THE THEATRES.
" Her Majesty's Theatre "—long, but no longer, the Italian Opera, since a rival is making mighty preparations for taking the field—opened on Tues- day evening, and thus gave the accustomed signal for the commencement of the musical season. This is the beginning of the year according .to the calendar of fashion; the time when the bright stars of rank and beauty rise above the horizon, and appear in dazzling constellations to the eyes of the stargazing multitude. The first night of the Italian Opera is always a brilliant scene, anticipated with curiosity and interest; but this year the curiosity and interest were excited in a tenfold degree, and the brilliancy as well as animation of the scene greatly surpassed any previous first night that it has been our fortune to witness. The war which has raged ever since the formation of the rival opera was announced—a war, by the way, in which the supporters of Mr. Lumley have stood almost entirely on the defensive—has spread its rumours over all England, nay over all Europe; and the sensation produced by the reports of the "first night," hitherto con- fined to the salons of Mayfair, will be felt from Naples to St. Petersburg.
These accounts will show that the manager has already fulfilled in some of the most essential particulars the expectations held out by him in his prospectus of the season. Everything the public was told to look for at the opening of the theatre they found; and they were neither backward nor cold in marking their satisfaction. We are pretty sure, that not a few who, influenced by false impressions, went to scoff, remained to applaud when they found those impressions destroyed by the evidence of their senses; and the small demonstrations of determined hostility were drowned by the united voice of the audience.
The new orchestra and their conductor have all along been especial ob- jects of attack. It was gratifying to observe, therefore, that when Mr. Balfe took his place, he was welcomed by a cheer from every part of the house, which pnt all idea of dissent out of the question. And both he and his troops showed throughout the evening how well they deserved such a reception.
Donizetti's opera, La Fasorita, was the piece chosen on this occasion, probably with the view of affording an advantageous d6faat to the young tenor, Gardoni; for which purpose it was eminently calculated. But inde- pendently of this, it deserved to be produced on the score of its merit
and attraction. Without entering into any description of a work so well
known, we may observe that it has hitherto been known in England by means of very lame and impotent performances; and that, even to those who
imagined they had thus become acquainted with it, it had on Tuesday evening
almost the effect of absolute novelty. In La Fanorita, Donizetti, like Rossini, at the close of a long career, appeared under a new aspect, put forth powers of which nobody had imagined him capable, and produced an opera which, in depth of thought, simple grandeur of design, and extent of harmonical skill, may claim kindred with the masterpieces of the German school. It is difficult to account for so strange a moral metamorphosis in the case of a man who had numbered fifty summers and produced fifty
operas; but such is the fact, and musical metaphysicians may solve the problem. It is, morever, an opera of great difficulty on the stage; de- manding tragic as well as vocal power in the principal performers, with a chorus and an orchestra such as have never yet been heard in an English theatre.
The most prominent character, that of .Fernando, the passionate but proud.lover of the unhappy " favourite " of the King, was sustained by Gardoni. His engagement was a leading feature in Mr. Lumley's general programme; and much, therefore, depended on the success of his ddbftt, as it would settle, in one way or the other, one point of the great Opera question. That when weighed in the balance he would be found wanting, it was evidently wished as well as feared,—this being apparent from the attempts now made to show that such has been the case. But the public have decided otherwise, and the question is at rest. Gardoni is very young—about three-and-twenty, we understand. He is somewhat above the middle height, graceful in figure, and with features of almost ideal beauty. Their regularity, however, does not detract from their expression, which is strong and varied, though the soft and tender predominate. In this respect they resemble the sound of his -voice, which is exceedingly sweet and plaintive; but it is a powerful organ too, and does not fail him in expressing the most violent and stormy pas- sion. It is a pure tenor, -remarkably equal in its tone through its whole extensive compass. A disciple of the new school of Italian singing, he con- fines himself almost entirely to his chest-voice rarely using the falsetto, and altogether avoiding the roulades and florid embellishments of which the singers of the older school—the Davids and Rubinis—were so profuse, and which are not yet thrown aside by many of their successors. With Gardoni there is nothing thy or meagre in this simplicity; the penetrating quality of his tones, "in linked sweetness long drawn out," the passionate earnestness with which they are uttered, leave not a thought of or a desire for ornamental divisions and cadences. He took his position with the au- dience in the very first scene, in the aria parlante in which Fernando re- lates to the old monk his first meeting with his unknown beloved. His cry, in answer to each of the good man's remonstrances, " Padre, io r.!" was electrifying. His monologue in the fourth act, containing the air " Spirito gentil" (the vocal gem of the opera) was equally remarkable for dramatic truth and exquisite beauty. The concluding scene, in which the unhappy Leonora dies in his arms, was almost too painfuL His cries for help, and the accent in which he said to his aged friend, pointing to her body," Mira—Leonora!" continued long to sound in our ears.
