The Italian Theatres are doing little at present—little, we mean,
in the production of novelty. Both are ringing the changes on the old pieces of their repertoires, performed in the old manner. The managers seem to think, in the present influx of strangers, that their houses will fill without any exertion on their part a policy something like that of an innkeeper in a country-town at again or race-time, who cares little how his table is covered, knowing that it must at any rate be full. Not that our opera fare is bad, but it wants the great condiment, variety.
In regard to what is prospective, Her Majesty's Theatre seems to have the advantage. Fiddle, promised by Covent Garden at the beginning of the season, has been laid aside, it being discovered that the clever and agreeable Madame Castellan is not strong enough for Leonora,—a thing which might have been known from the beginning. Now, however, this opera is to be produced by Mr. Lumley, with Mademoiselle Cruvelli in the part, and Mr. Sims Reeves as Florestan. When Fidelio disappeared from the Covent Garden announcements, Auber's Enfant Prodigue took its place ; but this too has disappeared. Meanwhile, the amateurs from all parts of the world with whom Lon- don is crowded, and who do not, like the residents, feel the want of va- riety, will find superb entertainments at both houses. The Huguenots, with Mario and Grisi in the hero and heroine, is a performance not to be paralleled in the world. At the senior establishment, the mighty La- bindle, entirely recovered from his temporary weakness, is mightier than ever. Sontag, too, has even increased in attractiveness this season. The finish of her vocal execution is something marvellous ; and, as an actress, her ladylike grace is combined with additional freedom and vivacity.
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