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EUROPEAN MAGAZINE,

LONDON

AND

REVIEW,

FOR JULY, 1817.

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A BRIEF MEMOIR OF

MR. WILLIAM BLANCHARD,

OF THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.

WITH A PORTRAIT, ENGRAVED BY HENRY COOK, FROM AN ORIGINAL PAINTING.]

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits, and their entrances,
And each man in his time plays many parts.

HE correctness of this celebrated

SHAKSPEARE.

by whom he was brought up, and in

Taxiom is so palpably manifest, structed in his business. At the age of

as to require neither the aid of elo-
quence nor of argument to evidence
its truth. Every passing circumstance,
every event in life, from the first rest-
lessness of infancy cradled in its
nurse's arms," to the last decrepitude
of extreme old age, oppressed with
"second childishness and mere obli-
vion," brings with it this lesson, and
adds one other proof of the justness
of the simile. Nor are the characters
of real life less various, or less dis-
tinguished, than are the imaginary per-
sonages of the Drama, where Fiction
"Holds as it were the mirror up to Nature,
Shews vice her own image,
Virtue her own feature,

And the very age and body of the time
Its form and pressure."

A contemplation of the stage naturally induces a reference to those, by the exertion of whose professional talent the drama is upheld and promoted; and amongst whom the original of our present Portrait is particularly distinguished.

WILLIAM BLANCHARD, the subject of this brief sketch, was born at York in the year 1769; in which city his uncle was an eminent printer, and proprietor of the York Chronicle, and

seventeen, and in the year 1786, he left his home, for the profession of an actor, and joined a company of comedians at Buxton, in Derbyshire, then under the management of a Mr. Welsh.

He there made his first appearance, under the assumed name of Bentley, in the part of Allen-a-Dale, in the comic opera of Robin Hood, when the reception he experienced was so highly flattering, as at once determined him to adhere to the theatre, and abjure the printing-office. Meeting with uniform encouragement, he was, however, induced, after the lapse of a year or two, to re-assume his family name of Blanchard, and, strange to relate to those who now know him, soon took the lead in the heroic walks of the Drama, as the representative of Romeo, Barnwell, Young Norval, and other parts of a similar description.

Elevated with success, he soon afterwards became a Manager, and opened theatres on his own account at Penrith, in Cumberland; Hexham, in Northum berland; and Barnard Castle, and Bishop's Auckland, in Durham. These schemes were, however, speedily relinquished, as their result was little else than trouble, anxiety, and disappointment.

In the year 1793, he was engaged by

Mr. Brunton, of Norwich, where he had an ample scope for the exercise of his talents in almost every varied range of the Drama. In particular, his performance of rustic characters, old men, smart servants, sailors, &c. procured him considerable applause, and rendered him an established favourite throughout that circuit. His growing reputation attracted the potice of the Covent-garden managers, and he was immediately engaged for five years, commencing with the season of 1800-1.

Mr. Blanchard accordingly made his debut on the metropolitan stage on the 1st of October in the former year, in the character of Acres, in the Rivals, and that of Crack, in the musical entertainment of the Turnpike Gate; in both of which parts he acquitt, bimself to the universal satisfaction of the audience.

The variety of characters which he has since assumed, in play, farce, and opera, enables us now to speak more at large as to his professional exertions; and we select his delineation of the Marquis de Grand Chateau, in the Cabinet, as entitled to our most unqualified approbation. He enters with the utmost skill into every lineament of the old beau, and pourtrays bis peculiarities with the nicest discrimination and the purest taste. It must be evident, that no parts try the strength of an actor's genius so much as those of SHAKSPEARE; and it is possible for a Performer to get public credit in sustaining many modern characters, without being able to do common justice to the labours of our immortal Bard; Mr. Blanchard has, however, the ability to decorate the beauties of the Poet with Nature's colours, and his personification of Fluellen, in Henry the Fifth, ever calls forth those reiterated plaudits of a London audience may be considered a sanction to our opinion. It must, indeed, be pronounced throughout an excellent performance. His Pistol, in the second part of Henry the Fourth, is also given in warm and animated tints, but free from caricature and extravagance. Mungo, in the musical entertainment of the Padlock, he plays with great humour, and sings his songs with the best possible effect. There are also a variety of other characters, as Mene nius, Polenius, Elbene, Sir Hugh Evans, Sir Andrew Ague-Check, Hensel, &v

&c. in which we have seen Mr. Blanchard with great satisfaction, and which induce us to consider him a valuable acquisition to a London stage.

