THE THEATRES.
THE two Theatres in the Haymarket are now diverting the attention of playgoers from the rival houses in Covent Garden ; which, were it not for the Coronation bonus, would probably have been armed ere this : KNOWLES'S play is the sole attraction at Covent Garden, and Drury Lane seems to have none left.
Her Majesty's Theatre, however much the real lovers of music may be disappointed, affords many a treat for the admirers of fine acting ; and on Thursday—one of those extra nights when the manager is enabled to gratify the vulgar taste for MOZART and CIMAROSA without offend- ing his fashionable patrons who vote Don Giovanni and 11 Matrimonio Segreto antiquated—we enjoyed a doubly delightful gratification, in the performance of the last-named musical comedy. Having hardly reco- vered from the stunning din of big-drum and cymbal, the braying of trombones and the lowing of the ophicleide in Parisina, listening to the dulcet harmonies and lively flowing melodies of CIMAROSA was like entering a grove of nightingales' after leaving the roar and clang of a smithy. LATILACHE was, as usual, magnificently droll, and the fun was infectious. TAMBERINT was in fine spirits, and taxed the agility of LABLACTIE ; who in imitating his capers seemed to have in his eye an elephant on a tight-rope. Rell1Nr condescended to promote the humour of the scene ; and ALBERTAZZI was positively energetic ; nay, even Mrs. E. SEGUIN made a show of acting. 'rue only novelty was STANT in Carolina, the wife of the secret marriage; and her expressive singing and naive performance were so charming that it was impos- sible to remember that the part had once been Glum's. The quarrelling trio, with its sweetly shrill tones of defiance and its voluble scolding made the audience desire a repetition of the harmonious discord ; to which the rich contralto of ALBERTAZZI'S angry tones gave beautiful effect. After banquetting on this
—" Perpetual feast of neetar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns,"
the melodramatic third act of Otello was not to be relished ; and the " new grand ballet" proved a very insipid and unsubstantial dessert. SHAKSPEARE'S Tempest has furnished the theme : TAGLIONt and GUERRA are the Miranda and Ferdinand, and Prospero is metamor- phosed into a Cl Genius of Good," who quells the storm, that roared and swayed some palm-trees to and fro in capital style ; but Caliban is hot; and in fact the story is exchanged for some of the dullest and most puerile conceits ever culled from a ballet-master's repository. Gnomes and salamanders—who look prodigiously like unwashed climbing-boys —danced in rings round the shipwrecked gentleman in white silk stock- ings and pumps and a wet wet suit, as Sam Weller would say ; and long lines of nymphs in white muslin, with leopard-spotted kirtles. trip in and out, and show how unmeaning and ungraceful are the very ges- tures and steps that TAGLIONT is so elegantly performing in front of them. .Miranda next appears in her "grotto "—a sort of gauze shower-bath ; from which she sprinkles Ferdinand with flowers, which he tosses back to her ; and then she conies out and arranges the flowers in a line, and first he skips over them and then she, until at last he picks them up " one by one," as the programme tells us ; she returns to the gauze shower-bath, and the scene changes to an enchanted palace, and a very splendid " tableau" it is. The Genius of Good, who is seen standing at the top of the glittering staircase, after wit- nessing an endearing pas de deux between the lovers, is tired of his state of pas seul, and joins the hands of the two whose feet had been treading in each other's steps all along.
TAG 1,1051'S dancing was exquisite ; but the only variety was a pas de Toxopholite—if we may venture to coin a phrase—in which TAG.. LTON1 shot an arrow standing on one leg, with the other levelled hori- zontially, as if the limb itself were going to fly off at a tangent the op- posite way of the arrow.
The ELSLERS are come, however ; and now we may expect a real ballet : for Miranda is only a divertissement of three scenes, or " ta- bleaux," as they are called—am ion it has none.
Figaro is to he done at last, for Laroare'e benefit, on Thursday:
The company at the Little Haymarket is strongly reinforced, for a few nights, by VESTRIS and CHARLES MA nicws, who are playing some of the most popular Olympic burlettas before they depart for America; Mrs. °TIGER and others of the Olympic company taking part in the performances. BUCKSTONE has also produced another new farce here—The Irish Lion, in which POWER elicits roars of laughter : not only "doh he wag his tail "—be winks his eye, and most knowingly, tr o. Tim More, an Irish journeyman tailor, and who sets up fora " tallies" in his way, gets a billet intended for Mr. Moore "the Emerald poet." Nov r doubting but that so:n.r discerning person had detected his modest merits, he puts on a customer's coat, borrows the pride of a village wig-maker's shop-window, and pulling a pair of I;oots over his pantaloon% repairs to Mrs. Fizgig's party. Here lie is stared at to his heart's cantent : when he opens his month a " hush " goes round the roJrn ; and every thing he says is received with exclamations of " charming ! " de- lightful! " crowned by a climax of admiration in the " dein'd foine ! " of afrogged and hairy-faced exquisite. An album is brought to him, with a most fascinating smile, and a " You know what this is, Mr. More : but Mr. More does riot; and the name sounding stranze to him, be is fain to putt his hand before his fare to hide his blush--of ignorance. The hostess covets a lock of his hair, and he gallantly presents her with the entire wig. The fun was irresistible—the audience were convulsed with laughter. It is a very humorous satire of the " lionizing " mania, and the sickening adulation that literary "lions" are pampered with. A correspondent of the Post says this farce is taken from an old French vaudeville, " Le Tuilleur de Jean Jacques Rosseau." Doubtless it is not "original," as it is incorrectly termed— Rummel: is as great a poacher as his brother dramatists—but it is very laughable, and well-timed. Lionizing is an old folly, it seems.
We could not but admire the professional dexterity with which POWER squatted cross-legged on the shop-board, and the loose play of his wrist as be drew out the stitches : we had no idea that the thimble- craft was so susceptible of elegance. This is one of the points wherein POWER showed himself the true artist : ordinary actors would have thought this little touch of character beneath them. Mrs. FIT/- WILLIAM played Mrs. Fizgig very cleverly and pleasantly ; and Mr. WORRELL'S " dem'cl foine !" is genuinely exquisite.
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