The Sun.
London, England, 1858-05-14 00:00:00

THE NEW OPERA-HOUSE.

This truly magnificent theatre is announced to open,
completed, to-morrow evening, and artists, architects,
builders, and performers unite in repeating the wondrous
tale, and showing how it can be done, how it is intended
to be done, and how it certainly will be done. It is in
vain that the uninitiated spectator appeals to the evi-
dence of his senses or talks of moral impossibilities. In
vain he points to armies of workmen and forests of
scaffold-poles, to colour untouched, to this part un papered
and that part unpainted, to raw walls here and wood-
work wanting there, and symptoms of opening on Satur-
day wanting everywhere. He is quietly told to judge
of the future by the past, to look on the time in which
all the real work has been done, and compare it with the
ample space allowed for what yet remains to be done.
When we last noticed this fine bnilding it was a mere
shell of brickwork, and we could only judge of its pro-
portions and magnificence by the plans which were in-
tended to be carried out. Now, in spite of the thousand
apparent evidences to the contrary, it is finished ; for,
though beyond a doubt some of the workmen will be
actively engaged preparing the stage properties up to
within half an hour of the time of opening to the public,
the theatre in all its important parts is nevertheless com-
plete, and as far as regards the audience portion of the
building it could, if necessary, have been opened even
yesterday evening. Our readers will be able to judge
how nearly it is completed when we inform them that
very little can bo said about the interior, for the exqui-
site decorations in white and gold are quite finished,
and the boxes are enveloped in a penitential sheet of
brown holland from floor to ceiling. Any of our readers
who have lately passed outside the budding will be sur-
prised at our assertion that it is nearly finished. We
e In assure them, however, that the evidences of incom-
pleteness outside are nothing, when compared with the
interior, for if we were to judge by the laws which ordi-
narily govern things, and which assert that a certain
amount of work requires a certain amount of time, we
should undoubtedly arrive at the conviction that it
would require a week at least to get the chips and
shavings out of the building, to say nothing of any other
labour.
It has often been said that behind the scenes of a
theatre is a little world in itself. At Covent-garden,
however, it is rather a large world, and, what is worse,
a world turned upside down—a chaotic and unfinished
world, in which nothing but confusion is at first appa-
rent. Entering from Hart-street, the visitor passes
through 'a short, dimly-lighted passage, and up a few
stone stairs, and emerges at once upon a sloping floor,
which at a glance at the lights, ropes, pulleys, sky
pieces, and huge gas-fittings, and ponderous machinery
above and around him tells him at once is the stage.
Than the aspect which this and the whole house seen
from it present, it would be difficult to imagine
aeything more strange, rich, and confused. The
scene docks are crammed with flies, drops, and flats,
some turned outward, showing the gaudy colours
and heavy streaks of paint which at night will
light up into a solemn cathedral scene, while others,
leaning neglected with their faces to the wall,
dimly shadow forth their purpose, and only show by
their wood-work where turrets and pinnacles arise, or
where a practicable door opens to give narrow escapes
to oppressed cantatrices and desperate heroines. In one
corner the men are building up, with all its intricacies
of diapasons and fugues, a large organ, big enough for a
church, and much bigger than very many have got ;
while nearer to the footlights a group of skilful carpels,:
ters are busy cutting out in thin wood the " massive
Gothic railings which divide the orthodox and heterodox
chorus in the last scene of the " Hugenots " In the
centre of the stage is a huge flight of moveable stairs
leading down nowhere, and giving stcc.sefor to nothing,
and he othing
and which the visitor is puzzled to account
balustrades, apparently as solid as those of
sees atone
being painted fur it, when, lo ! a light
breaks in upon big, arid he recollects the " practicable
a 0.P.," which also figure in Meyerbeer's great
steps oii'.," which also figure in Meyer'oeer's great
lyric drama. In the background is a raw brick wall,
over which, amid mysterious shouting, a drop-scene is
lowered half-way, leaving, as Mr. Obins would say,
"a princely domain, with ancient feudal castle and ex-
tensive lake," suspended in mid air. Men rush out of
unseen places, dragging colossal scenes of towns and
miusters after them, and which they preceed to join and
fit together; while others nail up bright skies and steady
buttresses of towers, or modulate the glare and flare of
gas to suit the tone required for a setting sun.
Same are employed in setting chambers up, while
others haul in great scenes from Hart-street or long
rollers swathed with countless yards of rough canvass,
which when the proper moment art ives will unfurl before
a delighted audience rich with the blaze of bowers and
feudal halls. Many are busy above wandering around
a labyrinth of ropes and pulleys, while from the traps
and slips which seam the stage in all directions, and
from which the strangest of noises aro constantly ascend-
ing, the visitor knows that even a busier scene is going
on beneath him, and that the very planks on which he
walks are, so to speak, mined and sapped, and that at
any moment a reckless carpenter below may make him
principal in such a scene of mysterious disappearance as
an Adelphi audience never thrilled to. The thoughts of
an involuntary coup de theatre of this kind make the
careful seek another and a safer spit, where no growling
cenversation, tarried on apparently with his heel, earns
him that he is in a dangerous neighbourhood, an4from
which rise sudden it pheaving of a " valley by moonlight"
might at any moment transport him to the flies above.
At the footlights he runs neither of the dangers we have
hinted at, as from here, of course, the heat view of the
" house" is to be gained, it is a point of view much
affected by visitors. Even here, however, the scene is
almost one ofequal confusion and variety, and painting

