FIGARO IN LONDON. Satire should like a polish'd razor keen, Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.— LADY MONTAGUE. " Political Pasquinades and Political Caricatures are parts ( though humble ones,) of Political History. They supply information as to the person and habits, often as to the motives and objects of public men, which cannot be found elsewhere."— CROKER'S NEW WHIG GUIDE. No. 174. THE POLITICAL COCK- SHY. Mrs. Arthur, a knowing old woman of the varmint breed, having no other means of getting a living, and having herself been pelted for a long while by a number of young mischievous chaps, with which the neighbourhood swarms, determined to make a little money from their mischievous propensities, and turn then at- tention from herself by setting up her old dunghill cock, named Bob, for them all to shy at, at a penny a throw. It was laughable enough to see the old cock before he knew what was about to happen to him, crowing and strutting, and spreading his tail, as if he was the true cock of the walk and thorough game. But when little Jacky Russel, the great builder's son, let fly the first shy at him, he shook his feathers and stared about as if he wanted to ask VOL. IV. [ Price One Penny. him what he meant by it. Mrs. Finsbury's lad, young Tom, a good- looking boy, but a thorough devil, then tried his hand, and hit the poor cock a douse on the left wing. Joey Hume, the Scotch doctor's boy, and Evans, the guaidsman's nephew, now took their turn. The cock then began to show the dunghill, turning about and twisting himself to get away from the pegs whieh fastened him down. At one time he seemed to think he could bully the boys by fluttering his wings, raising his crest, and crowing loudly;— but Joey and Evans hit him again, and finally Dan O'Connell, the Irish beggar boy, floored the poor dung- hill with a shivering shy from a stick which he had picked up in the Church hard by, and the poor devil fell to rise no more. Mother Arthur set to abusing the lads, bnt they plainly told her they had paid their money, and would have their whack for it— so that it was of no use talking to them. The old lady talked of tak- ing them to the Sessions, or, in Parliamentary phrase, of appealing to the country, and she threatened them also that she would retire from business, at which they laughed and declared, if she did, they would then set up a Shy Cock of their own. Little Jacky Russell immediately set off to purchase a good game cock for that purpose. THE INTERPRETER. The Clergyman in Debt! " That to lie, is to tell a thing that we know in our conscience to be ut- terly false and untrue; and it is of this last sort of liars only that I now speak." — Montaigne's Essays on Liars. Our expose of this worthy, this walking man- trap, and prison penny- a- liner, has had its due effect. The stamp act still remains in force ; else could we tell how some of his contemporaneous cop- per captains chastised him on first his appearance among them, and how he fled, his mustachios fluttering in the wind, to the sheltering shade of the strong- room in the King's Bench Prison. But this G. COWIE, Printer, 13, Newcastle Street, Strand SATURDAY, APRIL 4, 1835. 56 FIGARO IN LONDON. we leave to future historians. A correspondent belabours him pretty soundly:— My Dear Figaro;— Accept the best thanks of a constant reader for your just exposure of Don Munchausen Moustachio Moscati Baily's three vols, of lies. In vol. 3, page 23, speaking of the receiving ward in Whitecross Street Pri- son, he states— " The dinner service is of the coarsest, the bread stale, and the beer thin and all but sour; there is j bit of the heel of cheese, little calculated to assist the digestion, which follows the meat, and then a general remove; for this the prisoner pays one shilling, or one and sixpence, WE forget which." The thousands who will read this, and who have been in the Receiving Ward, must at once perceive this statement to be utterly false; and as black hearted a falsehood as ever emanated from this Prince of Liars. A more warm hearted, or better man, or one that keeps a better table, does not exist than the Steward of the Receiving Ward : but, Mr. Editor, I will let you and the pub- lic at once into the secret of this gratuitous malignity. Munchausen " Baily hap- pened to be brought a prisoner into the Receiving Ward, and with his usual success at imposition, persuaded the Governor, Mr. Barratt, to let him remain till he got a Habeas to remove him to the Bench, well knowing, if he went down into the body of the gaol he would be flung on his own resources ( which would have been the gaol allowance, and what he always ought to subsist on), but single- handed he could impose on the kindness of the Steward. After re- maining a considerable time before he could Mace for the Habeas, he at length succeeded, and took his departure, forgetting to settle his account for the coarse bread, stale beer, and heel of cheese to assist