OPENING OF THE ITALIAN OPERA.
ELTELERT0 it has seldom been the policy in the management of this house to open it with any great attraction either of singers or compositions, but to take some well-worn opera, and with that rub gently on till Easter, vow- ing and promising all the while for better things to come. This course has been entirely altered on the present occasion; and Mr. Lumley has released himself from the necessity of protesting his future intentions, by perform- ing at once the part of a spirited manager, and opening his house in full- blown choral magnificence. The sounds which greeted our ears on Satur- day were scarcely inferior in breadth and grandeur of combination to those which characterize the mid-season, when Grisi, Lablache, and Mario lend their potent aid to the general effect. The music was new; and its unusual recommendation was, to have been brought here direct from Italy, without being tasted at Paris by the way; while the new singers, Madame Rita porio and Signor Botelli, were in their several kinds far beyond the average merit of the introductions of a first night.
Of Verdi, the representative of the musical genius of Young Italy, whose Ernani was now performed, we have had various opportunities of judging, which confirm us in certain impressions of the character of his talent. The first work which extended the reputation of this composer was the Nabucodonosor, an opera magnificently represented at La Scala in 1242, when we had the good fortune to witness it. This production was said to exhibit a new pen, in the lyric drama—which was in some respects true; and the characteristics that we then noticed appear as strongly marked in the later opera of Ernani. Both works are rendered striking by a peculiar magnificence in the choral combinations and concerted pieces; the voices of the principal singers are shown off in fine contrast with the chorus, or united with them in an ensemble of massive harmony; all which evinces a feeling for some of the most powerful effects of the lyric stage, and may be reasonably hailed as a welcome revival of classical and truthful traditions. But this is the extent of Verdi's talent. He is better calculated to create a cer- tain effect with an assembly of second-rate artists, than by the exhibition of first-rate powers single-handed, or in a duet or trio. His fault is to have little melody, and withal very little fancy, science, or ability in the display of the orchestra. He is not likely to replace Ballini as the idol of the solo- singers, by affording them material for the display of their elegant vocali- zation—the cantilena of Verdi has not elegance enough for that: but in the grandiose style of his choruses and concerted pieces he is considerably like him, as well as in his system of writing for the orchestra; which is as pick, and 11s. little effective, elegant, or various. The piquant resources of instrumentation are still appropriated by Rossini and. Donizetti; whose brilliant and beautiful accompaniments divide the attention of the hearer between the stage and, orchestra.
Ernani is represented in four parts or acts; an extension of plan bor- rowed from Meyerbeer's operas, which, in pieces of costume and pageantry rather than of vital and truthful interest, contributes much to tedious- ness. Elvira (Madame Rita Boric) is on the eve of marriage with her old uncle, Gomez de Silva, (Fornasari.) She has, however, two other and more promising lovers,—one whom she favours herself; Ernani, (Moriani) and another who prosecutes his suit without particular encouragement, the Emperor Charles the Fifth, (Botelli.) Ernani and the Emperor are old enemies; and the same affair brings them together at night in the apartment of the lady, when Gomez comes to the rescue. Er- nani subsequently places himself in the power of the old bride- groom, discloses the designs of the Emperor on the lady, and induces him to join in a scheme of revenge; after which, his life is again to be at the disposal of Gomez. The Emperor pardons both, and bestows the hand of Elvira on Ernani; who, not to sully his honour, kills himself. The design is to display the romantic honour, the adventurous love and generosity of Spanish chivalry: but, burdened with the conventions of the modern opera, the progress of the action is slow, and its effect artificial. We see more of armour, of gay colours, mantles, and mustachios, than of the movements of the human heart in passions that belong to all time and survive the outward shows of things. But of the artificial school the opera is a most favourable specimen.
The heroine, Madame Rita Boric, is a fine woman, of unusual embon- point, and possesses a well-toned soprano voice, of considerable power and compass. Her happiest efforts were exhibited in an energetic performance of the concerted music; to which she imparted unusual power and effect. As an actress, she attempts nothing out of the ordinary routine of operatic heroines; nor does she as a singer depend upon any uncommon stock of fioriture. Her style, if somewhat confined, exhibits much that is judicious and musician-like. Botelli has a barytone of good quality; and would have done better on this first occasion to suppress his injudicious and ineffective roulades—above all, a cadence more than once repeated. Mo- riani's tenor sounded beautifully—of the very finest quality: but it is plain. that he must husband his resources, if he would avoid a flatness which threatens him by habitually trying his lungs at their full stretch. Even. Fornasari had on this occasion less than usual of his harsh and uneven/ tone, and contributed good service to the ensemble, particularly to the sestet which occurs in the finale of the first act; a noble piece of harmony and effect, which does great credit to Verdi. The solo pieces generally, want novelty of style; but they are helped off by the good voices and the never-failing address Of Italian artists.
