for the histrionic art, and for its accessaries, music, dancing, and decorations, &c. and to provide a retreat to meritorious writers and artists, who, by a service of twenty years in the theatre, might entitle themselves thereto. "III. The other third to go to the proprietors, as profit on the capital advanced.”

;

to

The new Drury Lane Theatre was erected under the auspices of Mr. Whitbread, and opened in 1812, with a fresh subscription, limited by the Act of Parliament to 300,0007. (to be added to the debt "left unprovided for,") under the management of a committee and sub-committee. The trustees, &c. of the old concern were now ex-official characters. The sub-committee, on whom the conducting of the performances chiefly rested, were lords, members of parliament, and gentlemen of fortune. Lords and members of parliament to manage a theatre! To listen to tragedy, comedy, opera, and farce; actor, actress, or singer, on engagement, and at rehearsal consult upon casts of character, scenery, dresses, &c. &c. and to "divide upon the question!" Politics must have been post poned for pantomime, and bills of the play must have taken the precedence of bills in parliament. The very first act of the committee (or sub-committee) was-a joke; and gave rise to a better joke" The Rejected Addresses." The "Cobbler of Preston" could not have been so puzzled as these dignitaries appear to have been between their two states of existence. Like the two Roman augurs, when they met, they must have laughed in each other's faces. Their memorial, in 1818, to the Lord Chamberlain, contains the ludicrous assertion that they, the memorialists, would suffer"certain ruin" if the Sans Pareil and Olympic theatres were permitted to exist: this memorial is signed Essex, Yarmouth, D. Kinnaird, T. H. Farquhar, P. Grenfell, Edward Codrington," &c. &c.

66

Lordly management had nearly closed the doors a third time, when the discovery of the brilliant genius of Mr. Kean by the town (not by the sub-committee, for they could not lay claim to any foresight in the matter),

turned the tide in their favour. But to sus

tain their characters as amateurs, they made
use of this "God-send" in the clumsiest
way possible. They possessed an excellent
company of comedians, who had for a sea-
son, through the mismanagement of the com-
mittee, lost their attraction. The theatre had
become what is called "not fashionable."
Now was the opportunity, since Mr. Kean's
ton,"
extraordinary success had restored the "
to try and charm the crowds who came to see

of a work, pay a certain sum for the copyright, and risk an additional sum in the publication, at the hazard of losing by the fiat of a very capricious public-the reading public. But the writer of a drama must make up his mind to stake the labour of months on the fortune of a single night.

tragedy, and attract them, by alternate and
judicious exhibitions, to the representation of
well-cast comedy and opera. But, no: they
thought that the public, like the actors in the
Critic, "would never have enough of a good
thing;" and were determined to cut up their
goose and suck the golden eggs. They
played tragedy as often as the lungs of
Roscius would bear it. They did more:
they tried to persuade the town that they had
no other good actors, by printing the name of
KEAN in enormous capitals, and sinking
every other first-rate performer into common
type. The theatre was afterwards let on
lease; first to Mr. Elliston, and afterwards
to the present lessee, Mr. Price. As we have
nothing to do with their private concerns in
a speculation, for the result of which the
Drury Lane Committee are alone answer-
turn to Covent
able to the public, we
Garden.

Whilst Drury Lane was getting more and
more in debt, her rival sister was following
We have
in the same unprofitable career.
bestowed so much space on one of the fa-
mily, that we must necessarily be brief in
our account of the other. The Theatre
Royal Covent Garden was also destroyed by
fire in 1808, and the expense of the new
building was not less than 300,000/-it had
a previous debt of 30,000l., making the
whole debt 330,000. The sale of the old
materials, money received from the insu-
rance offices, and other property, reduced
the debt, at the opening of the theatre, in
1809, to 200,000 guineas.*

Since all these expenses, affecting both theatres, were made the pretext for raising the prices on the public, it may be worth while hazarding a few observations on them. The difference between Mr. Holland's estimate and the cost of the preceding Drury, is very extraordinary, and the liberality of the proprietors still more so. Who, in erecting an extensive building, would not require security for performance of the contract? and who would not enforce it? Again, when this theatre was destroyed by fire, the sum insured was found to be only 35,000%; the sum expended in the building being 160,000%. The excuse for this is, that the insurance companies demanded 31. 3s. per cent. for insurance of theatres from fire on 5000, and 41. 4s. and 57. 58. on larger sums. We know that the companies decline underwriting more than a certain sum, individually, on such hazardous property; but it is evident that, had the estimate of Drury Lane in this. case been adhered to, it might have been insured, or the loss incurred would have been only 45,000.; whilst, in consequence of this

oversight, or carelessness, it amounted to COMETS AND OTHER CELESTIAL 125,000!. PHENOMENA.