digestion, besides a penny bundle of wood, not charged in his account, of which he daily used the whole to orna- ment and blacken his mustachios by burning the wood. TWENTY- SEVEN times did the Steward send over to the Bench for his account, and at length succeeded in obtaining about one- half; the balance still remains to the account of the Clergyman in Debt ! VINDEX. Our correspondent's conjunctive notion of " a better man and one who keeps a better table," is rather rich. The Amphitryon of the reteiv'ng ward, whom so many try- on to dine upon, must be infi- nitely • bliged. What a picture of Omnibus Baily ' blackening his mustachios' with burnt wood! The ruling passion strong in ' debt." And here perhaps we get at the true secret of this unhappy young man's folly and vice. His personal vanity, his notion of ornamenting his carcass at any expense of honour and tailors ! He is now, we hear, detained in the Rules by a tailor's bill, and belongs to that species of debtor known and classified by the title of A Tailor's Goose. The King of Hanover v. the King of England. " Mr. Carruthers said he considered it still more extraordinary that it should be exacted by the King of Hanover only from ships bearing the British flag."— Parliamentary Debate. Who is this King of Hanover ? This impertinent, petty So- vereign ? This German potentate of seven acres— whose standing army never exceeds three, and whose coinage is only farthings ?— A King of Lilliput! The least of little absurdities! Can it be possible, that in this trivial personage we find the King of Eng- land ? And is this the reward of the millions spent in protecting the hereditary dominions of this fat family ? Of the King of England it is treasonable and seditious to speak too plainly. Of the King of Hanover, an Englishman may say what he pleases.— This fat, slobber- faced, thick- lipped, and half- silly family of Hano- ver rats have forgotten all their gratitude to England, and now presume to tax British ships only ! on entering their muddy ports. Honourable Gentlemen. " The honour of a newspaper editor has never been questioned."— Morning Advertiser. This is one of those fallacies, on which Editors feed themselves. Imagine the dignity, the swelling pride of' Mr. Editor,' on writing this. He raises his head, buttons up his coat, expands his chest, dips his pen in the ink, and then writes " The honour of a news- paper editor has never been questioned." Alack, Mr. Editor, who was it betrayed that the letter to the Times, on the moment of the kick out of the Melbourne Whigs— ending" The Queen has done it all ?"— who was it, we say, betrayed, through private malignity, that that letter was written by Lord Brougham ? Who was it in the Morning Chronicle office that exhibited to some spy from the Times certain articles written by Lord Brougham, which first raised the wordy war between those two potentates ? Who was the person at the Courier office that first let out the secret of certain short articles having been written by the Duke of Wellington ? Who at the Globe Office betrayed Lord Palmerston ? Answer these questions, Mr. Editor, before you prate about the honour of News- paper Editors. The Tithe Question. Lord Castlereagh said, that he should not have troubled the House, had he not wished to set himself straight with it and his constituents, as to a state- ment he was alleged to have made on a previous evening. He had been re- ported to have said that the Protestants and Presbyterians in the North of Ire- land were anxious to pay tithes. He never had stated, and never could state, so manifest an absurdity.— Parliamentary Debate. Lord Castlereagh is a hunchback in intellect— born and brought up in the crooked paths of tory corruption, how can he venture to talk of setting himself straight with the House or the Country ? We are glad to see, however, that the tories begin to recognise the manifest absurdity of paying tithes— that great premium for idleness, both to the payer and to the receiver. For who would cultivate and improve his property, when he knows that a tithe of that im- provementmust go to a person who has contributed nothing towards it? And what parson will conduct himself properly, unless his pocket be made to suffer for his misconduct, and unless his good behaviour and the pious discharge of his duties be his only road to the purses of his parishioners ? The discussion on the Irish Tithe Question has brought out some fine points, some convincing proofs of the advantages of that happy connection of Church and State, under which, according to the tories, the people of England have flourished and prospered. The number of Protestants in Ireland is 600,000, being one- fifteenth part of the population of that country. Yet is the whole of Ireland tithed to the amount of £ 700,000 per annum for the support of an Established Church for the religious benefit of these few Protestants— making the cost of each Protestant about five and twenty shillings