In France, the genuine power and authority which the women exert, and have long exerted, in swaying the course of public opinion in regard to a vast variety of subjects, are sufficient, were there nothing more, to make one excuse a great deal of their petulance and presumption. And then there is a light graceful ease about the manner of their trespasses, which would carry off the indignation of a Diogenes himself. How is it possible to feel any serious displeasure against a pretty creature that comes tripping up to you with a fan in her hand, and seems quite indifferent whether you ask her to dance a quadrille with you, or sit down by her side, and discuss the merits of the last roman? The truth is, however, that the French ladies in general talk about things they do understand something about or at least, which it is easy and natural to imagine, may be interesting to their feelings. But what say you to the Scottish Blue-Stockings, whose favourite topics are the Resumption of Cash-payments, the great question of Borough Reform, and Corn-Bill? They are certainly the very flour of their sex. "Ohe! jam satis est"-I would not be badgered as Mr. Jeffrey is for a moiety of his reputation.

I was at another party of somewhat the same kind last night, where, however, I had the satisfaction of seeing several more characters of some note, and, therefore, I repented not my going. Among others, I was introduced to Mrs. Grant of Loggan, the author of the Letters from the Mountains, and other well-known works. Mrs. Grant is really a woman of great talents and acquirements, and might, without offence to any one, talk upon any subject she pleases. But I assure you, any person that hopes to meet with a BlueStocking, in the common sense of the term, in this lady, will feel sadly disappointed. She is as plain, modest, and unassuming, as she could have been had she never stepped from the village, whose name she has rendered so celebrated. Instead of entering on any long common-place discussions, either about politics, or political economy, or any other of the hackneyed subjects of tea-table talk in Edinburgh, Mrs. Grant had the good sense to perceive, that a stranger, such as I was, came not to hear disquisitions, but to gather useful information; and she therefore directed her conversation entirely to the subject which she herself best understandswhich, in all probability, she understands better than almost any one else and which was precisely one of the subjects, in

regard to which I felt the greatest inclination to hear a sensible person speak-namely, the Highlands. She related, in a very simple, but very graphic manner, a variety of little anecdotes and traits of character, with my recollections of which I shall always have a pleasure in connecting my recollections of herself. The sound and rational enjoyment I derived from my conversation with this excellent person, would, indeed, atone for much more than all the Blue-Stocking sisterhood have ever been able to inflict upon my patience. Ever yours,

P. M.

LETTER XXVI.

TO THE SAME.

I REMEMBER when Kean, in the first flush of his reputation, announced his intention of spending Passion-week in Edinburgh, to have seen a paragraph extracted from a Scots newspaper, in which this circumstance was commented on in a way that I could scarcely help regarding as a little ridiculous. I cannot recall the exact words; but the northern editor expressed himself somewhat in this style-" We are happy to hear it rumoured, that the celebrated new actor, Mr. Kean, proposes making his first appearance on our boards during the approaching holidays. He no doubt feels much anxiety to have the favourable opinion of the London public confirmed and sanctioned by the more fastidious and delicate discrimination, which, as all the sons of Thespis are well aware, belongs to the enlightened and refined, although candid and generous, audience of our metropolis."

What the measure of Mr. Kean's 'anxiety on this occasion might really have been, I possess no means of learning; but from all that I have seen and heard of the Edinburgh audience, I must confess I do not think, were I myself an actor, their favourable verdict would be exactly the crowning and finishing grace, for which I should wait with any very supernatural timidity of expectation. That they should for a moment dream of themselves as being entitled to claim weight and authority, equal (to say nothing of superior) to what is claimed and received by the great audience of the British

capital-this is a thing, at the first glance, so superabounding in absurdity, that I could scarcely have believed it to be actually the case, unless, from innumerable little circumstances and expressions which have fallen under my own observation, I had been compelled to do so. How old this ridiculous prejudice of self-complacency may be, I know not; but I suspect that it, like many other ridiculous prejudices of the place, has been fostered and pampered into its present luxuriant growth by the clamorous and triumphant success of the Edinburgh Review. Accustomed to see one or two of their fellow citizens sitting in undisputed pre-eminence above all the authors of England, it must have seemed a small matter that they themselves should claim equal awe from the actors of England, when these ventured to think of strutting their hour on this side of the "Ideal Line." However this may be, there is no doubt the notion does exist, and the Edinburgh audience bona fide consider themselves as the most polite assemblage of theatrical critics that the world has produced since the days of Athens. I think Aristophanes, could he look up and see them, would observe a very sad change from bis own favourite σοφωτατοι θεαται.

