OUR LIBRARY TABLE. was to be crowned with her as king. Crowned as king! Surprised and hurt at what the Treasurer had let fall, she sat in silent pain, until Guilford came into her room, when she broke into a fit of honest wrath. "The crown," she said, " was not a plaything for boys and girls. She could not make him a king. A duke she had power to make, but only Parliament could make a man king." Guilford began to cry, and left the room. In a few minutes he came to be king, and would not be a duke." The Queen back with his mother, still whimpering that “he wanted was firm, and, after a hot scene, the Duchess took her boy away, declaring that he should not live with an ungrateful wife. HER MAJESTY'S TOWER (by Hepworth Dixon). Even in the hands of an ordinary writer, the subject Mr. Dixon has chosen could not fail to be replete with interest. The grim old building, palace and prison, associated as it is with times and personages of the utmost importance in the annals of this nation, has hitherto afforded rich materials to our historical romancists. In Mr. Dixon's hands it overflows with the romance of history; he deals in facts, untrimmed except with the brilliancy of his charming style; and, having access to information only to be found in out-of-the-way places, and even then at an outlay of tedious and painstaking research, he has been enabled to There is no need to tell the bitter story of her add many charming touches to the stories with enforced marriage with the weak son of the which we are all familiar, and to tell others less Duke of Northumberland, to which she had generally known. Clear, sharp, and graphic, been driven even with blows, or of her genuine the pictures of the haughty Elinor, of reluctance to sovereignty, which her rectitude Maud the Fair, of Anne Boleyn, of the no less than her reason refused. In a former best and noblest of the Tudor race the un-page the story of her studious, retired life at fortunate Lady Jane Gray, the gallant glorious Bradgate, where, secluded from the pleasures Raleigh, and a host of other unforgotten men and suited to her youth, her sex, and her position, women, great by the force of virtue, patriotism, she learned to look on her books as her most religion, endurance, or suffering, are brought beloved companions, and the hours spent with before us, refreshed and glorified, if that were Roger Ascham, or good Master Aylmer, her possible, by the style and verbal colouring of preceptor, as the only happy ones she enjoyed. the author. Take for instance the following Who forgets the former's description of the last description of the first day of the reign of Queen time he ever beheld "that sweet and noble lady"-a girl philosopher in her chamber reading the "Phodon" of Plato in Greek-and answering, when he inquired why she was not in the park, where the Marquis and Marchioness of Dorset and the ladies and gentlemen of the household were engaged in hunting: “I wis all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure I find in Plato. Alas, good folk! they never felt what true pleasure means!" The speaker had arrived at this conviction at fourteen years of age, through the severity of her sharp parents and the sweet gentleness of her schoolmaster, who taught her so pleasantly with such fair allurements to learning, that her book had become so much her pleasure, and brought her daily so much more, that all other pleasures seemed but trifles and troubles in comparison to it. often as the sad story has been told, we venture Our space obliges us to be brief: but, Dixon has depicted it : to bring her last hour before our readers as Mr. Jane : On a bright July morning Queen Jane embarked in the Royal barge at Sion, and followed by a cloud of galleys, bright with bunting, gay with music, riotous with cannon, dropt down the river, making holiday along the banks, passing the great Abbey. another hour at Durham House, and shooting through the arches of London Bridge. She landed at the Queen's stair about three o'clock, under the roar of saluting guns, and was conducted through the crowds of kneeling citizens to her regal lodgings by the two Dukes, the Marquises of Winchester and Northampton, Arundel, Pembroke, Paget, Westmoreland, Warwick -all the great noblemen who had made her Queen. Her mother Frances bore her train, and her husband Guilford walked by her side, cap in hand, and bowing lowly when she deigned to speak. The Lieutenant, Sir John Brydges, and his deputy, Thomas Brydges, received her Majesty on their knees. she was proclaimed in the City, when the King's death At five o'clock calling for an hour at Whitehall Palace, and for was announced and his final testament made known. But the day was not to end in peace; for after supper was over, and the Queen had gone to her rooms, the Marquis of Winchester (Lord Treasurer) brought up the private jewels, which he desired her to wear, and the Royal crown, which he wished her to try on. Jane looked at the shining toy, and put it from her in haste, saying, "It will do." Winchester told her another crown would have to be made." "Another For whom must another crown be made ?" "For