THE THEATRES.

BRAHAM'S new theatre opened on Monday evening. Expectation filled the street with a long line of carriages, and surrounded the doors with an impatient crowd, who amused themselves with gazing at the un. finished portico, and wondering if the interior would present similar in- dications of haste,—speculations which were assisted by the noise of hammers and other notes of preparation, sufficiently audible through the closed doors. Inside, however, every thing was complete and in per- fect order; and the aspect of the house, when the gorgeous chandelier in the centre, the girandoles, and stage-lamps, poured floods of light into every corner and recess, was beautiful and brilliant in the extreme. The ornaments are at once rich and simple, modelled in the purest taste, and clothed in a delicate white colour slightly warmed With an invisible vermil tint ; which brings out, in fine relief, the bril- liant .gilding, and sweetly painted groups, which decorate the fronts of the circles of boxes. The exhilarating influence of the place was not

lost upon the audience, who marked their satisfaction by repeated ap- plauses, pronouncing the St. James's the Paragon of Playhouses.

To our former description little remains to be added. The fluted columns that support the proscenium give stability to this most archi- tectural part of the building, and increase the airy effect of the lofty roof poised on the heads of the sustaining Caryatides. The prosce- nium itself lee think somewhat heavy, and too much broken up into com- partments. The magnificent chandelier is too massive to harmonize with the prevailing character of the building ; and moreover its design is not strictly in accordance with the decorations. It is of copper silt : we cannot help thinking that glass would have been more in keep. mg, as well as more lustrous. These are objections, however, which may not strike others so forcibly ; and at all events they do not interfere so as to destroy the effect of the ensemble. The house is admirably cal.. culated to show the company to advantage. It is said to be copied front a Continental theatre—the Court theatre at Versailles ; but it is, at the same time, in the old English fashion, before the foreign nuisance of pri- vate boxes found admission into our national theatres,—those gloomy caverns whose yawning mouths shed rays of visible darkness over the whole house, and give it an air of dismal solitude even when it is most crowded. The innovation is in all respects a bad one ; and we are glad to see that, while it is spreading more and more in every other theatre in London, Mr. BR &HAM has wholly rejected it, limiting his private boxes to those sanctioned by long-established usage. It was delightful to look at the circles of boxes, filled round and round with company. It reminded us of the olden time. The entertainments commenced with an address written by Mr. JAMES SMITH, one of the well-known brothers who laid the founda- tion of a considerable literary reputation by the celebrated " Rejected Addresses," at which all England laughed from side to side some five- and-twenty years ago. It will be seen to have been free and fanciful —clever in its points and allusions ; mid was cleverly spoken by Mrs.

SeLev,—attired in white and gold, the livery of the house.

Hovering 'twixt hope and fear, I come in haste To know if what you look on meets your taste?

Survey our carving, ponder on our gilding, • And use your hands—thus—if you like the building.

You seem well seated in our Muse's bowers,—

Crowded, perhaps; but that's your fault, not ours. Those girandoles insure us from the dark ; Medallions, Watteau—a la Grand Monarque; Pit comfortable, rounded to a tittle, And not too large ; perhaps, to.night, too little. Those tall white Ladies who uphold the frieze

Are named Car—(what ?—Car—Caryatides; Perhaps (if here Pm out, suspend your laughter) So call'd, because they carry roof and rafter— A petticoat police on rising salary, To cry out, ' Order, order !' in the gallery,

Here risen upon you, like a rampant lion, As Thebes of old was sung up by Amphion. All's not quite done ; we're still in deep committee;

We mean to start a railroad from the City,

With branches, well secured by bolts and hooks, To join St. James's parish with St. Luke's.

Critics may cast that burden from their shoulders—

Railing is now confined to joint-stock holders. Here ends my tune as trumpeter : what follows Seems an affair exclusively Apollo's.