a year to the State, and putting the United Kingdom to a further expense of one million per annum, in supporting twenty thousand soldiers to keep down the people, who are compelled to pay this money. There are some things, which are so absurd in themselves, that merely require stating plainly, to be hooted off at once. Such is this Irish Church— as filthy a nest of abominable vermin, as ever dis- graced the corners of any country. In vain did St. Patrick charm away all poisonous reptiles from his favourite land, if the English invaders of Ireland brought in the more dangerous ver- min of their Established Church. An adder is nothing to a parson— you may destroy the whole nest of them at once— but the brood of the blood- sucking black wretches, is never to be extir- pated but by a general rat hunt, as effectual as the wolve- destroy- ing edict of Edward the Confessor. THE NEW COURT CIRCULAR. The Lord Mayor got up at half- past 10 this morning— His Lordship is in very good health. Mrs. Muggins came to town yesterday from her residence in the Old Kent Road, and entertained a large party of fashionables at her house in Tooley Street. Among the company present we noticed:— Messieurs.— Stubbs, Bubbs, Jenkins, Atkins, Tomkins, Pipkins, Simkins. Mesdames Stubbs, Bubbs, Jenkins, Atkins, Tomkins, Pipkins, Simkins. Misses Stubbs, Bubbs, Jenkins, Atkins, Tom- kins, Pipkins, Simkins. On Sunday.— The New Police were mustered in the Guildhall, and reviewed by Lord Winchester. The officers afterwards sat down to a sumptuous dinner of bread and cheese, at the Mansion House. FIGARO IN LONDON. 179 ENGLISH POPULAR SONGS. Walking down by Downing- street the other night, we were attracted by a mellifluous voice, which we suspected to be Sir Robert Peels, which gave vent to the following delicious popular melody:— ALL AROUND MY HAT! As sung by Sir R. Peel. All around my hat, I vears a green villow ! All around my hat, for a twelvemonth and a day! And, if any Member axes me the reason vy I vears it, I tells him ' coz the Irish Church is gone far avay. Speaks.— Do you vant any Bishops, ma'am ! Sings.— All around my hat, & c. Old Mother Church vas a rich- un and a good- un, And old Mother Church had a jolly store of pelf, The people of ould Ireland, they ver'nt so wery religious, But she didn't care a mag, for she took care of herself. Speaks.— Do you vant any nice sinecures, ma'am ? *• Sings.— All around my hat, & c. There's thousands of the Clergymen, their wives, sons, and darters, There's dozens of the Bishops, and fat old Rectors, too, Will be starving in the streets or a harning of their livings, And arn't that a hard thing for a gentleman to do 1 Speaks.— There's a fine rosy wicar for you, ma'am. { Sings.— All around my hat, & c. Oh, it's not for the people, vot was shot there at Rathcormac, That I vears this green villow, that I veep, and that I vail, But I doesn't like to see Mother Church robb'd of her property. ' By these Vhigs, and that willain O'Connell, and his tail 1 Speaks.— Do you vant a nice young Irishman, ma'am. ^ Sings.— All around my hat, & c. The mob which collected round the door was so large that we were glad to make our escape as soon as possible without hearing any more of it. On our return, however, through the street after a short walk, we heard Sir Henry Hardinge expressing his regret at loss of office to the beautiful tune of " Lochaber no more.'' The Torv chorus reminded us of Sir Walter's lines— A manly voice with mellow swell, Bore burthen to the music well. The following were the melancholy words of this mournful la- ment :— MY PENSION NO MORE ! Tune.— Lochaber no more. 4 Farewell to my pension, and farewell my place, Which I've clung to through every change and disgrace. For my pension no more! for my pension no more! May be to return to my pension no more. Ah, that snug little office I ne'er can forget, My memory clings to that snug office yet, For ' twas there that I learned to bamboozle the mob, And ' twas there I concocted full many a job. For my pension no more! for my pension no more, May be to return to my pension no more. The whole party now joined in chorus, and such a lugubrious howl was the consequence, that the police broke in, and took them all off to the Station House. BREVITIES. A Tory Truth. The Tories asserted that their Ministry would turn out well; it would perhaps be well if their Ministry were to turn out. i A Non- suit. Sir R. Peel declares on the Irish Question that he feels himself quite out of place, in putting Lord J. Russell's Resolution into action. Know Thyself, It is said that Sir James Graham scarcely' knows his own mind' under the present changes. He never was suspected of knoioing much. Pious Sheep- Shearers. The Reform in the Irish Church will teach the people to pray for themselves, and no longer be preyed upon by the bishops. « On a late Motion regarding the Irish Church • Russell's purge, I have a notion, Is the cause of Russell's motion. Returns. We