the Lord Guilford," said the Marquis, since he crown! When she looked out upon the green, she saw the archers and lancers drawn up, and Guilford being led away from the Lieutenant's door. She now sat down and waited for her summons to depart. An hour went slowly by; and then her quick ear caught the rumble of a cart on the stones. She knew that this cart contained poor Guilford's body, and she rose to greet the corse as it passed by. Her women, who were all in tears, endeavoured to prevent her going to the window, from which she could not help seeing the block and headsman waiting for her turn; but she gently forced them aside, looked out on the cart, and made the dead youth a last adieu. Brydges and Feckenham now came for her. The two gentlewomen could hardly walk for weeping; but Lady Jane, who was dressed in a black gown, came forth, with a prayer-book in her hand, a heavenly smile on her face, a tender light in her grey eyes; she walked modestly across the green, passed through the files of troopers, mounted the scaffold, and then, turning to the crowd of spectators, softly said: "Good people, I am come hither to die. The fact against the Queen's highness was unlawful; but, touching the procurement and desire thereof by me, or on my behalf, I wash my hands thereof, in innocency, before God, and in the face of you, good Christian people, this day." She paused, as if to put away from her the world, with which she had now done for ever. Then she added-"I pray you all good Christian people, to bear me witness that I die a true Christian woman, and that I look to be saved by no other means than the mercy of God, in the merits of the blood of His only Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ. And now, good people, while I am alive, I pray you to assist me with your prayers." Kneeling down she said to Feckenham, the only divine whom Mary would allow to come near her, "Shall I say this psalm ?" The abbot faltered "Yes." On which she repeated, in a clear voice, the noble psalm :-" Have mercy upon me, O God, after Thy great goodness: according to the multitude of Thy mercies do away mine of fences." When she had come to the last line she stood up on her feet, and took off her gloves and kerchief, which she gave to Elizabeth Tylney. The Book of Psalms she gave to Thomas Brydges, the Lieutenant's deputy. Then she untied her gown, and took off her bridal gear. The headsman offered to assist her, but she put his hands gently aside, and drew a white kerchief round her eyes. The veiled figure of the executioner sank at her feet, and begged her forgiveness for what he had now to do. She whispered in. his ear a few soft words of pity and pardon; and then said to him openly, "I pray you despatch me quickly." Kneeling before the block, she felt for it blindly with her open fingers. One who stood by her touched and guided her hand to the place it songht; on which she laid down her noble head, and saying "Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit," passed, with a prayer on her lips, into her everlasting rest. One more word-picture, and we must end our imperfect notice of this charming work-a picture that flashes and scintillates like the gems in Millais' "Eve of St. Agnes," while we gaze upon it: Though Raleigh was now lodged in the Tower, with three poor servants, living on £5 a-week for food and fire, the men in office considering him far too strong. His fame was rising, instead of falling. Great ladies from the court cast wistful glances at his room. Men from the streets and ships came crowding to the wharf whence they could see him walking on the wall. Raleigh was a sight to see, not only for his fame and name, but for his picturesque and dazzling figure. Fifty-one years old, tall, tawny, splendid, with the bronze of tropical suns on his leonine cheek, a bushy beard, a round moustache, and a ripple of curly hair, which his man Peter took an hour to dress. AD parelled as became such a figure in scarf and band of the richest colour and costliest stuff, in cap and plume worth a ransom, in jacket powdered with gems; his whole attire, from cap to shoe-strings, blazing with rubies, emeralds, and pearls, he was allowed to be one of the handsomest men alive. The council got alarmed at the crowds who came down to see him. Harvey was thought too careless, and a strict gaoler was appointed to abridge the very few liberties which Raleigh then enjoyed. We cannot afford space to follow the tragic story of this soldier-poet, seaman, historian, man of science, remarkable alike for the variety of his talents and his heroic enterprise and courage to its close. HANOVER SQUARE. (London: Ashdown and Parry, Hanover Square.)