t4tatrto anti Musir.

Ifs philosopher would discourse on the aspect of modern society in the tone of a Diogenes or a Menippus, we would scarcely counsel him to choose the stage of a London theatre as the vehicle for communicating his thoughts. In the first place, an ordinary theatrical audience has no great relish for discourse of any sort, and no expenditure of wit and poetry will purchase its approbation when it fancies that these are offered as substitutes for action. An interesting story, told with as much brevity as is consistent with clearness, sails series of strong situations, make up the beau

ideal of a drama according to the present standard of taste. We are not vindicating a standard that requires so small an amount of genius, but

merely stating its existence. This explanatory remark is introduced be cause, ever since the day when the' dying Henry IV suspected that the wish of the then Prince of Wales was father to his thought, there have

always been people to fancy that he who utters an unpleasant truth is

regulated not byn love of truth in the abstract, but by a peculiar affection for the fact which is the subject of his communication. The theatrical world of the present day does not like much talking ;—there is a fact of the nineteenth century, which we state without a feeling on the matter. In the second place, the cynical view of life is not popular with the class of society that makes up the bulk of every mixed audience. To that eminently sophisticated being termed a "man of the world" the maxims of La Rochefoucauldt will appear a most charming enchiridion ; but La Rochefoucauldt placed upon the stage, and pouring forth dialogue composed of his own little sayings, would be the most unwelcome of individuals. Whatever Puritans may say against the patronage of theatres, there is no doubt that the ethical theory of a London theatrical public is as severe and as free from worldliness as that of a child. We would even say, that the moral standard of an individual is elevated as soon as he enters the precincts of a playhouse ; and that many a tradesman, who would cheat his customers 'without scruple, would honestly resent every maxim that should indicate a doubt whether there was not greater wisdom in fraud than in fair-dealing. A genuine English public—we are not talking of the habitues of foreign theatres, lyrical or otherwise— loves to believe that good is good and bad is bad, and looks with equal suspicion on the philanthropist who would prove that vice is only an amiable weakness' and on the misanthrope who declares that virtue is a mere mask) worn by some with less skill than by others. At the commencement of the present week, a drama was produced at the Adelphi evincing a talent far beyond that which is usually displayed in -works written for the stage. In most modern productions we feel clearly enough that the author is not really represented by his play, but that he has executed it as a job that is to bring him in a certain emolument, without going into the depths of his own mind for his characters or his dialogue. On the contrary, Mr. Watts Phillips, the author of Joseph Chavigny, as it is called, has really laboured earnestly in the elaboration of the single character whom he uses as his mouthpiece for a series of misanthropical reflections. .Toseph Chavigny is a rascal of the deepest dye who would commit any crime for his own private advantage, and combines the sordid love of gold depicted in misers of the old school with a proficiency in obtaining it that belongs to the burglar or the highwayman. These peculiarities would only make him a melodramatic villain, of a somewhat exceptional stamp ; but he is endowed with dialogue that converts him into a sort of vagabond sage. Indeed, so anxious is the author to impress upon us the intellectual superiority of his atrocious hero, that he places by his side a mere animal ruffian who has committed every crime without being troubled by any intellect whatever. The contrast between these characters is admirably sustained, and many of the caustic remarks of Chavigny are distinguished by epigrammatic force of no common order. But, for a modern audience, Chavigny talks too much ; and, measured by the standard of theatrical ethics to which we have already alluded, his discourse is too casuistical. Aware that he is had himself, he would constantly demonstrate that the world in which he lives is not much better ; and that is exactly the sort of doctrine that a mixed public does not care to hear. Had Mr. Phillips measured the peculiarities of a London audience as he has measured the idiosyncracies of his wicked wise man, he would not have expended so much labour and talent in constructing and polishing a work the BUCeess of which is most equivocal. Mr. Webster plays and makes up Chavigny with an individuality and an attention to nuances that may challenge comparison with the impersonations of a Lemaitre or a Bouffe ; but to make the work generally palatable is beyond his power.

