chateau, there a village; a cheerful cottage, a wild chalet, a country house, a villa, sparkling cascades, small pieces of delicious scenery enlivened ever by the busy habitations of men; lofty and rugged hills, with venerable pine-groves clinging to their rapid slopes; little spires peeping up over the rustic hamlet of its equally diminutive congregation: such are the features which are caught in at a glance on the free banks of Leman's lake, where liberty, law, and a paternal government smile on the labours of husbandman and artizan. THE WOMEN OF ISRAEL. By Grace Aguilar, author of "The Spirit of Juadaism, &c." No. I. Price One Shilling. (Wertheimer, Finsbury Circus.)-To illustrate by biographical sketches, and develop by no weak analysis, the characters of distinguished Hebrew women, form the interesting task, of which the first monthly part has recently appeared. Miss Aguilar proposes dividing her history into seven periods, commencing with the wives of the Patriarchs, and ending with the women of Israel of the present day. Accordingly she begins at the very beginning, the first chapter being entitled "Eve;" and on this text, with the scanty yet all-sufficient outlines of holy writ, does the authoress find scope for many pages of beautiful writing, inculcating woman's duties, painting the lights and shadows of her character, showing her influence, and exhorting her to the perform-grandeur of some deep ravine; an isolated chateau ances of many of the Christian virtues, in a style that must make the work suitable and improving reading to the liberal-minded of every creed. FRANCOIS DE BONNIVARD; OR, THE PRISONER OF CHILLON. An Historical Romance of the Sixteenth Century. We had only time in our last merely to allude to this promised work, just then commencing in the columns of the Brighton Guardian. We can now say that as it progresses, the interest of the work, and the powerful picture like painting of the characters, fully bear out our high expectations. The beginning of the sixteenth century was the dawn of a most eventful era-the advent of civil and religious liberty; and Geneva, the locale of the story, contained within itself the seeds of the mightiest and most momentous events. With such elements of power and interest, and with so romantic and already immortalized a hero as Bonnivard, we feel confident that this production will take a high place among works of its class. We must make room for a very graphic description: "The lake of Geneva, which, in addition to its host of political, historical, and literary associations, disputes even with that of Constance the pre-eminence in magnificent scenery and chaste grandeur, has already decreased in width between Nyon and the opposite bank of Savoy, and been shorn of its fair proportions, though the view from either side be still gorgeously picturesque. On the side of Switzerland rise terraced meadows covered with mulberry and chesnut trees in rich profusion, and gradually increasing gigantic steps, until, reaching to the foot of the Jura, they merge into the mountains, some of which, like that of Dole, the loftiest in the range, are but an hour's walk from Nyon, hanging as it were over the waters, and casting at times their deep shadow on the lake. In this, different from the other mountains of Switzerland, the Jura is clothed from base to summit with dark forests of the pinetree; here jutting out on to the very edge of awful precipices, and in other instances vanishing up dismal gorges, or beetling at the top of serrated and precipitous ridges. Green pasture and corn fields, bushy copses, shady groves; here an ancient "Savoy, where despotism sways unchecked, presents to the view a series of naked hills and almost barren plains, beetling cliffs, overhanging and green promontories protruding far into the lake; a few scattered habitations and mean villages, solitary and lonely, amid the wild and savage frowning from its rocky mount; a dark ridge of stunted pine: such are the features opposed to the more smiling tableau presented by the garden and granary of Switzerland on the opposite side; and then behind-the range of hills near the lake sinking by their side into utter insignificance-rise the chaos of the Alps, white with eternal snow; and high towering far above them all, the pinnacle of Mont Blanc. Up the lake is the narrow gut of the Valais, whence rushes the Rhone; in fact, whichever way the glance is turned, it rests on scenery the most sublime and magnificent the eye hath seen or the heart of man imagined. One morning in May, 1526, however, whatever its general splendour, Leman lake presented to those individuals whom we are about to introduce to our readers a very unfavourable aspect. A stiff south-east breeze blew over its waters, rain fell, not in torrents-in which case the wind would soon have moderated-but with a steady, drizzling perseverance, and amid a thick damp fog, which shut out all observation at a less distance than a hundred yards. Above, a dark, murky sky, undiversified by ordinary clouds, hung like a canopy over the muddy looking waters, which, beat down by the steady rain, were not swelled into waves of any very great magnitude. A more circumscribed horizon was perhaps scarcely ever presented in the open air than by the lake at this moment, all