No. XIII.)

"The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handy work."

Psalms of David.

The proprietors of Covent Garden Theatre having expended a large sum, as they state, (From the Edinburgh Literary Journal.— "for the accommodation and safety of an audience, and to the exterior beauty of the building, which they venture to boast of as a public ornament," thought themselves entitled to charge something for this patriotism. They accordingly raised the price of admission to the pit, from 3s. 6d. to 4s., and to the boxes, from 6s. to 7s. and endeavoured to smuggle some score, or more, of private boxes into the third circle. Our readers will recollect the O. P. war, and the negociations, which terminated in the private boxes being restored to the public, and the price of admission to the pit being reduced to the former rate; the box admission remaining at the advance of one shilling.

Drury Lane opening three years later, had the advantage of this advance. A great deal was said about "exterior beauty" also; and Lord Byron, in the address to the public, told them it was

"A shrine for Shakspeare, worthy him or you!" It was, indeed, a shrine where every man was obliged to deposit a piece of silver: this extra shilling demanded being the wages of improvidence, neglect, and trading with other people's capital.

We are glad to find, however, that both theatres are getting out of debt. It was stated recently in the Court of Chancery, that, in the interval between the erection of the present Covent Garden Theatre and the year 1821, the debt was diminished in so large a sum as 140,000l. Drury Lane, also, having escaped from the clutches of the sub-committee, and producing a handsome rental, is paying off her incumbrances: Neither theatre, therefore, can complain much of the want of public patronage.

Every play-goer, who has been in the habit of witnessing the representations of comedy and opera at the summer theatre in the Haymarket, or who was present some weeks since when Mr. Kean delighted the crowded audiences at the English Opera House, with his fine bursts of passion, and deep pathos of subdued feeling, must sigh for a third theatre-a theatre so constituted, that every person in it can follow the performer through his part with gratified attention, can understand his by-play, and distinguish the lower tones of his voice, restrained within its natural compass. In such a theatre alone can genius be appre

ciated.

*

THE modern theory of comets has pretty clearly established, that these apparently flaming bodies, which were so long believed to be immense balls of fire, may, on the contrary, be worlds inhabited by beings in every respect like ourselves, possessing vege tables similar to our own, and suffering no sensible change in temperature, on advancing from the distance of 11,200,000,000 miles from the sun, to within a third part of the semi-diameter of that luminary. That the reader may be enabled to form any accurate notion of the weight which ought to be attached to this theory, it will be necessary to make a few preliminary observations on the nature of heat.

Although the sun is the great fountain of light, the heat upon its surface is probably not greater than that of our own globe; for, as caloric is given out when water is poured into acids or alcohol, so the heat of the sun is, in all likelihood, produced by the rays of light mingling with, or passing through, our atmosphere. In proof of this, it will always be found, that as the air increases in rarity, the heat decreases in intensity, and vice versa Į

that beyond the limits of the atmosphere eternal cold exists in the most brilliant sun

shine;-that the denser the air, the greater the heat;—and, finally, that the ocean would be congealed into a solid waste of ice, were there no atmosphere surrounding the world, though the beams of a luminary, a thousand times brighter than our orb of day, shone

upon it.

hottest climates in the world, those who Although the coast of Peru is one of the gradually ascend the Cordilleras from it, observe that the heat progressively decreases; so that when they have got to the valley of Quito, at the height of about 1400 toises above the level of the sea, the thermometer, in the course of the whole year, scarcely rises 13 or 14 degrees above Zero. If they ascend still higher, this temperature is succeeded by a severe winter; and when they get to the perpendicular height of about 2400 toises, they noctial line, but eternal ice. Some philosomeet with nothing, even under the equi phers, it is true, account for the decrease of temperature, by arguing that the warmth

Sir Isaac Newton computed the heat of the come!, seen by him in 1680, to be 2000 times hotter than red-hot iron.

might revolve, with the same comfort to markind, in the orbit of the Georgian planet.

