The Sun.
London, England, 1856-05-12 00:00:00

Y,

4//2
'Z
-7N
pgrg, or overall, or thin-strokerg, like some of the6l--) --
contemporaries. Some of their attitudes were , were perfectly ,i4j -1;;;44
beautiful. Madle. Katrine, too, is a graceful, .charming,i3
artiste. The ballet, then, like the opera, g's ad,Ved, noir 44;
cede, and we may congratulate Mr. Luraiey:*attArtipor
the very auspicious commencement of his new mai:lag:gig.' -o
career. Between the acts of the opera the isitvcsarfo
was unanimously called for, and walked across the stage
amid enthusiastic cheering.

(From the Times.)
We firmly believe that when, by 8 o'clock on Saturday
evening, the huge audience had filled the wide space al-
lotted for their accommodation in her Majesty's Theatre,
a spirit of general satisfaction was diffused over the whole
assemblage, though the first chord had not been struck
by the orchestra—though the first wicked sister of Cene•
reutola had not yet uttered her opening phrase of self-
commendation. There was the sensation of being once
more in the old house that bad ea long held an undis
puted preeminence as the focus of everything brilliant
in London society—the conviction that the world of
fashion was once more at home. Everybody as he en-
tered looked round the edifice, just as, after an absence
of several years, one surveys some residence of earlier
years, to which belong a thou,and associations more or
lees sentimental. The very sight of the boxes gradually
filling round that vast arena and of the conversion of the
vacant series of stalls into a compact multitude of well-
dressed persons had all t he peculiar interest that attaches
to the revival of a custom which is universally familiar,
and which, from some cause or other, has fallen into
desuetude. All seemed so old, and yet so new. Faces
closely connected with the establishment in the memory
of former habitués were eagerly sought out and recog•
nised ; congratulatory nods were interchanged by
the occupants of contiguous boxes. The interval
of something like three years that had elapsed
since the same parties had met in the same place
seemed to fade away like a dream, or like the trance of
that, min-arch in the Eastern tale, who dipped his head
Jett, a tub of water, and, after passing through a series
f imaginary adventures, found, on his emersion, that
trey hal all take❑ place within the limits of a second.
There had occurred, indeed, a few trifling events to give
s imething like reality to 1853 4 5, and many within the
period indicated by those figures bad found their geo- •
graphical knowledge enlarged by familiarity with such
names as Sebastopol, Balaklava, Inkertnan, and the
ike, but that reality could hardly stand its ground be-
fore the spectacle of Saturday last, so exactly did it fit
the ancient or er of things, We hear that when Old
Style was changed into the New, by an act of Parlia
ment, declaring that the day immediately following the
2d of SPpternber, 1752, should be reckoned as the 14tb,
an indignant mob gathered together, shouting, "Give
us back our 11 days I" Could we not, with this old
story in our recollection, almost imagine that the ele-
gant multitude of Saturday, finding the interval between
1852 and 1856 completely shrivelled up, was inclined to
-jacula•e, " What has become of our tines years ?"
Nor was there anything in the appearance of the
house itself calculated to belie the notion that some great
chronological convulsion had been effected. Had it
looked very dirty, or, on the other hand, very bright
with new painting and gilding, the link would have been
broken—those three years would have had their visible
record. But, no ; there was the house just as we had
left it—neither older nor newer. There were those
same panels that had first dazzled the public eye in
1846, just as they looked when toned down six years
afterwards. There were those amber curtains that, in
the same 1846, had given rise to so much and such
sharp controversy as to their effect on opera costume.
The lava of Vesuvius had not more completely pre-
served the rooms in the house of Sallust than some mys-
terious influence had fixed all the contingent pheno-
mena appertaining to her Majesty's Theatre, that it might
ook unchanged en its resuscitation. There was the
whole affair all over again, under its most pleasing
,spect—namely, that of being occupied by an audience
that filled it in every part.
One other circumstance of identity ought not to be
iverlooked. There was still the same manager as in
the '• good old times," the Fame Luniley to whom the
public bad been indebted for refined amusement fur such
a long series of years, and for whom it had so often
.pouted on the occasion of some brilliant success. Cer-
t•tin we are that no figure was more thoroughly present
to the minds of the whole audience on their fild. entrance

into her Majesty's Theatre than that of the opera-chief-
tain, whose rule had been distinguished by the debut
)f Jenny Lind, the immortal pas de quatre, and so many
glories both of the lyric drama and of ballet. No sooner
ead the curtain descended after the conclusion of " Ce-
nerentola than the calls for " Lumley" already began
to mingle themselves with the applause at the per-
tormance.

So much for the influence of the past on the brilliant
put lie which, on Saturday, wa,i gathered within the
Nails of her Majesty's Theatre'; so much for that love
for old institutions which still exists in spite of the
modern innovating spirit, provided always those institu-
;ions do not take the form of heraldic proclamations.
Such influences while they promoted good humour, also
neightened expectation, and, therefore, we should hasten
u add that rarely have expectations been more corn-
itetcly satisfied than on Saturday last. The good
iumoar that went in at eight o'clock was heightened
.uto positive joyousness before twelve.