of the nobles and grandees. I was not often tempted to the theatre, which was small, dark, ill-furnished, and ill attended, yet when the celebrated tragic actress, known by the title of the Tiranna, played, it was a treat, which I should suppose no other stage then in Europe could compare with. That extraordinary woman, whose real name I do not remember, and whose real origin cannot be traced, till it is settled from what particular nation or people we are to derive the outcast race of gipsies, was not less formed to strike beholders with the beauty and com manding majesty of her person, than to astonish all that heard her, by the powers that nature and art had combined to give her. My friend Count Pietra Santa, who had honourable access to this great stage-heroine, intimated to her the very high expectation I had formed of her perfor mances, and the eager desire I had to see her in one of her capital characters, telling her, at the same time, that I had been a writer for the stage in my own country. In consquence of this intimation, she sent me word that I should have notice from her when she wished me to come to the theatre, till when, she desired I would not present myself in my box upon any night, though her name might be in the bill, for it was only when she liked her part, and was in the humour to play well, that she wished me to be present.

"In obedience to her message, I waited several days, and at last received the looked-for summons. I had not been many minutes in the theatre before she sent a message to me to go home, for that she was in no disposition that evening for playing well, and should neither do justice to her own talents, nor to my expectations. I instantly obeyed this whimsical injunction, knowing it to be so per fectly in character with the capricious humour of her tribe. When something more than a week had passed, 1 was again invited to the theatre, and permitted to sit out the whole representation. I had not then enough of the language to understand much more than the incidents and

action of the play, which was of the deepest cast of tragedy, for in the course of the plot she murdered her infant children, and exhibited them dead on the stage lying on each side of her, whilst she, sitting on the bare floor between them (her attitude, action, features, tones, defying all description) presented such a highwrought picture of hysteric phrensy,

LAUGHING WILD AMIDST SEVEREST

woE, as placed her in my judgment at the very summit of her art; in fact I have no conception that the powers of acting can be carried higher, and such was the effect upon the audience, that whilst the spectatore in the pit, having caught a kind of sympathetic phrensy from the scene, were rising up in a tumultuous manner, the word was given out by authority for letting fall the curtain, and a catastrophe, probably too strong for exhibition, was not allowed to be completed.

"A few mintites had passed, wher this wonderful creature, led in by Pietra Santa, entered my box; the artificial paleness of her cheeks, her eyes, which she had died of a bright vermillion round the edges of the lids, her fine arms bare to the shoulders, the wild magnificence of her attire, and the pofusion of her dishevelled locks, glossy black as the plumage of raven, gave her the appearance of something so more than human, such a Sybil, such as imaginary being, so awful, so impressive, that my blood chilled, as she approached me not to ask but to claim my applause, demanding of me if I had ever seen any actress, that could be compared with her in my own, or any other, country. was determined,' she said, to exert myself for you this night; and if the sensibility of the audience would have suffered me to have concluded the scene, I should have convinced you that I do not boast of my own performances without reason."

I

"The allowances which the Spanish theatre could afford to make to its performers, were so very moderate, that I should doubt if the whole year's salary of the Tiranna would have more than paid for the magnifi cent dress in which she then appeared »

but this and all other charges appertaining to her establishment were defrayed from the coffers of the Duke of Osuna, a grandee of the first class, and commander of the Spanish Guards. This noble person found it indispensably necessary for his honour to have the finest woman in Spain upon his pension, but by no means necessary to be acquainted with her, and, at the very time of which I am now speaking, Pietra Santa seriously assured me, that his Excellency had indeed paid large sums to her order, but had never once visited, or even seen her. He told me, at the same time, that he had very lately taken upon himself to remonstrate upon this want of curiosity, and having suggested to his excellency how possible it was for him to order his equipage to the door, and permit him to introduce him to this fair creature, whom he knew only by report, and the bills she had drawn upon his treasurer, the duke graciously consented to my friend's proposal, and actually set out with him for the gallant purpose of taking a cup of chocolate with his hitherto invisible mistress, who had notice given her of the intended visit. The distance from the house of the grandee to the apartments of the gipss not great, but the lulling motion of the great state-coach, and the softness of the velvet cushions had rocked his Excellenty into so sound a nap, that when his equipage stopped at the lady's door, there was not one of his retinue bold enough to undertake the invidious task of troubling his repose. The consequence was, that after a proper time was passed upon the halt for this brave commander to have waked, had mature so ordained it, the coach wheeled round, and his Excellency having slept away his curiosity, had not at the time when I left Madrid ever cast his eyes upon the person of the incomparable Tiranna. I take for granted my friend Pietra Santa drank the chocolate, and his Excellency enjoyed the nap. I will only add, in confirmation of my anecdote, that the good Abbe Curtis, who had the honour of educating this illustrious sleeper, verified the fact.