These things being premised, the phenomenon of comets and their tails will be more easily understood.

In considering the eccentric orbits of comets, some such train of thought as the following may be supposed to pass through our minds :-It is not to be believed that a single atom in creation was made in vain; yet what sort of beings can inhabit worlds, that are at one time in regions of the most perishing cold, at another in those of devouring fire? Is it not possible that some means may have been devised to avoid these extremes? Could not the atmospheres of the comets be increased and decreased, as they recede from, and advance towards, the sun? Does the velocity of their motions, as they approach the sun, not cause their atmospheres to stream off from the nucleus, and form a sort of tail behind, which may again surround them as they recede from our system? Are streams, or tails, in point of fact, seen issuing from these luminaries ? And if so, are they invariably turned from the sun? Do they increase as the comet approaches that orb, and do they gradually surround it as it recedes from the planetary system? So far as science has yet gone, all these questions may be most satisfactorily answered.

which is experienced at the surface of the earth is not merely the direct heat of the sun, but of several causes united; and in particular, that the heat of the plains and valleys is owing to the reflection and absorption of the sun's rays from, and into the ground. But this solution of the difficulty does not seem so satisfactory as that which refers it to the comparative rarity or density of the air. To illustrate the subject, let us have recourse to one or two simple experiments;-Place a piece of ice under the receiver of an airpump; exhaust the atmosphere, and transmit the rays of the sun from a burning mirror or convex lens upon the ice, within the receiver-the brilliant focus will be seen to have no effect upon the congealed mass. Allow the mirror or lens to remain, and admit the air: the ice will then immediately begin to melt. Again, place a piece of ice in a transparent receiver, and let the air be compressed; the frozen matter will be observed to dissolve rapidly, without any other assistance than the beams of day passing through the condensed medium. Again, let us suppose a globe of sand-stone to represent the earth; a flagon, the sun, and a quart of alcohol in it, the light of the sun; pour the spirit from the flagon (or light from the sun) upon the ball of sand-stone, until it be quite saturated still there will be no heat; but suppose this sphere were surrounded by (we shall call it) an atmosphere of water, imme- When a comet is in its aphelion, or diately upon the alcohol mingling with the greatest distance from the sun, it is comwater, heat would be evolved; the globe pletely surrounded by its enormous atmoswould absorb the warmth from its atmosphere; in consequence of which, the beams phere; and while the stream of spirit. fall. ing from the flagon upon the sphere, was cold as ice, the water around the ball would be of a pleasant, and even hot, temperature. It is exactly so with the sun and its light, the earth and its atmosphere. As oceans of alcohol alone could afford no warmth to the globe of sand-stone, so we might look in vain for heat without air, though oceans of light enveloped the world a thousand times denser than what is now flowing from the orb of day.

For a similar cause, the planet Mercury, having a less atmosphere, and the Georgium Sidus a much greater, than that which encircles our world, the medium of heat may be alike in both; and it is likely, that the nearer the planets are to the sun, the lesser will be their atmospheres; the further removed, the greater. Our own earth by losing a part of its surrounding air, might be placed in the system, where Mercury Low is, without any inconvenience to its inhabitants; and in like manner, were the atmospheres increased, it

• Sulphuric acid bas such an affinity for water, that they will unite in any proportion; and the combination takes place with the production of an intense heat. When four parts, by weight, of the acid are suddenly mixed with one of water, the temperature of the mixture rises, according to Dr.

Ure, to 300° F.

VOL. I.

4 K

of the sun, be they ever so feeble, in passing through such a dense medium, will create a sufficient quantity of heat for the support of animal and vegetable life, even at that immeasurable distance. Bailly remarks (vide Hist. d'Astron. iii. 257.), that were the comet of 1680, in its aphelion, 138 times more remote from the sun than the earth, it would receive five or (taking the refraction occasioned by its dense atmosphere into consideration) six times as much light from the sun as we do from the full moon. As the comet approaches the sun the coma commences streaming from the head, and as the velocity of the motion increases, the tail increases in length also. In so doing, the superabundant atmosphere is thrown off, and the same medium of heat experienced throughout all the comet's orbit. But as light issues from the sun with such inconceivable rapidity, the tail of the comet will be entangled therein, and flow from the sun as a banner does when playing loosely before the wind. Gradually as the comet advances to the verge surround it, and as it travels through the of the planetary system, its tail will begin to chilly depths of space, the more, and yet the more, will it be enveloped in its atmospheric mantle-to compare small things with great -just as a person in travelling from the

Passion encircles this world just as smoke surrounds the fire. It watches for opportunities of admission even into the bosoms of holy Moonys.