The new ballet, Eoliste, ou to Dryads, is a fanciful spectacle, with some novel and beautiful scenic effects, shadowing forth by transparencies— though not in the most luminous manner—a few leading incidents of mystical German legend.. Eoline is a young lady with a double existence; half woman, half dryad. Her form, fairest of mortal mould, is animated by a sprite of vagrant habits: by day she is all that is correct, but at twi- light her erring spirit hies away to make a night of it in the woods- " sporting her oak," as college wags would say, and quaffing mountain-dew out of acorn-cups with a bevy of wood-nymphs. In justice to the young lady's character, however, it should be observed that she is not aware of these freaks of her other self; neither is her betrothed: yet her form, en larged to portentous proportions, is seen by wood-cutters going to work, gliding homeward among the trees under the castle-wall in the gray of the morning. Whether her husband-elect would ever have missed his bride's spirit during its nocturnal ffittings, we are left to surmise; for the wedding never takes place. There is a rival in the case: a gnome burns with love, for the demi-dryad; and, not content with popping in and out her chamber through the wall and floor, he pays personal court to her in a full-dress of fuliginous hue, and magnetizes her in a " mazourka d'extase." All will not do: Eoline refuses to fan the flame of his passion; and the gnome flares up in another way—he sets fire to the forest, and converts the trees to charcoal. Thus burnt out from its ligneous lodging, the wood-born sprite ascends to the skies in an ethereal form, leaving its fleshly tenement lifeless.. This final conflagration is a dazzling display of stage-pyrotechny, with- without the disagreeable accompaniments of sulphurous smoke and smell: the sparks, at once brilliant and innocuous, glitter as they fall like the golden shower in the lap of Danae. This device is worthy of imitation in all cases of fiery catastrophes on the stage. It was seen by but a small pro, portion of the Saturday audience; the performances having been protracted; by various delays incidental to the production of two splendid novelties on the same evening, till more than an hour past midnight. But the most enchanting scene of all is the haunt of the Dryads; a grove of oaks, sud- denly revealing the beauteous sprites that tenant their trunks and people their boughs. This is one of the most felicitous representations of a poetical fiction on the stage: the waving arms of the Dryads seem incorporated with the limbs of the trees, and the interlacing branches appear instinct with life. The scenery is by Mr. Charles Marshall; who has proved him- self a worthy successor of the Grieves.
It were to be wished that the scene-painter could infuse some of his pie. turesque feeling into those who have the dressing and grouping of the corps de ballet: the torrents of white muslin that inundate the boards- " in one weak, washy, everlasting flood "—should be tinted with rainbow dyes. The Dryads are all in white, with only a little sprig of green to de. note their sylvan origin. Surely, Wood-nymphs are not so devoid of taste as to repudiate colours?—the perpetual contemplation of the changes of foliage, from greenest spring to golden autumn, would teach the instinctive delight in colour; to say nothing of their intimate acquaintance with the gay wild flowers. And why should they all wear the same livery? Even the lurid garments of the Gnomes might be varied to the extent of the hot colours: they might range from burning sulphur to smoke, nay, might in- clude blue, without ceasing to be flame-colour. We protest against this sumptuary law of uniformity: even sea-nymphs should not be confined to ooze frocks and coral head-dresses; and spirits of air ought to wear sky- blue at least, if they may not dip their mantles in the gorgeous hues of
sunset. This would necessitate such an artistic grouping of the figurantes
as would conduce to really-pictorial effects. The sole object that our stage-managers seem to have in arranging their groups is to cover aa much space as possible: number and quantity are their elements; give them colours, and they would convert the stage into a bed of tulips, in- stead of culling the flowers of the ballet and arranging them in bouquets. But we are forgetting the dancers. Mademoiselle Lucile Grahn becomes the Dryad well: her figure is "tall and straight as a poplar tree," and she stands on one foot as if planted in the ground. The feature of the
dancing is the "Pas d'Extase"; in which Perrot's demon intensity in- fluenced the pantomimic expression of his partner. M. Toussaint, the
mortal suitor, is, like most lovers, somewhat insipid. Signor di Mettle has no part in Eolinei.. and the Viennese children are called home by their parents—very prudently. The stare of the ballet, Cerito, Carlotta Grisis and Taglioni, have yet to appear.
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