and darkened by a Frenchman's account of a recent visit to London. Had it been to Lapland or Siberia, to some remote region not yet familiar to geography, and beyond human sympa

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