A correct mediocrity has one emineat advantage over the most extravagant humour; it entitles its possessor to more personal respect; and however the general lives of actors may have reduced this respect, or the talents of certain performers may have rendered it less necessary, it really gains more for him than the majority of his contemporaries may be, perhaps, willing to imagine. It is always pleasing, therefore, to see a Performer, who, with cousiderable powers of buffoonery, can so far respect himself, his author, and his audience, as to keep his spirits within just bounds, and be rather proud of copying nature than vain enough to remind us only and eternally of himself. For this reason, the unassuming and unaffected nature of Mr. Blanchard is always welcome to the judicious.

The performance which has chiefly fixed his popularity, is the character already noticed in the opera of the Cabinet, in which he certainly presents a very amusing picture of a stiff dotard, with his affectation of energetic dig nity and pompous gallantry, which is so well contrasted with the ludicrous position of his figure. This performance, indeed, is so truly original, that his successors in the part have been able to add nothing new to its representation; and with every requisite allowance for first impressions, they certainly are all the less amusing in proportion as they either advance or recede from the style of Mr. Blanchard..

We have only now to notice Mr. B. in private life, where we are most happy to bear testimony to those many estimable qualities, both of head and heart, which have secured to him the deserved respect of all those, whose intercourse has enabled them to appreciate his many claims to their friendship and regard. Mr. Blanchard's conduct off the stage, as well as on, has always entitled him to participate in that esteem which is ever accorded to public talent when joined to private virtue.

Mr. B. has, we believe, been twice married, and has at present five children living.

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THE

FRONTISPIECE.

OPERA-HOUSE COLONNADE, AND WATERLOO-PLACE, PALL-MALL.

[WITH AN ENGRAVING.]

AMONG the recent alterations of the

metropolis, the subject of our present FRONTISPIECE is peculiarly distinguished as combining elegance of design with utility of improvement. The unfinished exterior of the front of the Opera House towards the Haymarket has been, indeed, too long an object of regret; but which regret is destined, we would now hope, at no distant period, to be entirely removed by the speedy completion of what has already been so efficiently commenced. The present alteration consists of a row of spacious houses erected at the stage end of the Theatre, in front of which is an elegant Colonnade, supported by hollow pillars of cast iron, and lighted with gas.

As the Opera House itself, however, has never been finished according to the designs of the Architect, it can only be said, that, with respect to its interior, it is one of the finest Theatres in Europe. The present form of the boxes, and their ornamental beauties, embody the most lively images of scenic grandeur and magnificence; their fronts are painted in compartments, on a blue ground, with broad gold frames, and their ornaments exhibit festoons and wreaths of flowers sustained by Cupids, leopards, lions, gryphons, and other fabulous creations. The dome represents a sky, in which a flame-colour prevails, and the coup d'œil of the whole is rich without heaviness. The measurement of the audience part of the house is within two feet of the dimensions of the great theatre at Milan; the stage being sixty feet in length from the back to the orchestra, eighty in breadth from wall to wall, and fortysir feet across from box to box: the pit will hold eight hundred persons; and each box in the five tiers is so constructed as to contain six, all of whom command a good view of the stage. The gallery, containing seventeen benches, will hold eight hundred persons, and has behind a lobby for refreshments. This theatre usually opens for the season in January, and continues its representations on the Tuesday and Saturday (and occasionally Thursday) of every week, until July or August The Italian Opera House on this site was first opened in the year 1704, was destroyed by fire in

1789, and the present theatre erected on the same spot in 1790.

The

With respect to the more distant objects in our Engraving, the name of WATERLOO PLACE" has been given to the opening in front of Carlton House, appearing in the Plate beyond the Opera House Colonnade. buildings here, however, are unfortu nately stuccoed, instead of being cased with stone, and are already of the shades between white and black, the smoky and the dirty grey. Whether that side of Pall Mall shall be a good thoroughfare, must depend upon the future mode of paving. To afford safety to pedestrians, it has been proposed, that the foot pavement should be so constructed as to leave a space for carriages not wider than the breadth of Pall-Mall, and that to distinguish between the two pavements, lamps should be placed on stone pedestals, in situations sufficiently prominent and elevated to mark the distinction. Feeling as we do, however, in common with all who boast the birthright of our country, a pride of soul, and a reverence of admiration, elicited by the mention even of the name of Waterloo

we could have wished that the pile of buildings destined to bear the appellation of that unequalled triumph, had been more worthy of the honour thus conferred, and that the structures had been, both in design and in completion, every way more deserving of their des tined fame, by appearing likely to transmit that fame to posterity.

