THE THEATRES, MUSIC, AND FASHIONS.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 178, 4 January 1875, Page 4

THE THEATRES, MUSIC, AND FASHIONS.

fFrom a correspondent of the Press.) ItSbi. Paris, Oct ober 31. VaudeTille—This house has run of good luck. Each new A fails to hit the public taste, Bstrees,” a comedy in three ri Bivtere, is not an exception, navy captain, and divides his is frigate and literature and i has written some fair novels, i, the better to illustrate that reduce dramatic pieces is a ■om that demanded for rocessful dramatist must have icatrical instinct; this M. He is, however, a most painsiisbed writer; his style is ■efnl, but it is not the style ly or drama; it is the elegance He evidently aims to imiit it does not suffice to adopt : a master, without carrying time his manner of serving a plqt. Iterthe is married to Bichard d’ Bstmis; ‘ both are young, rich, and have married for love, yet they are unhappy ; they manage to save appearances, but a few intimate friends perceive fogs in the household. Among other explanations, Bichard accuses his wife of not appreciating bis literary labors. The Marquis de Cimieuse is an old diplomatist, married to a dashing young wife; to ensure her affection, he has supplied her with carnages and all the luxuries of fast fashionable life, and as a reward she laughs at him. She is Berthe’s friend, and proves it by falling in love with her husband. Richard blnntlyavowing he loves the Marquise. The latter, however, lays down, that their love must never go beyond a moon and stars adoration. Matters are at this stage when the old Marquis calls on Berthe, makes known his suspicions that his wife loves her husband, and exacts, since he has to return to his post, she will keep watch and ward over the pair to avoid a common misfortune. This mutual association against adultery is soon put to the test, as that very evening Richard and the Marquise elope ; but hardly have they arrived in a cottage outside Paris, than Berthe presents herself, and is declaiming away, when the Marquis is admitted. The latter to test that Bichard has not dishonored him, invites him to shake bands, which is done. The Marquis pardons his wife, and Berthe throws herself into her husband’s arms, promising to out-rival the Marquise in those spells by which she spirited away her -Richard. The piece has been pruned down, which may lengthen its days for a little, but the public neither relished the Marquis nor his wife, and showed it by laughing outright as the actors were occupied in the serious part of their roles . To have escaped this contagion was the most creditable part of the interpretation. This comedy was preceded by an amusing one-act piece, entitled “ Entre deux Trains,” a capital vaudeville of the olden time. In addition to being very gay, it is well played. A newly married husband lives in the country, and one day his wife has occasion to go to Paris, She leaves by the morning train, and is expected home by another in the evening. It is between these two trains, that the husband received the visit of an ancient mistress, and the servant has managed to invite her soldier friend. As I evening approaches, the master desires to en- & abje his visitor to depart without the servant i being anything the wiser, and vice versa. Both § visitors are locked in pantries, facing each | other; the master tries all the means posJ aible to send the servant away, to ensure his | escape; the servant being occupied in solving the same problem in her own interest. At I last they consent to take chloroform to kill I time, and as they snore the impatient prisoners come out of their hiding places, and 5 the situation is thus understood. The sleepers 'pi aie awakened, and both make a vow to guard an eternal silence over the revelalions. 'fcj Cluny. This theatre has brought out a ;.W three act drama, called “ Fails Divers,” by f. M. Paul Manuel, the incident being intended p| to find a place in the “ sundries” column of y the journals. The drama has certainly been H only composed for the last scene, and the plot ii based upon the worn-out adultery property. Dr Guerin believes he has a jjattern wife, he is a model of virtue and honor himself, as all deceived husbands on the stage are; his wife is propriety itself, only she is unfaithful, she cannot explain why she has selected one Varney, the friend of the family, for a paramour; she confesses she is very sorry, cries over her sin in private, resolves to lead a new life, becomes as austere as a Puritan, and hardly sends Varney away, than she discovers an excuse to recall him. The Doctor leaves for New York for several months to arrange about the inheritance of some property; he begs Varney to look after his wife, but the latter dismisses Varney, requesting later his return, as she discovers she is enceinte, which she conaidei B perhaps an attenuating circumstance. To conceal her shame, she goes to the country to effect her accouchment; prematurely taken ill, the village is searched for a doctor ; none can befound. Fortunately the train from Havre draws up at the station, and a servant passes from carriage to carriage, inquiring if there be a doctor among the passengers who would come and save a dying lady. Now, Dr Gu6rin was in the train, returning from New York; he volunteers his services. On entering the house, Varney tries to stop him, alleging it is bis mistress who is ill. "That makes no matter, we doctors are bound to secresy, and my place is beside the invalid ” replies Guerin, and so passes into the sick chamber. In a short space he returned, announced to Varney the mother was dead, but the child was alive. “ My child,” exclaimed Varney. “ Not yours according to law,” replied the doctor, drawing forth a revolver, and killing the man who had dishonored him on the spot; he then proceeded to give himself up to justice. This last scene was moving, but failed to cover the inanity of the first two acts. Gymnass.—Here, “ La Princesse Georges” has been revived, in order to introduce a Mile Tullandiera: This young person has been trained by M. Regnier, the retired actor; her father is a Moor, her mother an Italian, and she was born at Portici, under Vesuvius; two years ago she could not speak French. This is all that is remarkable in the young debutante, who has been heralded as a marvel, and has shared the fate of not proving one. The plot of the play is this : the Princess is a charming, high spirited lady of twenty, married to a worthless young husband, who with eight centuries of nobility behind him, and possessing not a sou, receives a fortune of four million francs with his 1 wife; he proves unfaithful to her before a year; with* one of her friends, Mme de lenwpbnde., He arranges to elope with this