A little farce, adapted from the French by Mr. T. M. Morton, and showing the inconveniences to which a householder is subjected when he lets lodgings, now serves as a preface to the luminous Richard II. The French work, which is by M3I. Bayard and Varin, is entitled Ilabitez done votre Inimeuble ; Mr. Morton's version is called An Englishman's

Ilouse is his Oastk. •

The two Italian Operahouses seem to be doing what is called "good business" at present. Both have strong companies, and at both the performances are evidently attractive. Yet never, perhaps, was the repertory of both establishments so narrow. Verdi is in the ascendant more than ever. Both houses almost live upon his operas; varying their dietary with something of Bellini or Donizetti, or—very rarely indeed—something of Rossini. As te Mozart and the older masters, they are as clean forgotten as if they had never existed. Verdi's popularity may induce a belief either that the general taste has sunk tO a low ebb, or that this composer has more merit than musical critics are willing to allow—perhaps both causes may unite to account for the phenomenon. His melody is plain and simple, easily felt by the popular ear, and demanding that quality in the singer which the popular ear most readily appreciates, great strength and compass of voice. But his airs are often happy and expressive ; and his orchestral harmonies, unskilful and monotonous, have something imposing in their loudness and resonance. The public, hearing little else, are getting accustomed to this style, and it is only now and then that we are made .sensible of its coarseness, when we are allowed to hear music of an older day. When the Barbiere di Siriglia, for instance, was given at Her Majesty's Theatre the other evening, Rossini's music sounded lighter, fresher, more delicate and refined, fuller of rich and graceful fancy, than it did at the very newest. The taste is depraved as well as improved by the objects presented to it ; and that the taste is undergoing a deteriorating process from the ,favourite music of the Italian opera at present, can scarcely be doubted. The Barbiere was produced for the debfit this season of Allioni, the most accomplished living singer of the pure Italian school which flourished when Rossini wrote that opera. She sang even better than she did last year : then her voice bore marks of fatigue; now, its freshness was quite youthful. Rosina is properly a low mezzo-soprano part, embracing the finest portion of Allioni's voice ; but in the exhaustless varieties of her marvellous fioritius she soared into the regions of the soprano, as easily and charmingly as if this had-been her natural range. Last year it was thought that she had injured her voice by the artificial extension ; and this may to some extent be the case, but certainly nobody could have found it out by her singing on Tuesday night. "Fat, fair, and forty," Alboni is certainly not the ideal of the young Spanish maiden, nor is her acting remarkable for grace or refinement; but there was about her such an air of frankness and goodnatured cheerfulness—her face was so comely, and her attire so trim—that it was impossible not to enjoy her whole performance. In Figaro, the character which comes most into contact with Rosins, she was admirably supported by Belletti; and Reichardt, though somewhat German, was a good Count Almaviva. Beneventano was more than respectable in Bartolo ; and Vialetti gave unusual effect to the part of i&K..1Ao, especially in the air "La calunnia," which he sang superbly He is evidently a man of talent superior to his position in the theatre. The success of Lucia di Lammermoor, with Piccolomini and Giuglini, has been immense. At its third performance, on Thursday, the house was crowded to the very ceiling, and the excitement of the audience was as great as when the young prima donna first appeared in the Trariata.

At the Lyceum, the favourite piece has been 11 Troratore ; which is rendered attractive mainly by the superb singing and acting of Grisi and Mario in the parts of Leonora and Maurice. Grisi is astonishing everybody this season—younger in aspect, fresher in voice, more vigorous in all her powers, than she has been for years. Bosio, arrived from Russia, has as yet appeared only in one opera, Rigoletto. She was to have performed in La Traviata on Thursday, but the piece was changed in consequence of Graziani's indisposition: it is announced for tonight.

PARISIAN THEATRICALS.

