PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS FOR MAY. FRENCH THEATRE. MAIDS TO BE MARRIED. [Continued from Page 215.] Enter JAQUEMIN and SAINVILLE. Jaquemin. Ladies, I have the pleasure of introducing my young friend, Mr. Sainville to you. But who have we here? Is it you, my dear Sir? (to Corsignac) Sainville. Already here, Corsignac? Corsignac. In person. But why are you so much astonished, since you were expecting me, and were gone to meet me? Jaquemin. That's a mistake; I went to meet Sainville, but I am not the less pleased with your visit. The ladies must have taken you for your friend. Therese. Exactly. Corsignac. If so, they have paid me a high compliment (aside). Zounds, I expected he would not come before to-morrow. Jaquemin. What lucky chance has led you here? Corsignac. Sainville comes to buy an estate; and I should-have no objection to purchase a small farm in your neighbourhood, for I long to renew the friendship we formed at Paris. Jaquemin. With all my heart. Good morning, Mr. Ledoux; this increase of company will heighten the joys of our little society. But I forgot to introduce my children to Sainville. Here are my two daughters; my Louise, my skilful housekeeper, my two wards, and Mademoiselle Ursule Rouvigni, our neighbour, with whose relations you have been acquainted. Sainville. I have had that honour. Corsignac, I must now return Sainville all the attentions that have been bestowed upon me; he did not think he should find me here; but he was expected by every one. Sainville. I will beg of the amiable housekeeper to be my interpreter to her companions. When I behold such attractions shining all around me, it is impossible I should not wish the connexion between our two families should become stillcloser. Louise. I will frankly answer for all, that our father's friend cannot fail to become ours. Sainville. Hasten to find out an estate, my dear Jaquemin, for my impatience to live near you in reases every moment. Jaquemin. I have no doubt of it, and will fulfil your wishes as soon as it is in my power. Ursule (aside to Pauline). Well, Pauline? Pauline. It is difficult to see a more elegant shape. Ursule (to Agathe). What is your opinion of him? Agathe. Ah! my opinion. But tell me first what you think of him? Ursule. I think of my friends alone.—( To Pauline) You may fall in love with him, and I will assist your conquest. Louise. I was forgetting the duties of my station, and will now prepare a better reception for my father's guests. [Exit. Therese (aside). Be at rest, Louise, they will oppose thy success; but he will at last be thine. (Aloud). Gentlemen, I wish you a good day.(Aside, looking at Sainville). My Auguste will be just like him when he is old. [Exit. Agathe (to Ursule). Mr. Corsignac seems to possess Sainville's confidence; we should try to make him speak Ursule. I take that upon me. Pauline (to Ursule). O! that I could know all his tastes, his temper. Ursule. I will soon give you a faithful account of it. Good morning, gentlemen. [Exeunt Agathe, Ursule, and Pauline. Ledoux (aside). All is over with me, she does not honour me with a single look. Jaquemin Well, my dear Sainville, do you find them handsome and amiable; speak frankly before us. Sainville. The only difficulty is to choose, and the only fear not to be worthy of our choice. It seems, however, that you have not concealed the secret motive of my journey. Jaquemin. They know nothing positive, though they parily guess it But let us understand each other well; their persons please you, and as you have confidence in me, you must depend upon my word for the rest. I answer for the goodness of their dipositions; and as you are not to form a romantic passion, but to choose her whose tastes and sentimen's will be in unison with yours, hasten to make the selection, and we will have the wedding. Sainville. Not quite so quick; though I can not reproach you with want of discretion; for I will bet any thing that the secret I confided to my friend, Corsignac, is the sole cause of his visit. Corsignac. You are right, Sainville; you know me well I have been long sking for a good opportunity of entering the matrimonial noose; and though I have met with some, have always been too difficult, or four the ladies so. Sometimes young girls slighted me for men who possessed greater riches, and sometimes I deemed the offers of old maids too foolish to be accepted. No sooner had Sainville revealed his secret, than I took a sudden determination: withour informing him of my plan, I set off an hour before him, and here I am. I will do him justice, however, notwithstanding my merit, he still surpasses me, but he cannot marry the four young ladies. Let him chouse first, my turn will come after; and if 1 obtain Mr. Jaquemin's consent, instead of one wedding, we shall have two. grant you my con Jaquemin Yes, indeed, sent; I like an original, like you. But what are you speaking about two weddings, I hope to marry all my girls? Sainville shall have Louise; you, Pauline; Mr. Ledoux, Agathe; and Therese, her cousin. Sainville. It is, then, the amiable Louise, whom I addressed, you have singled out for my partner. Jaquemin. It is she, my eldest daughter; she is good tempered, handsome, and simple, without foolishness. Sainville Good tempered and handsome! Le me only have the happiness of pleasing her, and I shall be your son-in-law. Corsignac. And you allow me to aspire to the hand of the interesting Pauline. Jaquemin Yes, the youngest of my wards; a sensible, sentimental, roman ic girl. Corsignac. It is the influence of our merit that has caused the quarrel between them. Jaquemin. Hearken, Sainville; though you did not ask it of me in your letter, I have got an apartment ready for you. Sainville. In the present case, I think it