MR. EDITOR,

N the several books called the Tu

many questions proposed, with the answers to them, for the exercise of the student; but there are several amongst them which cannot be solved by any rule which those books contain.I am, therefore, desirous, through the medium of your Magazine, to see some general rule, by which all questions relating to something done or per. formed in time by the help or two or more agents may be answered.

By proposing, therefore, the following case, when you have room for it, perhaps some of your learned Correspondents may be inclined to favour me with the investigation of a rule to perform it by,

I bought three artillery horses, Dobbin, Jolly, and Punch, for 2007.—Dobbin could draw a piece of ordnance froņi Woolwich to the Tower in 10 hours;

with the assistance of Jolly it was done in 6 hours; and when Punch assisted Dobbin without Jolly, they did it in 4 hours. What was the value of each horse? I am, your humble servant, Greenwich, July 8, 1817.

LEGENDS OF LAMPIDOSA.

COLLECTED BY A RECLUSE.

(Continued from Vol. LXXI. page 485.)

A

THE BELGIAN.

The great clock of a noted inn at Brussels had struck twelve, when the half-clothed waiting-damsel ran into one of the most, crouded dormitories, and shaking a sleeper's shoulder, exclaimed P. M. in his ear, "Monsieur !-monsieur has mistaken the room-this bed is engaged to a lady."- This bed!" returned the angry traveller-" this vile comMust a man be disturbed even in position of rushes and fir-shavings! purgatory!"-The soubrette, arranging the stiff wings of her cap, began an oration on the lady's prior claims, and the guest professed his belief that women belong to one of the nine classes of demons supposed by a Flemish doctor. "Sir," said a young student from Gottingen, "it is some consolation to know that every great man for the last forty-two centuries has been equally tormented."-" A glorious comfort, truly!" retorted the grumbler, "that three or four hundred fools have been remembered by greater fools than themselves! I want neither Skenkius, nor Jacobus de Dondin, nor Grunnius Coracotta, to tell me why women love to teaze and a goose to go barefoot."

LBERT ALTENBERG, one of the richest citizens of Brussels, lay on his death-bed with no consolation, except that he had a sou capable of atoning for the errors into which avarice had betrayed him. "Herman!" he said, as the young man sat by his bed studying the last expression of his glazing eyes "I leave you wealthy, and your uncles, if they are still living, have no other heir-but we had once a sister-read these papers, and do justice to my memory."-Herman assented by a silent pressure of the hand, which clung to his till it became lifeless. Soon after his father's funeral, an extraordinary change appeared in his character. Instead of the hospitality, the beneficence, and spirit of enterprize, which old Altenberg had been studious to repress, the heir discovered even more frugality and caution than his father. He converted all the scattered wealth he inherited into one fund, but its depository was a profound secret. At length its amount was doubted, and the reserve of his demeanor seemed the consequence of necessary retrenchment. Presently his fellow-citizens discovered that he spent no more than the moderate sum required for mere subsistence; and it was easier to discern that he was poor than that he might be virtuous. His friends gradually changed their assiduous courtesy into those cold and stately condescensions which are practised to humble the receiver. During two or three years he continued to frequent societies where his entrance was noticed at last only by a scornful smile or a careJess familiarity, which he affected to receive with indolent indifference. But the result of suspected poverty was not unfelt, and he had not courage enough to contemn it. He left Brussels in se-cret, without leaving any trace of his route, as some supposed to join the Emperor Joseph's army as a volunteer, or, as many more believed, to perish by suicide.