-The present number tions. First, we have "Patrouille, Ronde de of this musical miscellany is rich in contribuNeut," by D. Magnuss: an effective composi tion with considerable work in it for our musical readers. A "Spinning Song," the words by W. Storey, music by Virginia Gabriel, depends very much for its effect upon its characteristic accompaniment, and the expression of the singer. The change from one to five flats gives interest and versatility to the air. The "Dancing Sea Spray," by J. Theodore Trekell (a "morceau de salon"), is light and brilliant, as its name implies, with plenty of scope for that legerdemaine of fingering which young ladies with pretty hands delight in. "Autumn Song," by Henry Smart, is a graceful little melody, with a very effective accompaniment. NEW MUSIC. RESIGNATION. Song. Claribel. SWEET MOTHER. Song. W. H. Weiss. THE BELLE OF THE SEASON. Waltz. R. COOTE-(George Emery & Co., 408, Oxford Street). Longfellow's sweet minor poems, set by Claribel RESIGNATION, the first on our list, is one of to as sweet music. The air, like the words, is full of pathos and expression. It is written within easy compass for a mezzo soprano voice. SWEET MOTHER. Music by W. H. Weiss. Words by W. H. Bellamy, Esq. Like the former, it is written in three flats a key that insures a pleasing melody. The accompaniment very flowing and pretty. is THE BELLE OF THE SEASON. Valse. R. Coote. The author of the above is so well known to our musical friends as a skilful arranger of dance music, that his name will be a sufficient guarantee for the agreeableness of the valse before us; the time is well marked, and the music light and simple. THE THEATRES. THE NEW ORATORIO CONCERTS. Our Feuilleton for March left off with a reference to the production of another sensation drama of Mr. Watts Phillips', at the HOLBORN under the title" Fettered," by which, we suppose, was meant a sequential work, and correlative to the "Not Guilty" of the Queen's. We heard such an unsatisfactory account of "Fettered," that made us in no hurry to witness an apparently hurried and imperfect play; | and, indeed, after a very short run, we find that the piece has been withdrawn. The fate of Mr. Watts Phillips's last hasty production recalls an anecdote, by which we merely desire to show what a real sensation incident is, in contrast with a stage sensation one. Not long ago we were present at a criminal trial, held at Maidstone Assizes. The culprit, a short, stout, bullnecked, coarse-visaged fellow stood in the dock, charged with a ferocious and murderous assault on one of the warders or guards, placed over a gang of convicts at work in a quarry, near Chatham. The prisoner had diligently nursed a supposed injury he had received at the warder's hands. The latter had reported him for some misconduct, and had thus temporally increased the vigour of the punishment the man was undergoing as a felon. Shortly after this, on a certain day at the quarry, the prisoner with others was removing débris from the side of the excavation at a very elevated spot. While the warder was standing near the edge of the precipice, giving some directions, the prisoner passed with his barrow, and, as if by accident, tilted the barrow against the legs of the unsuspecting officer, who made a quick movement to escape the load of chalk covering him. At the same moment the convict was seen staggering against the officer, and the latter, thus losing his equilibrium, overbalanced himself, and rolled over into the yawning gulf. In the man's descent he caught at a beam projecting from the perpendicular side of the quarry, a few feet below, and succeeded in making good his hold of this precarious safeguard. Thus he swung from the beam until assistance came, which it fortunately did promptly. It was a moment of great suspense while his rescuers attempted to pass the noose of arope over the head and round the body of the warder. But it was done, and the man soon drawn up to terra firma. The convict who had caused the accident had been already removed into custody, and charged with the attempt to murder the warder in the atrocious manner stated. At the trial for his new offence the malefactor was sentenced only to two years' additional penal servitude beyond some five years he had yet to serve as an already condemned convict. Now, we have above described an actual incident in convict life, and we have brought it forward through our belief that it is precisely the incident that would be considered valuable to the dramatist in constructing some great sensational scene. But we doubt whether the professional dramatist would make the right use of the "situation" we have found for him, after all. He would not write a drama to lead up to the catastrophe, but he would more likely use the catastrophe to heighten the scenes of some drama which had nothing to do with the quarry scene, and the impending fate of the warder. We believe that those dramas (now of short duration), attempting to realize prison-life, convictlife, &c., owe their occasionally untimely fate to the haste with which they are concocted, the artificiality of their incidents, and their general unfaithfulness to truth and nature. We resume our usual record of theatrical events during the month, by noticing that a novelty of "mark and likelihood" has been produced by Mr. E. T. Smith and Dr. Marston at the LYCEUM, now under the direction of the former enterprising manager. On March 6th was produced a poetical play, by Dr. Westland Marston, entitled "Life for Life." This production has proved to be a literary work of high character, containing