being dismal, bleak, and heavy. A funeral atmosphere weighed upon the mind, and under its pestilent influence the very buoyancy and elasticity of youth of human beings refused to take their wonted were overcome, and the spirits of the most joyous flights. Nothing indeed more wretched, more miserable, than that morning could be conceived; the wind was cold, the rain penetrated through every aperture, and soaked through every particle of clothing, while the fog was intense in its piercing power and effects. In that wind, in that rain, in that fog, two men, in one of the small boats still so common on the lake, with tall masts and waters, as if eager to escape from the physical enormous sprit sails, were dashing over the troubled miseries of their position." ECHOES OF MIND. By C. Wharton Mann and Charles H. Hitchings. No. 1. (Mitchell)We consider this a very spirited undertaking which, whether it meet with encouragement or not, will have the merit of deserving it. The authors say in their preface, "At irregular and indefinite intervals, this present work will be followed by others, differing in the nature of their contents. Sometimes we shall offer a play, sometimes a poem, and possibly, at some distant period, a collection of essays." Thus will reverberate the "echoes" of two minds of no ordinary stamp; and though we believe it is the fashion to consider poetry-yes, reader, heart-stirring poetry, such as thirty years ago would have won fame and gold-as not worth paper and print; we have a strong hope that this unpretending publication will meet with numerous readers. We rejoice that it is published at the low price of one shilling, for it is among the mass that poets must look for appreciation and encouragement. This first number contains eleven poems, all really and truly deserving the name; although, for the most part, they are too long to extract entire. We will choose nearly the shortest : "HAPPY THINGS. "All who joy would win, Must share it. Happiness was born a twin.'BYRON. "The bounding brook's a happy thing, as on its way it goes Through silent glens and leafy woods how merrily it flows! The flowers upon its banks that grow are lovely to behold, And fish upon its surface lie of silver and of gold. And, brightly as it runneth on, how merrily it breaks The silence of the lone wood, with the melody it makes! While to the music, as it floats, the rising lark doth sing Oh! who can doubt the bounding brook's a happy,` happy thing? "The summer cloud's a happy thing, as merrily on high It wanders on in beauty through the bright blue summer sky: It is the last of happy things on which the lingering snn Pours out his purple splendour, when the weary day is done. It is the speechless messenger that travels from afar: To bear love's pure and holy thoughts, it wends from star to star. And on it sails through pathless space on free and chainless wing. Oh! who can doubt the summer cloud's a happy, happy thing? "But oh! that bounding brook doth shed all silently its showers Of pure and sweet and cooling drops upon its neighbour flowers. And oh! that summer cloud on high doth watch them when they fade, And pause upon his merry way to gather to a shade; For all things in this world of ours-the lovely and the fair, That would be bright and happy things-that happiness must share. The heart that still o'er all around its happiness doth Aling Oh! never doubt that heart must be a happy, happy thing. "C. H. H." And a few lines now from "The Spirit of the Ice," to which we find the initials, "C. W. M.": "Why doth the maiden in terror start? The moonbeams still on the ocean play, But the white waves seem in their path to stay; The wave was swelling, but now it is still, Just now were dancing all about The bright-eyed spirits of the sea, Gliding gracefully in and out To the sound of the mermaid's melody; But now in terror they fly from the might Of the Spirit that cometh in this sad light. "The Spirit is coming, the Spirit of dread,His pathway is on the ocean; The waters have frozen beneath his tread, He comes on the path where the pale moonbeam That his hand doth hold Is a human bone, that for years hath laid, Grown white beneath the salt waves deep." THE MUSICAL EXAMINER. (Wessel and Staplemusical events, continues to prove itself as admiraton.)-This cheap weekly record of music and bly conducted as we some time ago declared it to be. In fact, it is, beyond question, the most informing as well as the most interesting of the musical journals. LITERARY ANNOUNCEMENT.