There is no doubt, that the size of such a theatre as the Edinburgh one is much more favourable to accuracy of criticism, than a house of larger dimensions can be. It is somewhat larger than the Hay-Market; but it is quite possible to observe the minutest workings of an actor's face from the remotest parts of the pit or the boxes; and the advantages, in point of hearing, are, of course, in somewhat the same measure. The house, however, bas newly been lighted up in a most brilliant manner with gas; and this, I should think, must be any thing rather than an improvement, in so far as purposes, truly theatrical, are concerned. Nothing, indeed, can be more beautiful than the dazzling effect exhibited, when one first enters the house-before, perhaps, the curtain is drawn up. The whole light proceed from the centre of the roof, where one large sun of crystal hangs in a blazing atmosphere, that defies you to look up to it-circle within circle of white flame, all blended and glowing into one huge orb of intolerable splendour. Beneath this flood of radiance, every face in the audience, from the gallery to the orchestra, is seen as distinctly as if all were seated in the open light of noon-day. And the unaccustomed spectator feels, when his box-door is

epened to him, as if he were stepping into a brilliant ballroom, much more than as if he were entering a theatre.

But the more complete the illumination of the whole house, the more difficult it of course must be to throw any concen trating and commanding degree of light upon the stage; and the consequence, I should think, is, that the pleasure which this audience now derive from looking at each other, is just so much taken from the pleasure which, in former times, they might have had in looking at the performers. There is nothing more evident, than that the stage should always be made to wear an appearance in all respects as different as possible from the rest of the theatre. The spectator should be encouraged by all possible arts to imagine himself a complete eavesdropper, a peeper, and a listener, who is hearing and seeing things that he has no proper right to hear and see. And it is for this reason, that I approve so much of the arrangement usually observed in the French, the German, but most of all, in the Italian theatres, which, while it leaves the whole audience enveloped in one sheet of dim and softened gloom, spreads upon the stage and those that tread it, a flood of glory, which makes it comparatively an easy matter to suppose, that the curtain which has been drawn up was a part of the veil that separates one world of existence from another. In such a theatre, the natural inclination every one feels is to be as silent as possible-as if it were not to betray the secret of an ambush. The attention, when it is drawn at all to the stage, is drawn thither entirely; and one feels as if he were guilty of a piece of foolish negligence every moment he removes his gaze from the only point of light on which he has the power to rest it. **** In such a theatre as that of Edinburgh, on the contrary, all is alike dazzle and splendour. The Dandy of the Green-room is not a whit more ridiculous, or a whit better seen, than his double close by your side; and every blaze of rouge or pearl-powder displayed by the PseudoBelles of the distance, finds its counterpart or rival on the cheek or shoulder of some real goddess on your fore-ground. In short, a poor innocent Partridge, introduced for the first time to theatrical spectacle in such a place as this, would, I think, be not a little at a loss to discover at what part of the house it should be his business to look. He would of course join in every burst of censure or applause; but he might, perhaps, be mistaken in his idea of what had called for the

clamour. He might take the ogle of Miss for a too impudent clap-trap, or perhaps be caught sobbing his heart out in sympathy with some soft flirtation-scene in the backrow of Lady——————'s side box.

Whatever other effects it might have, this mode of illumination was at least very useful to me in my inspection of the redoubtable Edinburgh audience. These great bug-bears of criticism could not hide one of their heads from me, and there I was armed cap-a-pee with the whole proof of Cranioscopical and Physiognomical acumen, to reconnoitre their points of strength and of weakness with equal facility and equal safety. I looked first, as in duty bound, to the gods; but could see nothing there worthy of detaining my attention, except the innocent stare of a young country girl, who seemed to be devouring the drop-scene with both her eyes, and at the same time rewarding with an hysterical giggle, the soft things whispered into her ear by a smooth red-nosed, rather elderly serving-man, who appeared to have much the air of being at home on the brink of that Olympus. Neither did the boxes seem to present any very great field of observation; but, in fact, most of the leading physiognomies in that region of the house were already quite sufficiently familiar to me. It was in the pit that my eyes at once detected their richest promise of a regale. The light falling directly upon the skulls in that quarter, displayed, in all becoming splendour, every bump and hollow of every critical cranium below me.

They belonged for the most part, as Mr. W whispered to me, to young attornies, and clerks, and apprentices of the same profession, who are all set free from their three-legged stools and fustian sleeves early every Saturday evening, and who commonly make use of this liberty to show their faces in the pit. A few lawyers of a higher order might be seen looking rather superciliously around them, sprinkled here and there over the surface of the crowd. Nor were there wanting some faces of more stable breadth, and more immov. able dulness, than are almost ever exhibited even by the dullest of the legal tribe-a few quiet comfortable citizens I could see, who certainly looked very much like sheep among foxes, although I by no means take them to be positive simpletons neither. Perhaps the unquestioning looks of happy anticipation with which these good people seemed to be waiting for the commencement of the play, gave quite as much pro