more proper to refuse your kind offer. Jaquemin. I will not permit you. Corsignac. Never mind him; he is too headstrong. The apartment you had prepared for him, will do very well for me, as I do not feel the same scruples. Jaquemin. You will be both accommodated in my house: but let us go to breakfast. This will be a lucky day, the young neighbour alone will remain unmarried; but I shall find her a suitable mate. Follow me. [Exeunt Jaquemin and Sainville. Enter URSULE, Ursule (aside). He is alone, so much the bet ter. (Aloud.) Sir! Corsignac. Ready to obey your orders, ma'am. Ursule. I wish to speak a few words with you. Corsignac. I shall listen with rapture to your voice. Ursule. You are Mr. Sainville's friend. Corsignac. Intimately acquainted with him. Ursule. What sort of man is he? Corsignac. This is a strange question. Ursule. Speak your mind plainly. I know the motive which led him here, and my only inten tion is to be useful to my friends. Corsignac. Your generosity is commendable. Ursule. A perfect knowledge of Mr. Sainville's temper will enable me to judge whom he ought to pr fer, and whom he will suit. Corsignac. This is a nice case; but I will tell you the truth. Sainville is a charming com. panion, sparkling with wit, of a frank and cheer Corsignac. Romantic, do you say? A word to the wise, I'll profit by this piece of intelligence.ful disposition, an enemy to gambling and deSympathy, duels, old castles, ghosts, and nice feelings; with all this, in a few days, I am your ward Ledoux. Your prospects are fair, and I wish mine were as promising; but the reception have just now met with, has not raised my hopes very high. Jaquemin What do I hear? Ledoux. Do not get into a passion; you see I am calm, though offended. Agathe will return to me; but the arrival of these gentlemen led her into another fit of haughtiness. Have the goodness only to tell her, that when her friends are provided for, I am at her service. Mr. Jaquemin, till the time comes. Jaquemin. He is a truly worthy Agathe will repent her behaviour. Your servant, [Exit. man, and bauchery; but not so methodistical as to refuse a game, or a convivial meeting, when required. He wishes to have, for the partner of his existence, a lady endowed with an equal temper, and a quick sensibility, without affectation; and fond, like himself, of rural pleasures. As for me, my fortune is not so considerable, but sufficient to live comfortably. I have less reason, but more gaiety; and will rest satisfied with what his choice will leave me. I even now exult at the thought, that out of five ladies one has already acknowledged she gave up all pretentions to his heart. But Mr. Jaquemin expects me; we shall soon meet again, and you will discover that every thing I have told you of Sainville and myself, is exactly true. [Exit. Ursule. All this will do very well. Enter AGATHE. Agathe. What news? Ursule. As you are the eldest, it is but fair you should be married first, and you may depend upon my assistance. Sainville is an accomplished being, but he likes to live well; he wants to buy an estate, and fix his abode in the country to support a large establishment. Hunting, horses, and all the exercises which require a great deal of dexterity are his delight, and he expects his wife to share in all his courses and amusements. Agathe. Ah! my dear Ursule, how much I am obliged to you; what a lucky unison of tastes! I can play so well at billiards, ride on horseback, and have got such a pretty riding habit! I will hasten to put it on, as well as my small black hat, and a little rouge, for my cheeks are usually pale. Beware above all things to let Pauline or Louise know any thing. Ursule. Trust me. [Exit Agathe. Enter PAULINE. Pauline. How impatiently I waited till my sister had left you. Ursule. She is very foolish, and will do very well to marry Mr. Ledoux. As to Louise, her heart is cold, and 1 may not scruple to take your part alone. Sainville is perfect in every thing, except that he is too romantic and sentimental. He flies away from the bustling town, to lead a pastoral life in the country; he longs to be the object of a violent passion, and would not be sorry to meet with obstacles to his marriage, that he might contend with them and triumph over difficulties. Pauline. Do you call that a defect? I do not wonder now that at the first moment I saw him, 1 felt Ursule. I am much mistaken, if you have not produced a deep impression upon his soul. The only way to insure your conquest is to ap. pear in a plain negligé. COVENT-GARDEN. On Friday, the 8th of May, was produced at this Theatre, a new Opera, in three acts, under the title of "Peter the Great; or, Wooden Walls," by Mr. Cherry. The story relates to the pilgrimages of Czar Peter in the disguise of a mechanic, to England, Holland, and Germany, in order to acquire a knowledge of the several trades of those countries, for the purpose of introducing civilization into Russia.The memorable adventure of his working in the yard of a shipwright, and his meeting with Catharine, whom he afterwards espoused, are the ground works of the present piece; and though the truth of history has been violated, and every feature of the real characters of Peter and Catharine recast in the dramatic model, upon the plan of Arcadian softness and pastoral simplicity,-though the ferocity of this famed Northern Chieftain is changed into a tone of ethical benevolence, and moral philosophy,though he makes as deep and pious reflections upon the use of supreme power, and the restraint of the passions, as a Titus, or a Marcus Antoninus; notwithstanding the perversions of historical fact, which, (if it were resolved to make an Opera from the adventures of Peter the Great) were undoubtedly necessary,-notwithstanding all this, we do