The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1826-04-04 00:00:00

ADELPHI THEATRE.

Mr. Yates opened his Budget of Reminiscences at this
theatre last night. A bold attempt, truly, when the space
between the Adelphi and Exeter 'Change is literally
choked up with carriages, whose owners are devout wor-
shippers of that veritable mime, Charles Mathews. Be-
tween these two candidates, however, for imitative renown,
there is not likely to exist any rivalry, and they may both
flourish together. Yates knows well how far Mathews
will leave him behind in any competition that might ensue,
rind it would have been a weak and idle attempt to break
a lance with him. Mathews is a sharp, caustic, and ori-
ginal humorist—a keen observer and lively recorder of the
frailties and follies of men ; and so elastic in his motions,
that he appears to bear quicksilver in his joints. He is, be-
sides an old public favourite, the lion of April, whose whims
and fooleries are as regularly expected in spring as cross-
buns at Easter or turkeys at Christmas. Yates. on the
other hand, is the disciple and follower of the other—zea-
lous in his studies, no doubt, but wanting that happy tact
of copying the humours and eccentricities of individuals
with that careless and glowing pencil which to peculiarly
distinguishes his master. The exhibition of last night fully
discovered the strength and weakness of Yates'a powers.
Many of his Etchings of Lim and thoracic,- were shrewd,
satirical, and humorous., and given throughout with that
glee and frolic of mind which indicated the capacity as
well as the inclination to amuse his auditors ; but then his
strokes of wit as often missed as they hit the mark, and
poor Joe Miller had to yield up a few of his oldest jokes
in order to eke out the " budget." In the outset Mr.
Yates disclaimed all intention of drawing on the " Bank of
Merriment" which his friend had ertablieluel at another
house—his being a mere Lilliput speculation. Then
comes a colloquy between a Mr. Mogg, a gouty citizen,
and a•Mrs. Mont, a West Indian, who is an admirer of.
routes. The Cit denounces monopoly-rogues (monopolo-
gues)—compares them to a cabriolet drawn by one horse,
and laughs at the idea of the Stock-Exchange being te-
nanted by Rothschild alone. Terry is brought in as a
colloquist, and imitated to the life. Mr. Yates now ,
sketches his juvenile days at the Charter-house-school,
where he is tutored into classical knowledge by a literal,
cobbler, who, by the way, is a mere copy from Goldsmith s
political shoemaker. Ile it latterly obliged to consult Mr.
Damper Yates—a second cousin of the family—upon the
choice of a profession, and he, being a starched, old, queue-
lovine bachelor, throws cold water on all the propositions
of the young enthusiast. The latter suggests the stage—
" The stage !" quoth Mr. Damper," do you mean the stage
to Kennington?" " No, no, Sir—the theatre." Aye,
aye, the sta-a-ge; a vagabondish trade, generally ending
in no bond at all." But genius is not to be damped; and
Yates gets himself introduced at a masquerade as Master
Somno, in which character he puts out Harlequin's eye, and
treads on the Muse's mantle. Here he meets with his
friend Mathews, to whom he pays a warm heartfelt
tribute of gratitude. Ile travels in company with him to
Boulogne, in order to test his mimic powers, and at Dover
encounters one of the best characters in his gallery—a Mr.
Ft fix Fuel, a quiet, matter-of-fact, simple gentleman, who
detests metaphors and cramp allusions, and has eschewed
reading ever since lie learnt that the only work he read—
Gay's Fables—was false from beginning to end. This ex-
cellent personage has ventured to Dover for the sole pur-
pose of viewing the sea. When there he creeps slowly
to the beach, dips a finger into the salt water, puts it
into his mouth, spits it out again, and walks off,
highly pleased with the adventure. At Dover also
the dramatic pilgrims encounter Tom Traveller, who
has read " Robinson Crusoe" so frequently, that his
brain has become crazed with the notion of finding out a de-
sert; and he is in pursuit of a Juan Fernandez, with a tele-
scope, two guns, and a little black, dirty urchin, whom he
designates a Friday. IVhile at Boulogne the travellers
visit Joe Kelly, who is tormented by his dog if ; and
after a kind reception in that asylum of wrinkled coquettes
and superannuated beaus, they return to the wooden walls
of Old England— a designation which puzzles Mr. Felix
Fact, who never saw these " wooden walls," nor heard
when they had been broken down. Yates proceeds gaily
in his theatrical career, and has the honour of charming