are glad to see a motion for a return of the cost of the four royal yachts, as a proof that the nation is about to get back some of the money so foolishly wasted on these royal toys. A Prospect. Some time ago Lord Grey advised the Bishops to look at home' but so close are the Reformers to their doors, that it is high time for them to look out. An Old Story. The Irish Church, with its small number of wealthy professors, puts us in mind of an old joke. A good old lady who was treating with a maid servant about work and wages, asked her among other questions what religion she was ? ' Alack- a- day, madam,' said the poor innocent girl, ' I never trouble my head about that; for religion I thought was only for gentlefolks.' THE DINNER TO LORD JOHN RUSSELL. The vanity of the little lordlings of the Whig species is exces- sively ridiculous. We attended this dinner, and were much amused. The didactic preciseness, and school- book eloquence of Lord Mor- peth— the mumbling delivery, and self- laudatory boasting of Lord John— the emphatic droning of Charles Grant, and the frothy declamation of JLord Dalmeny, were all in full play, like a fire- engine with a tremendous spout. Every now and then a little Whig went off with a fizz. We were much amused by the toasts. ' The people, for whose benefit all government should be carried on ;' and we suggested to a Member near us, that the present company, we supposed, were ' The People, for whose benefit all Government was to be carried on,'— a suggestion which much amazed the Whig. The constant cackle of these Whiglings was about themselves and their party— how clever they were,— what good they had done, & c. O'Connell, sly in a corner, watched them as a sagacious old cat watches the playful mouse, whose leaps and gyrations, it takes good care shall not exceed its own reach. The Whigs seem to think that they are patronising O'Connell, while, in fact, they are only doing his dirty ( to them) and difficult work, by clearing away all obstacles, which the prejudices of our English aristocracy might throw in his path: We need not warn our countrymen, that no true Radical should never trust a Whig. Vote with them,— dine with them,— do any thing with them to answer your own purpose, — but never trust a Whig. Tyrannical in office— obsequious when out of it— proud in place, imperious in Parliament, specious at an election, and deceitful everywhere, your real Whig is to be used, but not relied upon. Diamond cut diamond is now the parliamen- tary policy— and FIGARO says to his friends, Turn out the Tories, but do not admit the Whigs into power. 58 FIGARO IN LONDON. THEATRICALS. The City Theatre opened under its new auspices on Monday.— Have any of our readers ever visited this place ? There is a street not unknown to fame, ' yclept Grub Street, rich in classic associa- tions and powerful in odoriferous smells— nearly at the end stands this modern Temple of the Muses. The box office for tickets, for alas! this Theatre is as unlicenced as a Dissenter's Marriage, is situated at an old clothesman's opposite. On entering the house you are saluted by the gallery, with such remarks as a close investigation of your dress and appearance by about two hun- dred people can furnish subjects for. The Theatre is well construct- ed both for seeing and hearing, and the company appears to be well selected. Oxberry and Hughes are well known— the one as light and fantastical in his style, a fidgetty actor, rather than a good one; and wanting time, study, confidence, and practice, to enable him to take any decided rank in his profession. We have seen him act many parts extremely well; in one character, the Boots at an Inn, in the Siamese Twins, he cannot be surpassed by any actor now on the stage. Hughes is one of those quaint little creatures, who from a ' sort of something' about them, as Liston says, contrive to be favourites every where. Gifted as he is by nature with a countenance of the most extraordinary length, and the most comical uglyness, he carries his letter of introduction to the good humour of an audience in his face, and wins a laugh before he has spoken a word. Such an actor is a treasure to an author; added to which this Hughes possesses the rare ability, on the Eng- lish stage, of rendering a slight part effective. Who can forget his Mr. Crinkum in the Wandering Minstrel ? or his representation of the silly curiosity- hunting mania, in Old Forceps. Hughes is a young actor, and we take this opportunity of warning him of the danger of playing to a vulgar audience. There is a temptation to over- acting, and occasional grossness in the applause which follows too surely any thing of the kind from an injudicious audience. Actors are not clowns; they should not seek to raise a roar of laughter by clumsy gestures or outrageous attitudes. A look, or word, pro- perly delivered, if the attention of the audience be once caught by an actor, will do more for him than if he tumbled over head and