whether the
opera of a great foreign composer, or the lectures of a literary lion;
besides endless panoramas, dioramas, cosmoramas, and cycloramas, which
bring home to John Bull the wonders of the habitable globe, and
annihilate time and space for his delectation. We see the Paris of the
Huguenots to the sound of Meyerbeer's blood-stirring trumpets; or gain
companionship with Hogarth, Fielding, or Smollett as we listen to
Thackeray; or, after paying our shilling in the Chinese Junk, are, to
all intents and purposes, afloat in the Hoang Ho.

London is the place at which these amusements are manufactured and
first presented, and at which the stamp is sought which enables a
portion of them to pass current in the provinces, and make large
returns to the more fortunate speculators. In the metropolis, the vast
capital afloat in such schemes is first cast on the waters, and a
large amount annually sunk and engulfed for ever in the great vortex.
The continued series of splendid fortunes which have been sacrificed
in such schemes, would excite our astonishment that the fate of
previous adventurers had not acted as a warning, if the moral of the
gambling-table and the Stock Exchange were not always ready, by
collateral illustration, to explain a riddle which would otherwise be
insoluble.

Indisputably foremost of all the establishments which offer amusement
to the London public, is the Royal Italian Opera, Covent Garden; and
we say this without attempting to enter into the question of whether
it has rightly or wrongly achieved a preponderance of vocal talent
over the rival theatre. While noting, however, the combination of
talent it presents, and the continued flow of capital it sends forth
in the production of the highest class of works, we must at the same
time express our admiration of the spirited efforts of Mr Lumley to
sustain himself against such odds; and our hope that nothing will
induce this gentleman to give up a rivalry which has been a stimulus
to the exertions of the other house, and which has rendered London the
musical capital of the world. Thus much premised, we sit down to give
an account of a day spent at Covent Garden, devoted to a thorough
examination of this vast establishment, from its extensive catacombs
to the leads which overlook the panorama of London; persuaded as we
are that the public has but an obscure idea of the capital, labour,
and ingenuity expended in the production of what is visible to the