Signor Superchi, who likewise occupies a prominent place among the announcements for the season, performed the part of King Alfonso, and more than fulfilled the expectations formed of him. He is a baritone, with the same range nf "business" as Tambmini and Fornasari. To the latter he is immensely superior; how he will stand his ground against the former, remains to be seen when they come into competition. We incline to think he-will; for he performed an unpleasant part, which affords small room for the powers of an actor, with excellent good sense, and showed himself a very accomplished vocalist. His style is as remote as possible from that of Tamburini —who with all his merit, is a decided mannerist. So simi- lar, or rather identidal, were the fioriture with which he used to embroider every air he sang, that the phrase, cleverly applied to them by a critic, that they were " stereotyped," has since been a thousand times repeated. Superchi sings with great simplicity, depending on the fine portamento of his soft and flexible baritone voice, and the smooth cantabile style of his execution. His part contains one of the finest things in the opera, the air at the beginning of the second act, "Ah, se amare il Re to puoi "—a beau- tiful effusion of love and tenderness, which he gave with the deepest feel- ing. It is certain that Superchi is quite competent to maintain the high place he is destined to hold in the company.
Of the " Favourite" herself, or rather her representative Mademoiselle Sanchioli, we cannot speak in terms of such high commendation. This lady has energy, and a zealous desire to do her best; but her efforts were marred by physical defects of voice, uncertainty of intonation, and inabil- ity to meet the heavy demands of the composer, who, having written the music for Madame Stolz, taxed to the utmost the powers of the Parisian prima donna. Mademoiselle Sanchioli has qualities which would enable her to succeed in less ambitious attempts.
Signor Bonche, the last of the " illustrious strangers " who appeared on this occasion, is a basso profondo of considerable vocal power, and evidently an excellent musician. He gave much effect to the character of the monk Baldassare; especially in the scene where he hurled at the King's head the thunders of the Church, roused by his unhallowed passion. In the fine concerted music, his full-toned voice and firm execution were conspicuous.
The choral singing was something quite new in this theatre,—and indeed in this country,—unless, perhaps, when Ficklio was performed by the 'rat German company, who came to England in Mr. Monck Mason's time. The choruses in La Favorite are introduced with much greater dramatic pro- priety than in most modern operas. They consist of persons who enter deeply into the business of the scene; as, for example, the group of nobles, who, indignant at the dishonouring marriage of Fernando, receive him with sarcastic scorn, and thus precipitate the catastrophe. The brief expression of their joint determination (the chorus " Se tenti almen ") was given with an energy which produced a general encore; and when Fernando appeared, each individual, by his animated gestures, seemed to take a part in the quarrel. This dramatic chorus-singing, familiar to the French and Germans, is an entire novelty on our Italian stage. Musically speaking, too, the choruses were excellent. The voices were numerous and well balanced; and their aplomb was admirable. Last, but not least, comes the instrumental orchestra. This, ever since the disputes began, has been pat forward as the weak point of the old
establishment and the strong point of the new. When the old Opera band, with their general at their head, went over to the enemy, poor Lumley, "Deserted at his utmost need By those his former bounty fed," was supposed to have received his coup de grace. But what ignorance was involved in this supposition! Of all things, where financial means are not wanting, the formation of an orchestra is one of the easiest. Every•con- Ariderable town in Europe swarms with able instrumentalists trained under a better system of discipline than is known in England. We boast, and with reason, of our instrumental talent, and are especially proud of our Philharmonic Concerts, where it is found in its highest state of combined action: but it is notorious that their symphony-playing will not stand a comparison with that of the concerts of the Conservatoire; that even Costa, at the head of the Opera band, has never been able to produce the delicate nuances of the Academie Royale; and that there is hard- ly a minor theatre in Paris whose twenty or five-and-twenty per- - formers do not put Drury Lane to utter shame. If there were a dozen operahouses in London, with means to carry them on, the fil- ling of their orchestras with good performers would be the least of their difficulties. Mr. Lumley, accordingly, has filled his orchestra with good performers; and their state of discipline under Mr. Balfe must have been evident to the most careless observer. Their numbers were complete; their individual talent was often evinced by the effects they produced singly; their way of accompanying the voices was delicate and subdued; and their combined volume of tone was full and powerful. Where the crash of the brass instruments was occasionally overpowering, this belongs to the prevailing system of instrumentation, and is necessarily found in the best-regulated orchestras.
The audience showed themselves fully alive to the merits of the enter- tainment. When the curtain fell, and the principal performers had been called for, there were loud and general calls, first for Mr. Lumley, and then for Mr. Balfe; and when those gentlemen successively came forward, they were received with peals of congratulation. The new ballet, founded on La Motto Fouqud's story of Undine, but
called Coralia to distinguish it from the Ondine of some years ago, has much in it that is good; but it is too long, and too wanting in striking fea- tures, to distinguish it from former works of the kind. -Alma is imprinted in our minds by the " False de Fascination," Esmentlda by the " Truandaise," Ondine by the " Pas de l'Ombre 4; but we -do not find any such remarkable point in Coralia, excepting a scenic effect, where the waters rise over the palace of Sir Hildebrand, and the stage is filled with set pieces and aquatic spirits in a manner splendid and extraordinary. The new danseuse, Mademoiselle Rosati, is to the last degree elegant and interesting; and her features, though small, are capable of the most varied expression. Her
success is unquestionable; but we have yet to see whether she will take a rank like that, for instance, of Carlotta Grisi, to whose style her own bears a resemblance. Marie Taglioni, a namesake of the celebrated. Marie, and daughter to Paul, has achieved a decided triumph in an episodical pas soul, by the great force and vigour of her dancing. There is something completely original in the appearance and face of the young debutante, and she seems destined to become a favourite at this establishment.