much fine poetry; but the test of acting has also shown that "Life for Life" is a play deficient in action and overlaid with diffuse dialogue. It is a more elaborate sort of "Douglas," that old Scotch play which has kept the stage so long, on account of the spirited and ingenuous part of Young Norval. The experience of a first night's representation of "Life for Life" showed that the time has gone by when audiences would listen patiently to soliloquies longer than those in the tragedy of "Hamlet," without being either anything like so poetical or philosophic-soliloquies such as Joanna Baillie introduced into her "Plays on the Passions." The tiresome and verbose "reflections" of the Scottish chief, Murdoch, the hero of "Life for Life," annoyed the audience, the more so since it was to be reasonably expected that such a warlike character would at least " I give the name of action" to his thoughts. Mr. Vezin performs the part of the Murdoch unexceptionally well. Mr. Coghlan as Oscar, the lover of Lillian, showed to advantage. Mr. Jordan was excellent as an old Highlander, and Miss Minnie Sidney gave a thorough artistic rendering to the part of Kenelm, an important feature in the drama. "OLD DRURY" has completed its short month's interregnum devoted to the Shakesperian drama, triumphantly. The répertoire was the old familiar one; but Mr. Phelps has been assisted this year by strange rivals and debutantes. Mr. Charles Dillon is not an adequate supporter of Mr. Phelps in "Othello;" nor qualified to enact, efficiently we think, either Othello or Iago. To pit the provincial actor against the town actor was uncomplimentary to Mr. Phelps, and damaging to the reputation of Mr. Dillon himself. It is by comparison that the true qualities of the artists become manifest. Mr. Phelps is a conscientious actor, and our best tragedian. Mr. Dillon is, in all essentials, a conventional actor. The iron that has entered his soul" has been driven there by the stage manager, not by the gods, who "have made men poetical." "Macbeth" has been repeatedly acted with Mr. Dillon as Macbeth (the ordinary stage Macbeth), and Mrs. Howard Paul as Lady Macbeth! Mrs. Paul's engagement was probably more due to her Hecate (which she doubles with the part of Lady Macbeth) than her histrionic powers. But Mrs. Howard Paul certainly did her utmost to please her public. As a singing actress she was all that could be desired in Hecate. A provincial actor named King, from the Dublin boards, obtained a début at Drury Lane in the course of the Shakesperian revivals. His Hamlet, without manifesting anything more than thorough knowledge of the actor's art, was a creditable impersonation. Mr. King has subsequently enacted Richelieu, with much power. He is a performer we should like to see permanently retained on the London stage, to which we are sure he would become a conspicuous ornament. For Easter a new piece, founded on Victor Hugo's powerful but highly-eccentric novel of "Les Miserables," has been produced at Drury Lane: thus we have a competitor against the "Yellow Passport" at the Olympic, a piece which has already had a long run. The Christmas pantomime has been revived at Drury Lane, without, however, its harlequinade. It certainly constitutes as good an afterpiece as could be selected. E. H. MALCOLM. SAINT JAMES'S HALL ORATORIO CONCERTS. At last we have a rival to the Sacred Harmonic Society, which has laid down the law for Sacred music uninterruptedly for more than thirty years. Although the Society is professedly amateur, it has flourished under the ægis of "high professionals," and had M. Costa for its Director. The" Sacred Harmonic Society" has, we believe, always lived up to its income at Exeter Hall, and spent the greater part of its money upon its professional artistes, while the amateur “ 700” themselves have always had to pay for singing instead of being paid. Between £6,000 and £7,000 a-year, as we are informed, is about the income of the Sacred Harmonic Society, much of which goes into the pockets of Italian and other eminent vocalists. The New St. James's Hall Oratorio Concerts, kind of basis to that of the Sacred Harmonic as an institution, has an altogether different Society. Its choir is professional; its vocalists is not so numerous as that of M. Costa or Mr. and instrumentalists are the saine, The chorus Martin at Exeter Hall; but it is the conviction of the musicians who manage "Oratorio Concerts," that a limited number of voices for executants as the hundreds of amateurs who a choir may constitute as efficient a body of assemble round the big organ of Exeter Hall. We have witnessed two out of the six announced "performances of standard Oratorios and other sacred works" at St. James's Hall. The season began with Handel's Oratorio of "Jephtha," and this noble work was followed by Mendelssohn's "Elijah." Both Oratorios were most efficiently executed under the able direction of Mr. Joseph Barnby, before stylish and immensely numerous audiences. Elijah" was succeeded on the 23rd ultimo (in Holy-week) by a most appropriate selection, namely, Handel's chef d'oeuvre-the Oratorio of "The