That God of song, at sixes and at sevens

With mighty Jupiter, who rules the heavens, Too weak with Jove's red thunderbolt to battle, Dropp'd down on earth to tend Admitus' cattle ;

He struck the light guitar' for nine long years ;

And when can't' upwards to the House of Peers

(Take down my words, reporters' while I say 'ern)

He left a son on earth, and called him BRAIIA31!

From infant years he now has tuned his lay— How well, it ill becomes not me to say. Grant ' tit for tat,' excuse my woman's whim; He gave his voice to you—give yours to him ! Here in St. James's now he wakes his lyre, And rears an altar to his radiant sire ; Who views, well pleased, this temple to his praise, And gilds our pillars with his parting rays. Aid then our offering ; sanctify our cause ; And grant us, gods, one thunder of applause !"

The address and its fair speaker were exceedingly well received, particularly the compliment to BRAIIAM, which was enthusiastically .! responded to. Then began the serious business of the evening ; if so we can designate the performance of a comic opera, or burletta, of the lightest kind—Agnes Sorel, composed by Mrs. A'BECEETT. As a drama we can only speak of this piece negatively. It has no plot, no incidents, no characters, no dialogue, no interest — "no nothing," in short. When we say no dialogue, we mean spoken dia- logue; for there is a good deal of musical dialogue,—though the au- dience, not being supplied with books, could make very little of it. ' Dr. JOHNSON said that he could form a very sufficient notion of a book without cutting open the leaves; so we, judging of what we did not hear from what we did, concluded that the whole was little worth. We gathered, however, that the subject was a passage (a fictitious one, we believe) in the early life of Agnes Sorel, the celebrated mistress of Charles the Seventh of France. She is represented as living with her uncle, Baron de Linden, in whose house the King, disguised as an officer, is recovering from a wound received in battle. He of course becomes enamoured of his young hostess ; and his Minister, the Count Dunois, her previous lover, coming also to the castle, to his surprise and annoyance finds his master there. They come to an explanation; and each resolves to prosecute his suit,—the King "waiving his rank," as they say in the army. They commence operations by trying to get each other out of the way ; and the piece is made up of two or three trifling manceuvres for that purpose ; the chief of which is a despatch from the King, appointing Dunois generalissimo of the forces, and ordering him to take the command instantly. Dunois retorts by using the authority con- ferred on him, and orders his rival to set out before him. This is posi- dye'', the only remarkable incident in the piece ; and from it one may judge of the stuff the whole is made of. Dunois beats the King at this game; and his Majesty is forced to declare his rank to avoid being sent away. But the lady all along prefers the Monarch, and Dunois's silly de- vices, of course, come to nothing,—a most lame and impotent conclusion, which every body clearly foresees from the very first, even without the aid of the knowledge of AGNES SOREL'S after history. This piece is said to be taken from the French. If so, the taker has shown small judgment in his choice; for he might, with very little trouble, have taken a much better thing. The prevailing indifference to the dramatic quality of musical pieces is much to be regretted : indeed the insensi- bility of composers to this consideration is quite astonishing—it is de- grading to their art, and injurious to themselves. The music is in the modern Italian style, and continually reminded us of Rossistr and his followers. This was to be expected from Mrs. ATECKETT'S Italian education. No composer. whatever may be his genius, has at first a style of his own. His earliest works are in the manner of the school in which he has studied ; and consist, indeed, in a great degree, of a reproduction of the ideas of his predecessors. It appears singular, but it is true, that as a great composer grows older in the practice of his art, he becomes more and more original ; and this is found to hold good even to the end of the longest musical career. Mrs. ATECKETT is not to be blamed for having necessarily imbibed the faults of the degenerate school into which it was her fortune to be thrown. But every musical school affords the means of gaining a knowledge of the principles and practice of the art ; and there is that in Mrs. A'BEceETT's music which makes us believe that she will by degrees shake off the trammels in which her genius is now bound. Her reminiscences of ROSSINI, BELLINI, and other composers of that class, to whose compositions she has probably been accustomed almost exclusively to listen, are not more numerous than is inevitable under such circumstances; while they are mingled with many new and beautiful conceptions : and there were even some entire pieces in which we could hardly trace a vestige of imitation. Her taste, even when she is not original, suggests to her the most agreeable passages ; and her music in its tout ensemble is melo- dious, sweet, and elegant. Expressive we cannot call it ; for the insipid drama could not possibly awaken the sensibilities of the com- poser; and yet there are in it indications of the power of writing ex. pressively when opportunities offer,—particularly an air sung by BRAHAM, in which Dunois is thinking with tenderness on the lovely Agnes. The symptom of Mrs. A'BECKETT'S doubtful allegiance to her musical masters, appears in her rejection of their come, clumsy, and boisterous instrumentation. Her orchestral accompaniments are ingenious, delicate, and transparent ; a circumstance of auspicious augury, as it shows a spirit of independence little to be expected from so young a disciple of a school whose most remarkable feature she has avoided.