Repress the first incentives to evil, which may easily be subdued. Believe not those who say, that to conquer our passions, and change our inclinations, is to wash the ele

THE whole world is but an emanation from phant. the Great Brahma.

The soul is an inseparable portion of the great universal mind; in other words, of Brahma. Like the Being from whom it emanates, it is therefore indestructible. It knows no distinction of time; it is free, immutable, eternal. The wind cannot pierce it, fire cannot burn it, water cannot drown it, the earth cannot absorb it. It is beyond the reach of the elements, invulnerable, invisible, universal, subsisting in all places and at all times, and victorious over death.

Sully not this pure emanation of Brahma by sordid vices. As the tortoise returns within its shell, so does the wise man retire within himself from the influence of the senses. Let but one passion throw off the yoke of reason, and wisdom will be to the soul like water poured into a vessel without bottom.

The first and best adoration is to fulfil one's destiny. Man was not formed for duration only, but to run the risk prescribed by fate.

An ordinary duty well performed, is of more value than the highest, if fulfilled inadequately.

Let no duty be carried to excess; even honey can kill, if mixed with poison.

Good works, so far from being renounced, as some vainly teach, are the medium through which we must arrive at happiness with the gods. We must do good to complete the plan of Brahma.

Good and evil are necessary, nor can one exist without the other. They are as inseparable as fire and smoke.

Eternal nature has three great qualities, from the opposition and combination of which result all the appearances, moral and physical, of the universe: these are, Tativa, truth; Rajas, passion; and Tamas, darkness. Matter and mind are the same, and equally affected by the incessant operations of these great principles. These operations and their results constitute the Maya, or incomprehensible magic of Brahma: they proceed from him, and subsist in him. He is the air which fills all things, yet remains uninfluenced by them. He is the bond of the universe, the thread which connects the beads of a necklace.

If good works are necessary, so also is faith. Like a skilful pilot, it will guide our bark through the ocean of sin,

Wisdom destroys the power of sin, as fire consumes the dried branch.

Brahma writes the destiny of every child on its forehead; but, though our lot be un.' alterably fixed, our virtue or vice is the work of our own hands.

Naraka, or hell, has three gates-lust, anger, and avarice. The Bridge of Indra has also three-prayer, almsgiving, and penance.

He who has faith, obtains wisdom; and by wisdom, sin is overcome. As the serpent casts its skin, so may man cast off his

vices.

To enjoy the blessings of life, without grateful acknowledgments to Heaven, is downright robbery.

As a melodious voice is the boast of the nightingale, so is chastity that of a woman.

Though the soul is imprisoned within a city which has nine gates (the body), it is ever present to Brahma, and ever united with him.

Perfection may be attained by all. The Moony is like the solitary lamp, the blaze of which is never disturbed by the wind. Desires pass through his soul, just as rivers flow into the sea: as the mass of waters is not increased in the one case, no more is his tranquillity disturbed in the other.

All knowledge is but vanity to him who neglects to lead a good life, and honour Brahma.

Happy is he who controls the five natural

senses.

The body is strengthened by nerves, and the soul by friendship.

We should love our neighbours as we do our own offspring.

He who is humble, and who employs no other language than that which is mild and sweet, has no need of ornaments; his conduct is his nobility.

A woman, who uses economy, is the glory of her husband.

Though women spring from sin, they may arrive at the gods by purity and chastity. There can be no greater sinner than he who hunts for his neighbour's wife. Music may be sweet to those who have not heard the prattling of their children.

As the earth supports those who trample it underfoot, and tear open its bosom in cultivating it, so ought we to return good for evil.

To be angry with a superior, is a great crime; but it is a greater to be angry with an inferior.

The injuries which we inflict on others,