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thus acquired the name, which it has ever since retained, of SADLER's WELLS; and the well to which it owes its reputation still remains, nearly in the centre of the present coach-yard, covered with a brick-arch. While under Sadler's management, the premises appear to have been merely a tea-garden, with a music room, upon the plan of Bagnigge Wells and White-Conduit House in our own days; to which the company paid nothing for admission, the proprietor depending for remuneration upon the profits arising from the sale of refreshments. After the decease of Sadler, one Francis Forcer, a musician, and composer of songs, became proprietor of the place. He was succeeded by his son, who added to the other attractions, the diversions of rope-dancing and tumbling, which were exhibited in the gardens, in the open air. Forcer died in 1743, when the property was purchased by one Rosomon, a noted Harlequin, and rival of Rich, who brought the amusements somewhat nearer to their present description. In 1746, a Ballet, founded on the then recent Battle of Culloden was a great favourite; also Hogarth's "Harlot's Progress" dramatised, with Songs by Lampe, which became as popular among the lower classes as those of "The Beggar's Opera." In 1765 he rebuilt the premises, on an enlarged scale, in the form of a regular theatre. At this time, the sides of the house were occupied by two tiers of Galleries, which were of equal price, and commuicated with each other, so that the occupants might ascend or descend at their pleasure. They were flat, with one long seat fixed to the wall, besides moveable benches. Drinking was generally practised, for every spectator who chose, paid on his admission (besides the entrance-money) sixpence for a ticket, which entitled him to demand at the bar a pint of punch or wine. This novelty took amazingly,

and Rosomon gained money rapidly, Many of our readers may perhaps recollect that this practice of selling wine tickets was still retained during their early visits to this scene of juve nile amusement; in fact (though occasionally supended) it was not wholly discontinued so recently as 1805; as will appear by the following extract from the advertisement which announced the opening of the house that year

66

Notwithstanding the New Duties on Foreign Wine, it will be continued at 2s. 6d. per bottle; and as the smallness of the price has induced a partial belief that the Wine sold at the Wells is adulterated, the Proprietors beg leave to observe, that as it is introduced as an accommodation to the Public, it is sold (at a considerable loss) pure and genuine as imported by their Merchants, Mes-rsDixon and Ramsay, St. Mary Hill."

From this account it will readily be gathered that the spectators were not of a very refined description. Macklin, the actor, being at this theatre one night in his old age, gare a friend the following lively description of the company and performances at the period alluded to

"Sir, I remember when the price of admission here was but three-pence, except for a few places scuttled off at the sides, at sixpence, which were usually reserved for people of fashion, who occasionally came to see the fun. Here we smoked, and drank porter" and rum-and-water, as much as we could pay for and every man that liked it had his doxy, and so forth; and though we had a mixture of very odd company (for I believe it was a good deal the baiting-place of thieves and highwaymen) there was little or no rioting. There was a PUBLIC then, sir, that kept one another in awe."

Q. Were the entertainments any thing like the present?

A. "No, no nothing in the shape of them; some hornpipes and ballad-singing, with a kind of pantomimic ballet, and some lofty tumbling; and all this was done by daylight: there were four or five exhibitions every day."

Q. And how long did these continue at a time?

A. "Why, sir, it depended upon circumstances. The proprietors had always a fellow on the outside of the booth, to calculate how many people were gathered for a second exhibition, and when he thought there were enough, he came to the back of the upper seats, and cried out, Is HIRAM FISTEMAN here?' This was the cant word agreed upon between the parties, to announce the state of the people without; upon which they concluded the entertainments with a song, dismissed the audience, and prepared for another performance."

We this week give a representation of the building, copied from a cut in an old 4to vol. of Songs published periodically during the years 1745-6, under the title of "Universal HarInony." In our next Section we shall bring down the history of the -place to the present period, and illus *trate it with a view of the theatre as it now appears.-(Resumed at p. 249.)

LORD BYRON. A PAPER called the "Dublin Star" has published what it styles "The Cause of Lord Byron's Separation from his Wife," professing to give a very circumstantial account of the particulars of that unfortunate affair, but in all probability not containing a single word of truth. At least we know some parts of it to be incorrect, and we are therefore warranted in regarding the remainder with suspicion. The article is too long to quote entire, but we shall give its sub

stance.

After informing us that Lady Byron had a female confidante, who busied herself in prejudicing the wife against the husband; it proceeds thus: "In 1816, when Lord B, was one of the Committee of Drury-Lane Theatre, the beautiful Mrs. Mardyn, at that time a member of the Company, had occasion to call on Lord B. at his residence, on some theatrical business, and was shewn into the library. During her stay, there game on a dreadful storm of rain; and when the lady was about to de

part, Lord B. sent a servant to procure a hackney-coach. There not being a single coach to be found, his Lordship very politely ordered his carriage to convey her home. Lady Byron, who had received intimation that Mrs. Mardyn was in the house, on learning that the carriage was ordered for her, directed the servant to say that his Lordship's carriage had been lent, and was abroad. Then," said Lord Byron (who immediately suspected that this was an excuse, arising from the jealous mind of his Lady, and her consequent disinclination that a conveyance should be provided for the female stranger), with some impetuosity, 'let Lady Byron's carriage be instantly get ready." Lady B.'s answer to this was, 'Go, and tell your master that Mrs. Mardyn shall never ride in a carriage belonging to me.' Hereupon Lord Byron, with great sang froid observed, that as Mrs. Mardyn could not be procured any kind of conveyance home, she should stay and dine. Dinner was at length announced, and the Noble Lord led Mrs. M. to the dining-room, where Lady Byron had just preceded them. On their entrance he presented Mrs. Mardyn to his Lady, who, with an air and manner manifesting the deepest indignation, made some caustic observations on Mrs. Mardyn's character, and the object of her visit, and burst from the room. The consciousness of his integrity of conduct, and the injustice of Lady B.'s suspicions, roused in turn a momentary, though perhaps a too warm resentment, in the bosom of his Lordship, and as he followed his Lady to the door, he betrayed more of defiance, even, than of reproach, and quickly slapped it to, as Lady Byron retired. This was too much for a woman full of love and passion, and, with another feeling, superinduced by both, she re-entered. Her proud spirit was depicted in her countenance, and with a firmness and determination from which she never after relaxed, she exclaimed, 'I leave you for ever;-never will I live with that man again! These were the last words Lord Byron ever heard