Messiah." One of the principal features of the Oratorio Concerts has been the introduction of the continental pitch (le diapason normal) in the treatment of the instrumental music. Whatever the advantages may be to musicians by the introduction of a lower key-note on the English musical stage, we question whether the generality of audiences have been able to detect the difference. Suffice it, that Oratorio music has been better performed than ever at the St. James's Hall Sacred Concerts, under the able direction of Mr. Joseph Barnby, a musician more au fait with choir music than any conductor we are acquainted with. Mr. Barnby's aim has been to gain effect to Oratorio music not by excessive numbers of executants, but by well-balanced power, and thus to keep in due proportion the solo parts with the choir and orchestra. Although Mr. Sims Reeves has, as usual, disappointed (indisposition causing him to break his engagement), the Concerts have nevertheless been well performed by first-rate artistes, including Mesdames Rudersdorff and Lemmens-Sherrington, Mdlle. Drasdill, Miss Banks, Miss Julia Elton, Signor Foli, Herr Stepan, Mr. Montem Smith, &c. the 12th of next month. The classical "Stabat Mater" is promised for E. H. M. THE GIPSIES GIPSIES OF ART. (Translated from Henry Murger's "Scenes de la Boheme.") BY CHARLES ASTOR BRISTED. THE CROWN OF CHARLEMAGNE. At nine and a-half, Mr. Gustave Colline, hyperphysic philosopher, will open a discussion with Mr. Schaunard, on the Comparative Merits of Philosophy and Metapolitics.* To prevent any collision between the disputants, they will be tied together. At ten, Mr. Tristan, a literary man, will recount the story of his first love, accompanied on the piano by Mr. Schaunard. At ten and a-half, reading a Report on the Abolition of Capital Punishment, by Tragedy (continued). "At eleven, Account of a Cassowary Hunt by an Eastern Prince.† * If metaphysics is what comes after physics, according to etymology (though in practice I have generally found to be what comes after liquor), this new science must be what comes after politics. What in the name of every thing awful is that? The deluge is to come after some politicians, according to Prince Metternich and Lord Maidstone. The structure of this sentence does not make it quite clear whether the Eastern Prince was actually present to relate the Cassowary Hunt, or whether his performance was limited to hunting the animal, and the account of the hunt was to be another person's work. A somewhat singular ambiguity I recollect in a magazine title some years ago: Lines on a Lady Slandered, by Barry Cornwall; which one of our newspapers reprinted so as to cast a grave imputation on the poet, thus: Lines on a Lady, Slandered by Barry Cornwall. PART II. "At twelve, Mr. Marcel, historical painter, will suffer his eyes to be bandaged, and extemporize in crayon the meeting of Napoleon and Voltaire in the Elysian Fields. Mr. Rodolphe will simultaneously extemporize a poetic parallel between the author of Zaire and the author of the Battle of Austerlitz. "At twelve and a-half, Mr. Colline, in a modest deshabille, will imitate the athletic sports of the Fourth Olympiad. At one in the morning, reading of the Report on the Abolition of Capital Punishment, by Tragedy (re-continued), and subscription for the benefit of the tragic authors, whose occupation is to be gone. "At two, quadrilles will be organized and continued till morning. "At six, sunrise and final chorus. "During the whole continuance of the performance all the ventillators will be in play. "N.B.-Any person attempting to read or write verses will be immediately handed over to the police. "N.B. 2nd.-Gentlemen are requested not to pocket the candle-ends." Two days after, copies of this invitation were circulating in the third storeys of art and literature, and creating a profound sensation. Nevertheless, there were some of the guests who doubted the splendours announced by our two friends. "I have grave suspicions," said one of the sceptical. "I was at Rodolphe's Wednesdays sometimes, when he lived at Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne. You could only sit down metaphorically, and had nothing but water to drink, and not filtered at that." Now, a word as to the origin of this party, which was causing so much astonishment in the Transpontine world of art. For about a year, Marcel and Rodolphe had been talking of this sumptuous gala, which was always to come off next Saturday, but disagreeable circumstances had forced their promise to run the round of fifty-two weeks; so that they were in the condition of not being able to move without encountering some ironical remark from their enough to demand its fulfilment! The thing acquaintances, some of whom were even rash was beginning to take the character of a standing joke against them; the two friends resolved to put an end to this by liquidating their engagement. Accordingly they sent out the above invitation. "Now," said Rodolphe, "there is no retreat. We have burned our ships. Eight days are left us to procure the hundred francs indispensable to doing the thing properly." R |