:

This torrent was interrupted in his way down-stairs by meeting the cause of his disturbance, a plain ancient gentlewoman, whose ugliness restored him to good-humour. Grace or beauty would have made him furious, by lessening his pretext for spleen and as angry men usually submit to any evil they are allowed to murmur at, the mal content seated himself in "grim repose by the kitchen-fire. There some Belgian soldiers were congratulating themselves on their future quarters at the farm of a decrepit and solitary widow, celebrated for wealth and ava rice. Their new auditor, concealed in a recess, listened to their ribaldry, perhaps for the first time, without disgust, because his misanthropy found an excuse in the vices of others. fore the dawn of a morning over-cast with Belgian fogs, a diligence left this inn-door, containing only M. Von Grumboldt and one female passenger. Our traveller, with no small chagrin, recogmised the close coif and grey redingote of his midnight disturber, while she quietly considered his singular aspect. Very little of his face was visible, except the contemptuous curl of his under lip, and the prominence of that feature which is said to express disdain. A broad hat, enormous boots,

Be

and a coarse wide wrapping-coat, de prived his figure of all symmetry or character, except that of a busy and important burgo-master. As the daylight increased, M. Von Grumboldt discovered indications of curiosity, shrew ishness, and other feminine virtues, in the thin lips and wrinkled forehead of his meagre companion, especially when she ventured an inquiry respecting the next inn. A cup of coffee at Quatre. Bras, since so celebrated in military annals, removed a few furrows from his brow, and enabled him to perceive that it was prepared by a fair and well-shaped hand, decorated with a ring of some value. But he chose to sleep, till suddenly seeing the place of his destination, he alighted from the diligence with no other ceremony than an abrupt and scowling farewell. His humble fellow-traveller continued her journey a few hours longer, and when the carriage stopped at the end of a lonely lane, among the corn-fields which surrounded her residence, she entered it on foot, without any attendant. Though the night was far advanced, no one seemed to have awaited her coming, and the Brussels diligence was soon far out of sight. Lighted by a full harvest-moon, she was select ing her steps with Flemish neatness and nonchalance along the solitary avenue, when a man's shadow crossed her path. She looked up calmly, though not without a sense of danger, and saw the traveller who had called himself Von Grumboldt. His lingering pace and muffled figure might have justified suspicion, but she only said, "We are still travellers, it seems, on the same road.”"Do you walk alone, and at this hour, to the White Farm ?" returned Von Grumboldt, in a low voice-" Take my arm, then-we may be useful to each other."-Hesitation would have been danger, and she yielded to the offer without shrinking, though the pressure of her arm against a concealed pistol, and the motion of a sabre as she walked by his side, seemed to reveal his true purpose." It is strange," she said, trembling, "that I see no lanthorn's light, and no one here to meet me!"

Her escort was silent till they reached the square court yard of the farm, sheltered, according to Belgian fashion, on three sides by the mansion and its wings. All was desolately dark, and the defenceless mistress, gathering courage from her danger, said, in a frank tone,

Let us enter-though my servant is heedless, and probably absent, I shall find enough to furnish a supper for my protector:"-" Dare you trust me, then!" returned Von Grumboldt, in a tone which betrayed strong emotion "You have not wronged yourself but this is no place for you-here is but one concealment among the hollow elms round the dove-cot.""You are no stranger here!" she exclaimed, firmly. Trust me only a little longer," he answered-" but wait for my signal."-The courageous wo man took her station in the hollow elm to which he pointed, and his gentle knock at the farin-door was an swered from the window by a ruffianvoice-"Why so late, Caspar? It will be day before we find her hoards."Von Grumboldt's reply was a shrill whistle, and six men concealed among the elms rushed through the unbarred door into the farm-house, while their guide seized the ruffian admitted by a treacherous servant. He and his accomplice were soon in irons, while the armed stranger returned to seek the mistress of the mansion he had preserved from plunder." These are my soldiers, madam," said he, in a gentler tone;" and you will not refuse their colonel permission to be your guest. I heard the business of this night planned by the felous who designed to execute it; therefore I chose to assist in its defeat myself."-The modest Flemish farmeress looked at her preserver with a respectful silence more affecting than words, and taking the diamond ring from her finger, offered it to his. I have not forgotten your invitation," said the Colonel, resuming his blunt austerity while he brushed a sudden moisture from his eyes-"you will find a voracious guest at your supper-table."-Without blushing at the humility of the task, our heroine arranged the ample contents of her store-room on her best table, and provided an abundant sideboard for her new visitor's attendants. A chamber, whose neat furniture had chiefly proceeded from her own distaff, was allotted to the Colonel, who would not have chosen to confess, even on the rack, how many tender and deep regrets haunted his pillow. Almost at day-break he rose, and found his hostess busied in her simple domestic avocations." I do not ask you," said she, "to admire my garden-vines, or the beautiful slope of this valley, for they

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