not hesitate to pronounce the present piece fully entitled to the favourable reception which it met with. It has, doubtless, a great many faults-There too much weight and severity in a disguised Prince for the basis of a Comic Opera-Nothing that is grand can be humorous-The fable is too regular; nothing occurs to throw it out of the straight line of narrative,-to perplex it with intricacy and embarrassment, or to give it the effect of almost all dramatic pleasure,-STAGE SITUATION-It is too monotonous both in character and situation; the relief of humour is of en tried, and often tried well-Notwithstanding without exception, one of the best Dramatic Mr. Pauline. A white gown, a straw hat, an Eng-these deductions, the present Opera is perhaps, lish countenance, a novel in my ridicule-this is it. You cannot conceive, Ursule, what grati-Pieces of the present season -The character of tude swells my breast. [Exit. || Peter (imaginery as it is) is uncommonly well drawn; there is sometimes great force and sobriety in his declamation; and the Shipwright is a very respectable attempt at humour.Cherry deserves great credit for the production of this piece-The music, by M. Jouve, is beautiful; and almost every song was encored.-Incledon, Muuden, and Bellamy, particularly distinguished themselves; and at a better period of the season, "Wooden Walls" would have been more Ursule. I proceed rather quick, perhaps, and imprudently; for Agathe and Pauline might meet, and come to an explanation. But now I have begun, it is too late to stop. I'll seek for Louise, and with courage and perseverance to direct all my actions-Sainville will be mine. End of the First Act. [Exit. E. R. popular than any thing that has been produced. We trust it will yet have a considerable run.It will doubtless prove a great favourite in the closet. ON THE STRUCTURE OF OUR THEATRES. MR EDITOR, No place of public resort lays under contribu tion a greater number of different departments of the fine arts, than the theatre: none, consequently, is more calculated than the theatre, under proper direction, to improve the taste of a nation with respect to those arts; and to give foreigners an exalted idea of the measure of that taste in every country. Architecture, sculpture, painting, the most graceful forms of the body, the most impressive passions of the mind, the costume of different nations, and the manners of different ages, can no where be collected in a stronger focus, and can no where be exhibited to a greater variety of spectators. I cannot however help thinking, Sir, that our theatres still stand greatly in need of that proper direction here alluded to; and as you may not deem it totally unworthy of the office you have assumed, to bestow the same-I shall, with your leave, point out what seems to me to be some or the most striking defects which still continue to disfigure, not the texture of our dramatic productions, but simply the localities in which these are exhibited the arrangement of our playhouses and the costume of our stage. The antients had adopted, for their theatres, the semicircular form. This form, of which the different parts meet the eye most directly and most fully, is in itself the most elegant and the most beautiful, for the interior of the house: it moreover places all the spectators at the shortest and most equal distance from the stage, and gives them the most direct and complete view of that stage, which alone ought to fill the whole orbit of the eye. If the boxes be divided by columns, or other architectural supports, of any size or strength (without which no playhouse can display the least appearance of elegance or symmetry, solidity or grandeur,) this form alone prevents these sup. ports from interfering with the view of the performance-And, accordingly, the French have lately begun to adopt this form in several of their newest and most elegant theatres. Our playhouses, on the contrary, still uniformly present a very elongated oval, or rather, a pear-like shape; which, swelling as it recedes from the stage, and contracting as it approaches the same, renders its opening a great deal too narrow for the width of the house, and, instead of making the space allotted for the performance, solely and entirely to occupy the sight of the spectator, only allows it to fill, in his distracted eye, a small portion of the space of which the remainder is filled by the audience itself. I need hardly observe how irregular, how lame, how distorted this form is in itself, and abstracted from all relation to the stage. It presents every one of its parts in an oblique and a different point of view; it allows none to meet the eye fully and regularly; but, above all, it throws most of the spectators at a considerable distance from the stage, makes half the boxes entirely exclude the other half from a view of the performance, and, of those spectators whom it allows to see the scene at all, it only permits the greatest proportion to behold it in a lateral and an oblique direction, by distorting their spines, and dislocating their necks: moreover, it totally precludes all possibility of dividing the boxes by means of any of those architectural supports aforesaid, columns, caryatides, terms, or others, which are necessary in order to give elegance and dignity to the whole; to divide the parts by marked points of symmetry and of repose, and to obviate the suspended look of the different tiers of boxes, which, when they happen to be very crowded, cause them to produce not only an impression of confusion on the eye, but of real terror on the mind. Should you, Sir, deem these few strictures on the shape of our playhouses, worthy of insertion, I shall perhaps be tempted to trouble you with a few more on the disposition of the stage. A. Z. |