which has been lately set off, with added lustre, in the astonished eyes of Europe, by the advent of JENNY LIND to his exaggerated shores.

We could the easier pardon Jonathan were his ecstasy more genuine and his devotion less a quackery of his nature. When the German students made a drinking cup of the wornout slipper of MALIBRAN or TAGLIONI, it was an act purely German, and a mere efflorescence of Burschenschaft. It was a worship wreathed with tobacco-smoke and reflected in spilt beer, a votive offering of the tea-garden, an effigy crowned by maudlin enthusiasm with faded China roses. It was ecstatic slip-slop and foolish sentiment. But it was a deed partly redeemed and excused by its miserable earnestness. There was a sort of homoeopathic approximation, in the dreamy Teutonic brain, to the person of her who was worshipped, by such a proceeding. The German's wine was flavoured with the dance and the song. A pas seul revelled in his imagination, and a cavatina echoed in his soul. His mind was a strange mixture of material philosophy and cloudy sentiment, and he went home to bed confused, excited, and satisfied. When CERITO was fêted and crowned with a golden coronet at Rome, her sleep disturbed by serenaders, and her person endangered in the street, it was the result of real enthusiasm for her bound across the stage and for the exquisite precision of her many-twinkling feet. She was received at soirées with cantatas in her honour, and the ardour of the Roman character breathed vows on her behalf. But there was grace and truth in the demonstration, which emanated from a poetical people. If it displayed a triflingness of character, it was still the offspring of the talent, energy, and ardour of temperament, which had no other outlet, under a debased government, than to exhibit itself in the

G

admiration of dancers and the approval of song. The Italian cuts his paper figures with a pair of gold scissors-the American consummates the same littleness with a tailor's hulking shears. There is heart and soul in the one, and blazing vulgarity in the other. It is the German's predestination, and the Italian has had nothing better to do for centuries. Both nations acquit themselves well in their way. The heavy enthusiasm of the one is as natural as the operatic sensibility of the other. We can fancy the German "Fox,” or the Roman “Noble Guard,” each in his element. Effeminacy and beer, philosophy and passion, may deify a LIND and transform TAGLIONI into an Egeria. But when Jonathan brays forth his praises across the Atlantic, we are too sensibly reminded of the fable of the donkey at the fair.

After all, what is this monster enthusiasm worth? Is it rightly estimated by the "Swedish nightingale?" "I have served," she may say, "for the self-glorification of that which is pleased to call itself a free and enlightened people. I have `been so fortunate as to illustrate America, and to eternize a BARNUM. A hatter has advertised through the means of my European reputation. The faculties of bathos have been extended, and language has been out-Ossianized to extol Jonathan and me. My glove has been kissed, not with the greedy fervour of lovers; but on the principle which leads crowds to an execution, or buys toothpicks made out of the hedge through which a murderer was dragged. I enjoyed a divided empire with Professor Webster, and the last thing really thought of were the convolutions of my voice, lost to the ears of a people deafened by the Niagara of their own selfpraise." But if a soprano voice came down from Heaven to New York, lodged in the bosom of an angel, at a merely nominal price, with a double chorus of seraphim in the

streets, it would fall unheeded on the musical tympanum of Jonathan, unless proffered by the recommendation of an American BARNUM and heralded by the reputation of an European JENNY Lind.

We should have been less severe upon the harmless extravagance of a really practical people, had it not been for the petty spirit of contemptible rivalry which they take no pains to conceal. It is not that they love JENNY LIND the more, but JOHN BULL less. We cannot tell why their sense should wish to outstrip our folly; but Liverpool afforded the cue to the absurdities of New York. We are not wanting in admiration for the talent of Mademoiselle LIND. We could be rapturous about her unseen vocalization, as we esteem her tangible benevolence. We do not think her a beauty, or canonize her in our remembrance as a saint, although her conduct be good and virtuous as her voice is heavenly. We would merely have things in their places. This sort of furor for musical excellence is rather a sign of the decadence of a nation, and the over-ripeness of its so-called civilization, than the usual concomitant of youthful vigour and commercial energy. It is a pampered indulgence, a vitiated virtue, a corruption of talent, and a false tribute to art.

The ovation of vocal triumph should be confined to the concert-room and the theatre. We censure the Americans, not for a display of musical taste, of which indeed they have little or none; but for receiving a singer, however charming, with the honours due to a warrior and a patriot on his return home-yes, for devoting to JENNY LIND the garlands of enthusiasm, which would now misbecome Patriotism and fall withered at the feet of the statue of the heroic WASHINGTON.

ARISTOCRATICAL EMIGRATION TO NEW

ZEALAND.

It is mentioned in the public journals, that Lords Mandeville and R. Montague, two sons of the Duke of Manchester, are about to quit their native shores for New Zealand. Against the mere fact of the departure of these gentlemen, or that of any other sprigs of nobility, who conscientiously feel themselves de trop here, we have nought to urge. It is a manly expatriation and a relief to the sinecurism which abounds in an over-taxed country. We rejoice to see these twin Curtii take a voluntary hop, step, and jump towards the gloomy gulf of distant emigration. It is a satisfaction to us, abstractedly, to know that the sons of Dukes are about to live in the bush, with the soles of their feet turned towards the soles of ours. Why not a lord as well as a bishop? Better far; since we do not understand that the lord's absence must be purchased for £1,000 a-year, either by the emigrants or the community. Ergo, we will wave our white cambric handkerchiefs at their departure; nay, we would subscribe to a breakfast which should celebrate thinning the House of Peers of its paupers. But we do regret one thing extremely, which is the singular and unfortunate choice these aristocratical gemini have made. Why go to New Zealand? What can they become there? There, exists neither ambition nor sporting. When Curtius leapt into his gulf, it was not that there might be a man less in Italy or Rome; but for the salvation and the good of his country. Good young lords, before you depart for New Zealand, think of Canada! There, you will not be lost to us entirely, nor we to you. Thence may arise benefits innu

merable and incalculable. You will find bishops ready made, both Protestant and Romanist. You may form the nucleus of an Aristocracy, and be the first great or little means, no matter which, of preserving Canada to England. There, is a country presenting honourable excitement, noble field sports, an arena for patriotism, with a future which may be realized within the next century, nay, the next lustrum. Sons of Dukes, go to Canada! We estimate you highly for going at all; but let a full-blown satisfaction crown your departure. If you wish to be remote, to think amid solemn woods and by the side of great lakes, and to reflect upon the blunders, and miseries, and follies of your fatherland, seek the great western wilderness. Lord Selkirk left a historic name. Wherefore should not you? Will you not lose your very identity in a country associated with cannibals and convicts, whose virgin soil is tinctured with vulgarity and full-flavoured with unproductiveness? You are rashly anticipating a cycle by departing to New Zealand; unless, indeed, you think the time is fast approaching when the safest refuge for an Englishman will be at the greatest distance from his own land. Have you seen the Panorama of New Zealand, containing the Canterbury settlement? It is in Leicester-square. Go and spend there a shilling and a half-hour. We do not know how long the title of Manchester has existed. Probably not very long. We believe, also, that the family is not very wealthy, or perhaps we should not lose you thus.

However, there have been worthy representatives of the family name of Montague. Why waste your nobility on kangaroos? The greatest heritage of a true nobleman is, in our opinion, the chivalry which is expected from him in respect of his ancestry. Do not believe the Times when