-We understand that Mr. Mortimer has for early publication a new novel, from the pen of Percy B. St. John, the scene of which is, we believe, laid in the present day. AMUSEMENTS OF THE MONTH. jealous young guardian. The damsels, indignant THE ITALIAN OPERA. The most important feature in the last month's arrangements has been the first appearance in England of Signor Moriani, the celebrated tenor. He made his debut in Edgardo, in Donizetti's "Lucia de Lammermoor," and rarely has success been more deserved or more complete. In fact, it is scarcely possible to speak of him (truthfully) as actor or singer in terms which, to those who have not seen or heard him, may not appear those of exaggeration. Ilis voice is of extraordinary compass, and the purest quality. His style is quite distinctive from the Rubini school, and is, in our judgment, infinitely superior; being simple and natural, he embellishes but little, and rarely has recourse to the art (to us disagreeable) of falsetto to astonish his hearers. His acting is perfection, with a passionate earnestness and intensity in it which rouses even the most phlegmatic of his audience into attention, and excites the more sensitive to a pitch of enthusiasm. He was received with deafening cheers, and called, on the occasion to which we refer, four times before the curtain, to receive the appropriate homage due to his wonderful powers. On the 11th ultimo, Donizetti's opera of "Anna Bolena" was revived, for the purpose of affording Moriani the opportunity of sustaining the character of Percy, and again contrasting himself with Rubini. There is not so much scope for passionate acting here as in the Edgardo, but he sang the music deliciously; Grisi and Lablache sustaining their accustomed parts with even more than their usual power. "Lucrezia Borgia" was to have heen played on the 18th, when Moriani would have appeared as Gennaro. Severe illness, how ever, we regret to say, prevented his doing so, and the disappointed audience found the following notice at the top of the bills: "It is with great pain that Signor Moriani is compelled respectfully to announce to the nobility, his friends, and the public, that a severe catarrh and hoarseness, under which he is suffering, has increased to such an extent, as to render it impossible for him to sing this evening, and, instead of the opera of Lucrezia Borgia,' will be presented Donizetti's celebrated opera Don Pasquale.' It is but fair to add that "Don Pasquale," supported by Grisi, Lablachie, Mario, and Fornasari, charmed as much as ever, and was certainly calculated to make the pit forget its grievance. Cerito, St. Leon, and Ferdinand appeared in the ballet. HAYMARKET. "The Milliner's Holiday" is the novelty of the month, and a very successful and bustling little farce it is. Mrs. Humby is the leader of a party of young milliners who go out on a pleasure expedition, in the neighbourbood of London, and fall in with a former sister of the craft, now an heiress, guarded by what Alfred de Musset would call un dragon jaune et bleu; in other words, a at the state of the case, determine to storm the house. Buckstone, as a London cockney architect, here enters, in love it seems with the fair chatelaine of Peckham, and by his inimitable personation of the character, induces a very great amount of applause; the milliners take him for the guardian of their former friend, and indignant at his tyranny, scale the wall; to the top of which he has been driven by fear of a huge Cerberus-like mastiff, which opposes his clandestine entrance into the mansion. Other incidents follow, and the result of the whole is an active, rapid, and successful farce; which will, doubtless, run during a very considerable period. The other entertainments have been characterized by their usual variety and excellence. Early in the month, the proceeds of one night, after paying expenses, &c., were devoted to increase the funds destined for the support of the Provident Institution of General Post-Office sub-sorters and letter-carriers. Our own opinion is that such important servants of the government and of the public ought to be placed beyond the need of so-called charitable assistance. However, better receive it than want it; and we were glad to hear the house was crowded. The prize-comedy, a new farce, and the Polka, with the additional attraction of John Parry to sing Albert Smith's "Fair Rosamond," formed a capital bill of fare. SURREY. admirable success. The opera company are playing here with Miss Romer and Leffler are amongst them. Of the former it is superfluous to speak, since so established a favourite requires not voice is melody itself, and no English vocalist sura word of praise from us or any other critic; her D. W. King, who has taken the place of Harrison, passes her in sweetness, taste, or elegance. Mr. has at once placed himself in a commanding position. Indeed we cannot regret the substitution which has given us the pleasure of welcoming to the London boards deserved eminence in his profession. His personaa singer who must attain tion of Elvino was admirable in every sense of the word, and "So gently o'er me stealing" was never better executed than by this rising and already deservedly popular artiste. LYCEUM. We hardly know whether to be sorry or glad that "Martin Chuzzlewit," one of the most subtle and delicately-finished of all the stories of "Boz," should have been dramatised. So much must necessarily be omitted, warped, or changed, in such undertakings, that in due proportion to the original genius of the novelist, who has chosen narrative for the vehicle of his ideas, must we be reminded "with a difference," of dear clever Punch's "Shakspere a little compressed." However we believe Mr. Sterling, who has used the scissors and paste for the occasion, has done the thing as well as it could be done; and the actors all sustain their parts very well. Pecksniff and Pinch have, of course, as far as appearance goes, stepped out of the engravings; but the latter, however poetical, is not a dramatic character. The scenes in