lady, and is actually transferring two millions of his wife’s fortune to his account, when M, de Terremonde, warned of his wife’s intended flight, surprises her misconduct with another admirer, M. de Foudette, and shoots him. Poor Mile who created the role of the Princesse with such incomparable talent, is but too recently dead to be forgotten. It was something like presumption to give as her successor Mile Tallandiera, whose strong voice and wild look may in time be trained for tragic pieces. Now the play of Dumas is a comedy, with some parts dramatic. The Princesse is a jealous wounded lioness, by her husband’s infidelity and perfidy ; but she is also the grande dame as well as a princess, and the new actress is neither of these. After a distance of three years the public shows itself dissatisfied with the play, which has no conclusion, and conveys no moral. It is badly constructed, but well written. The women in the dramas of Dumas are not made as other women ; his wives, his mothers, his husbands, his notaries, resembling nothing to be found in this nether world, and yet he has the reputation of being the most shrewd observer of society. M. Ballande has re-commenced his popular matinees litteraires ; they promise to be well supported; while inculcating correct ideas of dramatic literature, they encourage young authors who aspire to write for the stage. A distinguished critic, M. de Lapommeraye, has announced what is likely to prove a happy and remunerative idea, that of holding a conference once a week, where he will handle all subjects connected with the theatre and its literature. If his discourses only equal his writings he can count upon success.