the elegant company that assemble at Vauxhall, where he'
meets with a cordial reception and two compound fractures ;
and instead of being borne away on the title of popular fa-
vour, is mortified to find himself carried off on a shutter.
The song of " Vauxhall Gardens," which follows, is full of
life and caricature; and the trip to the " .tagic Gardens"
told with inimitable spitit. Here the credulous Mr. Felix
Fact is again introduced to us, who grieves to hear that
the title is running up—his pace being sedate and ambling;
and that a barrel-organ had been consumed in the fire at
Cumberland-gardens, because the engines could not play
upon it. The old joke of 11qjor Breeches is squeezed into
the recitative of this song, although it does not suffer by
the resurrection. In l'art H. we become acquainted with
a Mr. Prosper Sanguine, who towers over misfortune as
the steeple does over the chancel of a church, and has
evidently insured his life in the Hope. No calamity or
cross-accident disconcerts his visionary prospects, nor can
any objection dissipate them. Macadamization is de-
nounced in his pretence,—" Oh !" quoth Mr. Prosper
Sanguine, " if it create dust in summer, we will have
Lundy-foot for nothing; and if the streets be flooded in
winter, navigation will he encouraged." Mrs. Puulina
Pry, the mother of the redoubtable Pahl, next figures on
the tapir; and really, we must own, that she bears away the li
palm from her son. She is an argue-eyed daughter of'
Eve—an eternal visitor at her neighbours houses, scat-
tering ruin around her by " nods, and winks, and wreathed
smiles." If a tea-caddy be out of its wonted place, she
purses her mouth, and hems a suspicion about it; if tea-'
spoons be substituted for dessert-spoons, she closes her eyes
and mutters something about the hardship of the times;
and if the husband be from home, she speaks of " persons
obliged to take the air." Mr. Yates now briefly recounts
his country excursions, when he played Rover, in irild
Oats, with a strolling company, the receipts of the night
being only one pound seventeen shillings and three pence,
and met with an octogenarian performer who spent many
hours before the glass, in order to wrinkle his face for the
part of Henry VI. The "entertainment" gradually droops
until the description of the "Theatrical Fund Dinner,"
when the attraction is revived by several skilful imitations
of the leading stars at this festival, and a great deal of
lively gossip. With this sketch the etchings come to a
close. The third part—for here the mystic trio must be
kept up—consists of a " Monopolologue," entitled Mr.
Chairman; the name of which is as much connected with
the subject as tooth-ache is with the point of a sword. In
spite of the fatigue of the previous parts, Mr. Yates went
through the various transformations in this 'piece with won-
derful adroitness; but when we say this, we bestow all the
praise which this " Monopolologue" deserves. Upon the
whole, as a performance of the kind which Mr. Yates has
volunteered requires great exertion of mind as well as of
body, to prevent the leaden god from sealing the eyes of
the auditors, he is entitled to a liberal allowance of praise
for the budget he has produced; and if there is in it less
originality, less work for the fancy, and less whim and
I anecdote, than in the " At Homes" and " Invitations" of
Mathews, it ought to be kept in mind that the one is sow-
ing the seeds of his fame, while the other is reaping its
rich golden harvest.

Yesterday the Princess Augusta came to town for the
season.

ARCHBISHOP ABBOTT.—In 1618, King James pub-
lished a declaration, which he ordered to be read in
churches, permitting sports and pastimes on the Lord's
Day. This gave great uneasiness to Archbishop Abbott,
who, happening to he at Croydon when it came thither,
had the courage to forbid its being read. This distinguished
prelate, when his health began to decline, used to go oc-
casionally to Ilampshite in the hummer for the sake of re-
creation. Being invited by Lord %OUCH to hunt in his
park at Bratnshill, as he was one day taking that exercise,
he had the misfortune accidentally to kill the keeper, by
an arrow from a cross-bow which he shot at one of the
deer. This accident threw him into a deep melancholy,
and he ever after kept a monthly fast on Tuesday, the day
on which the fatal mischance happened. He also settled
an annuity of 201. per annum on the widow. There were
several persons who took advantage of this misfortune, to
endeavour to ruin him in the King's favour; but on the
event being told to him, his Majesty said, " An angel
might have had the same mishap."