America are among those omitted. The prologue, written by Albert Smith, was spoken by Mrs. Keeley. It was as follows: "Good Mr. Pickwick first, with smiling face, Bob Cratchet, on raised wages, spruce and trim, Leads forward, with his crutch, poor Tiny Tim." "Everybody" knows Mr. Dickens is now in Italy; he is occupying the palace near Genoa, so long the residence of Byron, and which must henceforth have a double hold on the imaginations of those who cling to the cherished associations of the resting places of genius. May health and happiness attend one who has cheered, delighted, and instructed tens of thousands-all good wishes to the author of "Chuzzlewit" and "The Christmas Carol"! By the way, while on the subject of on dits, and good wishes of, and for, gifted absent genius, we ought to mention that Helen Faucit is now winning hearts, and adding to her laurels (if that were possible) at the good city of Cork. We most sincerely-though perhaps selfishly-hope that some London establishment may, next winter, be made attractive by her presence; for she is almost the only actress we have who can feel, and so pourtray, the delicate shades of "Shakspere's women," or the fine characters of some of our managers being supported by a well chosen corps, of whom Mr. J. Webster, Mr. Hudson, Mr. Forman, and Miss Lebatt are by no means the least effective. We do not wonder at the house filling as it does, for here is offered a really intellectual treat, which is quite enough to give one a distaste of such buffooneries, melo-dramas, and clap-trap productions, as have very often desecrated the boards of Covent Garden and Drurylane. We have little hesitation in saying that Sheridan's comedy of "The Rivals," as we witnessed it a few evenings since, was supported in a manner that would not have disgraced the large theatres, in days far more "palmy" than the present. Mr. Phelps' personation of Sir Anthony was a fine piece of acting; the Captain, of Mr. J. Webster, both spirited and easy; and the Sir Lucius O'Trigger, of Mr. Hudson, in perfect keeping. Mrs. Warner was the Julia, and most touchingly did she represent the loving, yet discreet and most forbearing woman. We must own we were not pleased with the Faulklandwhich, by the way, is a most difficult character to redeem from insipidity or maudling sentimentality-but the gentleman who represented the part succeeded, afterwards, so admirably in Lovel, in the farce of "High Life below Stairs," that we cannot find in our hearts to be severe on his Faulkland. We look upon it as a mistake to have cast him in a part for which his talent was not suited. It was the only mistake, however, apparent; for every other character was supported con amore, and the detail of dress and scenery bore evidence of a careful superintendence. We are sure no lover of a good play, well acted—which is a mental recreation to the intellectual, and we devoutly believe, a most influential means of moral and mental improvement to the uneducatedwould regret a pilgrimage from the "far west" of London, to the north-east of Sadler's Wells. FINE ARTS. modern dramatic poets. She has been starring We have recently had an opportunity of viewlong enough at Edinburgh, Glasgow, and we knowing, at the Gallery of Mr. Thompson, in Welbecknot where else; she is absolutely wanted at home-street, that distinguished artist's fine picture of and the "home" of English genius we take to be the embarkation of George the Fourth at Kingsthe Metropolis. PRINCESS'S THEATRE. Aladdin's Lamp "in a new light," from the pen of Mr. G. A. A'Beckett, has brought down roars of laughter, from the rich spirit of burlesque which pervades it throughout. It is one of the most sparkling things of the season. SADLER'S WELLs. This pretty little theatre, where everybody can see and hear, has been, under the spirited and talented management of Mrs. Warner and Mr. Phelps, the home of the legitimate drama ever since they commenced. "Othello," "Werner," and "Virginius" have been admirably represented within the last month; the clever and efficient town, on the occasion of the Sovereign's visit to Ireland, in the year 1821. The moment chosen is that of the King receiving an address from the Mayor, which took place just before he stepped on board the vessel which was to convey him from the shores of Erin; and on which occasion he expressed himself in those warm terms of interest and admiration which Irishmen to this day so fondly remember. The circumstance of presenting the address must naturally have thrown the crowd into an artistic grouping, which Mr. Thompson has seized on and preserved with peculiar felicity. We understand that, with a few trifling exceptions, he had sittings for all the portraits which crowd the canvas, and comprise, of course, some of the most distinguished personages of that day; and from the personal knowledge we have of this artist's rare skill in conveying expression, we have strong faith in the accuracy of his likenesses; although the "lapse of twenty years" has removed SO many of the actors from this shifting scene, and so many who could have decided on points of resemblance: indeed, the events of 1821 are fast becoming past history, rather than even youthful recollections, to the generation which, treading so closely on its predecessor's