heels, or threw a somerset six feet from the ground. Miss Bvron, we see, is engaged at this theatre. Nature has gifted herwithagood voice; but in executing the strains of others, she must be careful not to strain her own pretty pipe. We think this young lady will be a star in no short time. The first piece was a translation of the celebrated L'Auberge des Adrets, by Mr. Selby, which he has chosen to call, with true Coburg feeling, ' The Two Murderers.' Now murder is not the staple of this drama; robbery, roguery, and dashing impu- dence, with a subtlety of refinement in character never before at- tempted, and which, we believe, owes its origin to the genius of the original Robert Macaire, are the grand characteristics of the piece. Mr. Selby is one of those gentlemen who think, that to enable a French piece to be acted on an English stage, nothing is required but a literal translation;— he never dresses up the dialogue, or in any way improves on the original, by inserting in the text some of the points made by the actor, but lays it bald and dis- jointed before an audience, who have no sympathy with many of the situations or knowledge of the allusions,— thus doub- ling the task of the actor, who labours as it were almost under the difficulty of acting in a language foreign to his audience. The part of Robert Macaire was acted by Oxberry, who wants stamina for the part. Macaire is the Rob Roy of pickpockets and swindlers. Is Oxberry like a Rob Roy? He looks like one of the lithe- limbed, thin, slim, genteel young gentlemen who form that corps well- known in Cheapside, at the Bank, and all crowded chapels, young gentlemen who hand old ladies down the steps and pick their pockets by way of paying themselves for their politeness— the swell- mob;— now, Macaire is not of this geups. He is more manly. There is a chivalry, an enthusiasm, an artistical feeling in his rob- beries ; a half laugh of enjoyment in each roguery, that if you detected him in picking your pocket you would only think it was in joke. So gentlemanly in manners, so easy his assurance, that were you to meet him in the pit of the Opera, his nonchalance would beguile you from noticing his ragged clothes, and you would take a pinch from his elegantly offered snuff- box, while, in pure admiration of the workmanship of your watch, and from a disin- terested love of the arts, he would ease you of your new Brequier, and drive away with your cab by way of facilitating his escape. In such a character Oxberry must fail; but when Yates himself was obliged to hide his inferiority to Lemaitre by buffoonery and carica - ture, Oxberry may be excused if he was too light and whimsical in the character. Hughes took Vizentini's part of Bertrand, and excited great laughter; but he also overstrained the quiet timidity of the sly, yet silly, rascal, by being too active and bustling—( a pardon- able fault in a young manager.) Bertrand is a grand contrast to Macaire. The one is all swagger, dash, boldness, and animation. The other, a creeping, sneaking, cowardly dastard, the personi- fication of fear— who trembles at the fall of a plate, ' sees in everv bush an officer,' and sleeps with his ears cocked up, ever in a tremble and flutter of fright— his knees in a perpetual shake, and ever bending under him. He is proud, however, of his associate, and his ludicrous endeavours to imitate the boldness of Macaire's bearing, and his impracticable nonchalance, are highly rich and absurd. The Marie of Mrs. Sefton, was a highly judicious per- formance— neither overallowed nor over acted for effect. We were much pleased with the performances on the whole, and the laughable farces which followed, contributed highly to the amuse- ment of the audience. If the manager but goes on as he has com- menced, the Lessee will not have so much cause to repent his venturous rashness as we at first anticipated. THE BARBER'S JOURNAL. A WEEKLY SATIRICAL PAPER, WITH COTS BY A CUNNING* SHAVER. No. I, is Now Ready. Published Weekly by W. STRANGE, 21, Paternoster Row. f " lOLES'S PATENT MEDICATED BANDS will cure Rheumatism, ^ COLES'S PATENT TRUSSES will Cure Rupture, " Read COLE on Rheumatism, or COLE on Rupture." Sherwood and Co. and W. Strange, Paternoster- row. One Penny Each, or Sixpence per dozen.— Manufactory 3, Charing Cross. THE FINEST BEAVER HATS, 21s. BEST BEAVER HATS, 17s. 6d. * SUPERB GOSSAMER HATS, 13s. The above are manufactured of the most choice materials, and finished in the highest style of fashion— they never spot with rain nor lose their shape. FRANKS AND CO., Sole Patentees and Manufacturers. • „„,),„, 140, Regent Street, West. London gg> Redcross street> city_ Paris ... 97, Rue Richelieu. Edinburgh, 6, St. Andrew Street. Dublin . 3, Sackville Street. II N. B.— Franks and Co. are the only Manufacturers who really supply the Public at the Wholesale Price. G. COWIE, Printer, 13, Newcastle Street, Strand. PUBLISHED ( for the Proprietor) by W. STRANGE, 21, PATERNOSTER ROW.