A new drama in four acts, written by MM. Lurine and Raymond Deslandes, again renders the Gymnase a subject of notice. Although this is perhaps the most important theatre in all Paris, the successes achieved on its boards are so great, and consequently the "runs" are so long, that its doings often remain unrecorded for months together. The trite proverb that declares a country happy when it has no history may be applied to the Gymnase. The new work is entitled Lee Comediennes, and is intended to give a picture of theatrical morals and manners. Fernando, the principal character, is an actress, distinguished from the rest by an enthusiastic devotion to her art. In the course of the drama, she becomes the mistress of one Maurice, a young gentleman of good family, who, finding that his character of protector does not allow him to afford protection enough, is resolved to marry her, provided she quits the stage. With this prospect of a happy future, Fernando prepares to abandon her brilliant career, refuses an engagement at St. Petersburg, and proceeds to sell her theatrical wardrobe. But she really regrets the sacrifice • and as the regret is discovered by Maurice, he suddenly leaves her, and the match is broken off. Six years elapse, and when the fourth act begins Fernando is about to appear on the stage for the first time after n long absence. She is informed that Maurice is in the house, and this intelligence is almost too much for her. She conquers her feelings ; but when she has reached the boards she perceives, seated by the side of Maurice, an unknown lady, whom she supposes to be a new mistress. This sight really overpowers her, and she is forced to quit the stage. However' Maurice pays her a visit, and gives a most satisfactory explanation. The strange lady is not his mistress, but—his wife. His heart has not been inconstant to Fernando, but, feeling that the adored actress would make too great a sacrifice by marrying him, he has magnanimously rendered the sacrifice impossible by marrying somebody else. With such noble conduct Fernando cannot be otherwise than gratified ; and the two lovers, though their hearts ache a little, part from each other, and pursue one the poetical path of glory, the other the macadamized road of respectability. If this piece is adapted " to the London stage,—which we trust it will not be,—we suggest the addition of a fifth act, in which Femande shall bring an action for breach of promise against Maurice, and recover damages. Such a catastrophe would alone reconcile the tale to the feelings of a British public.

The aggregate receipts of all the places of public amusement during the month of April amounted to 966,365f. 10c. ; being 260,822f. less than the receipts of the preceding March. This great decrease is attributed to the circumstance that the Holy Week occurred this year in April, and was solemnized by the closing of all the Imperial theatres four consecutive nights, and all the theatres without exception on Good Friday. The fact that the item of "miscellaneous curiosities" shows an increase in the midst of the general decrease is in favour of this view ; for such exhibitions, not being expected to keep ecclesiastical holidays, thrive by their exceptional irreligiousness.

CONCERTS.

There was a monster-performance of Elijak at the Surrey Gardens on Monday evening, when that popular place of entertainment was opened. for the season. M. Jullien was the conductor, and the band and chorus were stated ,to be a thousand strong. The solo-singers were the same as at Exeter Hall, and there was nothing remarkable about the performance save the enormous and unprecedented crowd which assembled to hear it. The whole neighbourhood was in commotion and there were as many people admitted into the gardens as could 'have filled the music-hall three times over. This certainly shows the advancing musical taste of "the masses ". for there were no adventitious attractions—nothing ad captandum migus—nothing but a performance of religious music of the most severe and lofty description.

"Mr. Henry Leslie's Choir" gave their first subscription concert of the season, at the Hanover Square Rooms, last night. They are amateurs, and do not perform for emolument ; their small subscription being only to pay for the room lights, music, and other incidental expenses. They sing the madrigals, glees, and part-songs of the ancient and modern schools ; and they have attained such a proficiency under their able director that they may be compared, not disadvantageously, with the choral bodies of Germany. These concerts, which are numerously attended, will extend the knowledge of a beautiful description of music,

Signor and Madame Ferrari had a benefit concert at the Hanover Square Rooms on Tuesday evening; and the Misses Birch on Wednesday evening, at the same place. Both were pleasant entertainments, consisting of favourite vocal pieces sung by favourite performers ; and both were attended by a large assemblage of fashionable company.