heels, displaces it by slow, but certain degrees. But for this very reason is it that such pictures as this are of national value; and we hope very soon to find its fame spread, by it being suitably engraved. We ought to have mentioned that the vessels riding in the beautiful bay, and the adjacent county scenery, give, as back-ground to the picture, a singular degree of relief, and a grace seldom found, when similar subjects have been chosen for the artist's pencil. PANORAMA OF THE RUINS OF BAALBEC. FASHIONS FOR AUGUST. Rue du Faubourg, St. Honoré, à Paris, July 24. MY DEAR FRIEND, Our élégantes have now deserted Paris for the sea side, or the fashionable spas. I observe that the very simple style of dress usually adopted for these excursions seems less prevalent this year than usual; it is true we have a variety of materials brought forward expressly pour les eaux, but with the exception of Nankin, batiste écru, and a kind of gingham called toiline, all three intended for early morning négligé. I have seen nothing of the comparatively cheap kind that used to be adopted; the others are summer silks of the prettiest description, plain and twilled foulards, either Indian or French, all of new patterns, bareges, batistes of poil de chevre, coutils de soie, and taffetas d'Italie, such are the materials for robes. As to the chapeaux and capotes, those intended for the early morning walk are either The ruins of the Temples of Baalbec, the an- capotes composed of a silk crown set somewhat cient Heliopolis, are unquestionably among the in the horseshoe form, and a brim of Leghorn, most magnificent and interesting of the relics of sewed straw, or else a capote of plain white straw; antiquity; and Mr. Burford, whose peculiar talent in either case the trimming is composed of ribbon and extraordinary industry are so well-known, has only, with the addition of a veil of either lace or just opened a Panorama in the Upper Circle in tulle. Chapeaux and capotes for public promeLeicester Square, representing these mysterious nade and half-dress, are all of the most elegant remnants of architectural magnificence. The view description. Several capotes of rice straw, and of is taken from the centre of the ruins, one of the paille à jour are trimmed with wreaths of geranium, most prominent objects being a portion of the forget-me-nots, and muguet, or else a tuft of pinks, peristyle of the great Temple of the Sun, consist- or a bouquet of hortensia. Those of fancy straw ing of six magnificent Corinthian pillars. In every are decorated with a long ostrich feather, a superb direction do we find the broken columns and di- willow plume, or, what is in my opinion prettier lapidated walls, which, beneath the radiance of than either, a wreath of marabouts. Capotes of an eastern sky, give that air of gorgeousness, com-crape, covered with tulle, are trimmed in a style bined with desolation, that makes itself felt, but may not easily be described. Imagination tries to picture the scene as it must have appeared when the city was complete, and its busy denizens thronging to the temples. We try to fancy the procession of the idolatrous priests, and the adoration at the shrines; for thought can traverse back the buried centuries. What a lesson on the mutability of human greatness is such a scene as this! These gigantic remnants of unsurpassed architectural grandeur, crumbling from the breath of time-while snow-capped Lebanon rises in the same majesty with which it appeared to Solomon, and the undulating range of Anti-Lebanus, alike unchanged, terminates the horizon on the east. MUSIC.-Miss Eliza Farrell has made her debut in the musical world this season, at the Gardens of St. Peter's, at Margate; and from all we have heard of this young lady, we augur favourably of her future success. We suspect some of the London managers will think it worth while to secure the services of the fair vocalist, as to a commanding person she adds a voice of considerable richness of tone. of extreme lightness, with feathers and ribbons shaded in canary colour, light blue and pink; the plumes are formed of the barbes of marabouts, and the ribbons are gauze, of a transparent, but very brilliant kind. I may cite as equally pretty, but in a more simple style, white crape capotes, lined with blue or pink, and trimmed with field flowers, or with noeuds of white gauze ribbon, edged with a narrow stripe of the colour of the lining of the bonnet. A fashion is gaining ground that is, I think, rather singular than pretty, of having two strongly contrasted kinds of crape in drawn bonnets, as azure blue and pink, lilac and green, and other hues equally opposite; the trimming is always composed of a wreath of flowers panachées in the two colours of the capote, and brides of gauze ribbon, shaded in both hues. Lace capotes and chapeaux, both black and white, are a great deal in request. The black ones are trimmed with pensées and heliotropes; this is a revived fashion, and one that I do not think very likely to last. White ones are variously trimmed, some with a wreath of shaded tétes de plumes; others with sprigs of roses or wreaths of different flowers, and a good many composed of point d'Angleterre, have no other garniture than a superb veil corresponding with the fond of the chapeau. |