The opera was exceedingly well performed. BRAITAM himself has returned like a giant refreshed. His:looks give token of unimpaired health and strength ; his voice retains all its richness, compass, and power, and his style its exquisite finish and endless variety. Mr. BARKER, who was the King, is an immense acquisition to our vocal corps. Though he appeared for the first time on the London boards, there was nothing of the debutant about him. He has a light and flexible tenor voice, of very fine quality, and uses it like an accomplished musi- cian. Of Miss Gsossoe, who personated the heroine, we shall speak more fully hereafter. Her appearance is prepossessing, and her voice good; but it would be hardly fair to criticize efforts made under the in- fluence of extreme timidity. The choruses were well sung; the orchestra was numerous and good. On the whole, we are convinced that this company is sufficient for the effective performance of the best operas ; and for a good selection we trust to Mr. BRAHAWs knowledge, experience, and well-known love for all that is great and beautiful in his art.

The scenery is cleverly painted,—the view from the gardens of the chateau, by TONIKINS, in particular ; and the interiors are picturesque and characteristic. The scenic effects in the ball.room scene, and that where the knights are assembled in the court-yard, with the ladies above waving their banners, are imposing. The costumes we cannot much admire. The brightly-studded mail of the knights is fashioned too much like pantaloons and gaiters to awaken chivalric ideas ; and the cuirasses and epaulettes of the troops betray so evidently the ignoble

block-tin, that it is difficult to resist culinary associations. Mimic armour of gilt leather is much better, and almost preferable to real, because it assimilates with the tinsel of stage-dresses.

The interlude entitled A Clear Case has at least the merit of brevity ; and serves to introduce Miss ALLISON, a very promising young actress of the hoydens and madcaps. She personates a petti‘h, wilful, overgrown school-girl, impatient of restraint, tired of teachers, and eager to get married in order to be her own mistress and do as she likes. It is a vivacious and spirited performance; and (Inc that makes us hope that Miss ALLISON will hereafter fill the void left by Miss KELLY in the class of characters which Mrs. JORDAN made so entirely her own. The farce of The French Company,—which, from the slightness of its construction and the quantity of puns in the dialogue, is evidently by the author of the interlude,—is a pike de eirconstance, intended ap- parently to bring out the talents of the rest of the company. Made- moiselle JOSEPIIINE dances a pas seul, with agility and neatness ; BARNETT personates a Frenchman, and gives a capital bit of imitation of LEMAITRE ; MITCHELL is comical and voluble us a barber ; and a Mr. GARDINER shows quaint humour as a waiter. Mrs. SELBY, who is a very agreeable and lady-like actress in comedy, Mrs. GARRICK, and her daughter, a fine young woman with a pleasant manner, and SEI.RY, FORRESTER, and STRICKLAND, make up together a very efficient light corps for petite comedy and farce.