7 DECEMBER 1929, Page 12

A Hundred Years Ago

THE " SPECTATOR," -DECEMBER 6TH, -1829.

AN EXCHANGE.

The Times of Wednesday alludes to an exchange by the Royal Society of valuable books which that body had no right to barter, for an unknown, unvalued batch of books from the British Museum." " We recollect," continues the Times, " an instance of one's sending a tragedy to Garrick for his examination. After a reasonable time, the author waited on the manager to inquire about the success of his piece. He found little David—whose Christian name, by the way, somewhat resembles that of our worthy President of the Royal Society—at his breakfast; who told him that his work would not do, and (without rising) directed him to take it out of a certain drawer, in which were scores of other condemned plays. The disappointed author hunted, and hunted again, but could not find his own dear tragedy. ' Then,' said Garrick, ' take two comedies and a farce for it. "

THE DEBUT OF THE ELEPHANT AT THE ADELPHI.

The present dAutante is not only of the gentle sex, but all her doings are gentle. Her stature is, we should suppose, about nine feet and perhaps a few inches more. Some of our contem- poraries talk of twelve feet, but the loftiest males even in India seldom attain to ten feet. The colour of the animal, it may be supposed, is the ordinary one, blackish brown—not that very rare and much-prized cream or rather dun colour that characterizes the Royal Elephant of Siam. The tricks performed were—the delivery of bouquets to the princess and her attendants ; the carrying of a letter from the princess to the prince ; the shutting of the tomb of his father on the conspirators against the latter ; his deliverance from a box in which he is enclosed for assassination ; his extrication from prison ; and several others, too tedious to mention, as the catalogues say. In what is called the Elephantine Banquet, the enormous creature crouches on its hams, and lunches on biscuits and wine, with equal grace and dexterity ; draws the cork of the bottle, and drains it down its " throat's tremendous gutter," in a fashion which to be understood must be seen. Her Mightiness having lunched, dances a minuet. The picture which the " hill of flesh " exhibits moving slowly round like a seventy- four swinging to the tide, while the members of the corps de ballet are skimming about it like so many light and gilded wherries, is extremely striking. The last part of the Elephant's acting is the best. When the curtain dropped, the audience were most uproariously applausive, and the clapping of hands was continued with a perseverance that none but John Bull in good humour can maintain. We confess we were much inclined to laugh at what we deemed the simpletons, around, above, and below us, who would have the Elephant forward to receive their thanks. They were not, however, so simple as we deemed them, for after a minute's pause the curtain drew up, and the " noble animal of India " came gravely forward to the foot-lights for that purpose—salaaming the while, and uttering the shrill whistling cry that the elephant gives forth when highly pleased. The creature was unattended in this last instance, and the exhibition, if not rational, was extremely like it.