Music,— -National Opera, “Faust” with Patti for Marguerite, did not enable the Diva to alter the verdict, now definite, that her great gifts are limited, and that the French school of music is beyond her grasp as a whole. Her Marguerite was superior to her Valentine, though at best it is but a delicious disguise. Child of the south, she can never become a Gretchen. The music of Gounod has not the same vigorous expression as that of Meyerbeer, and if it be less pathetic, it is not deficient in tenderness and delicacy. Valentine is a heroine, Marguerite is a woman—but an adorable one, opening her heart to love, as the flower to the morning breeze, and who, even after her fault and her crime, conserves a character that interests, Meyerbeer’s grand and passionate music could not express the touching traits of Marguerite’s character, a creature unconscious of vice, yielding without resistance to the impulses of her heart, experiencing those secret aspirations of the young girl in love, the trouble of that budding passion, which she still ignores. Then the mystic music of Gounod, of a veiled and poetic sonority, where each vaporous and undecided phrase is full of irresistible tenderness, justly expresses woat it is intended to reveal. Valentine is ideal; Marguerite and Juliette are personages of real life, possessing the weakness and the thoughtlessness of their sex, hence more touching, because more natural and true. Several cantatrices have have endeavored to fill the role of Marguerite, but none have surpassed Mme Carvalho, who created it. A beautiful voice and knowledge of the theatre are not sufficient to interpret Marguerite; the artiste must identify herself with that personage, experience her secret sensations, and having a heart beating in unison, Neither the talent and grace of Mme Patti, nor the success of Mme Nilsson, have equalled the perfect triumph of Mme Carvalho. Patti always thought most about her voice in the role of Marguerite, and which she directed ever with marvellous ability. In the air of the jewels she was incomparable, introducing a little coquetry and naivete, quite in harmony with the role. Owing to her imperfect knowledge of French, she had to take several untimely “rests;” in the church scene— Nilsson’s triumph—Patti was too calm; she forgot the terrible grief which makes a desperate appeal to Divine mercy; she was admirable, however, in the prison trio, and was deservedly applauded, executing—what is ever dangerous for an artiste— the vwrccau a second time. The oichestra was not well directed, but the choruses were excellent. Theatre afforded a conc.usive proof of the splendid voice and dramatic ability of the new star, Mme Pozzoni. Her beauty is very remarkable, but her flourishing health, united to a full habit, destroyed something of the illusion of the consumptive Violetta. Yet she commanded success, and interpreted the role quite in a new manner. In the first act she quaffed champagne with a brio and dash, in keeping with the joyous courtezan: and in the second and third acts, the passionate character she gave to Violetta, was faultless. As Amelia, in “ Un ballo in Maschera,” the talent of Mme Pozzoni was more at home, astonishing and delighting the audience by the pathos and energy of her singing. Concerts.—M. Pasdeloup has resumed his popular Sunday concerts; the immense winter circus is too small to contain his admirers, and where the humblest as well as the richest can find a place to listen to the purest music, executed by an orchestra, every member of which is a celebrity. The season for chamber concerts has not yet -set in. Fashions. The materials for present toilettes are rather coarse, and consist of cloths of various shades and colors, but where neutral tints dominate; the price varying according as the stuff is more or less rich in wool. With this material a demicostume is made, destined to be worn upon a jupon of English velvet, for no lady’s wardrobe can henceforth dispense with this now famous jupon. That rich silk stuff matelasse has become solidly fashionable, and some dressmakers prefer it to velvet, which is not so marked a favorite. In some cases there is a mixture of matelasse and velvet, whi'.h is not unbecoming, provided the robe has neither povff nor trimming, nothing but a plaited tablier , and be in addition cut to perfection. Many costumes are to be met with consisting of faille and green velvet in two shades, as also of vigogne of two tones. The dolman continues to be in favor, and promises to be eternal. The straight paletot has its admirers, and the cuirasse, demi-adjusted, its devotees; indeed, the veston has many disciples. These are made up in matelasse, a material which, dispensing with all ornamentation, can yet be encountered with trimmings, adopted to colors and tastes. The large loose coat in velvet, with its Watteau plait, plain or covered with lace, jet, and parsementerie, is ever elegant. This Louis XV. mantle, however, exacts a splendid robe. In the way of hats, there is a decided tendency to return to white. Nothing is more elegant, more becoming than that color. They are made up in white felt, faille, &c- At the theatres, hat* in velvet and felt are general, trimmed

with rosea without leaves, assorted of course to the silk. The Fra Diavolo and the Tyrolien hats, with falling border before and behind, are in much request. As a rule hats, in point of ornament, reflect not a little the toilettes, a profusion of pearls, spangles, &c. In very elegant hats white lace enters as an element, but this partakes a little of ceremony. Cock’s feathers are the mode as much for trimming hats as robes. Velvet cuirasses can be met with, marvellously embroidered, all sparkling with spangles and branches of gold and silver. For young girls blue or rose cashmere is the prevailing material, the robe being very plaited.