papering, and gilding are going on at once, while of
those parts which are finished it is difficult to judge, for
their delicate enrichments are covered with drapery,
and the visitor can only see them by glimpses and small
pieces here and there. However, even forming an
opinion from what is done and thus shown, it is easy to
see that, as in solidity and architectural proportions, so
in design and internal embellishments, the new Covent-
garden Opera-house will have no theatre in the world to
equal it.

pi
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Its
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that an amount of massive gilding and ornament which
would overload an ordinary theatre is borne upon its
crown and side columns with a lightness that becomes it
well. This portion of the work is superintended by
Monti. The sides are formed of richly carved and
twisted columns of gilt scrollwork. Over the centre is a
raised medallion portrait of her Majesty, with allegori-
cal figures of the Arts and Music, supporting a crown
above all. On either side, extending the whole length
of the proscenium, are two fine leas reliefs—one of
Orpheus and the Greeks representing the Triumph of
Music, and the other elevating ()ashen into a living per-
sonage, and depleting his poetic sway among the ancient
Britons. The ceiling is quite finished. It is circular,
and slightly dome-shaped or concave ; the whole has a
diameter of 65 feet at its springing, and is decorated
after a design by Messrs. Jackson and Son. The ground
is of a pale azure. It is formed into 12 compartments
by-broad ornamental bands of gold, which radiate from
a centre 12 feet in diameter, forming the circular venti-
lator. These radiating bands pass to a broad circular
belt of trellised work in gold. Beyond this belt or
"cove" there is a cornice of enriched gold mould-
ing, and in the space between it and the cove en-
riched hoses are placed at equal distances. The
compartments of the ceiling are divided by moulding's
having the appearance of golden cords, which are looped
up from the trellised belts. Golden bosses mark the
point at which the cords are looped, and from each of
them will be suspended by golden cords smaller chande-
liers, which will bang around the large central one.
There is no attempt at allegorical compositions in paint-
ing on the ceiling, the whole effect being sought to be
produced by a simple and almost geometric arrangement
of gold upon an azure surface. The quiet simplicity and
pleasant effect of this ceiling will contrast most favour-
ably with the daubing of colour or rococo ornament
which in too many cases disfigures the ceiling of our
English theatres. It is just what a ceiling should be,
light, simple, and elegant, and not crushing and over
loaded with bright-coloured and glowing decorations.
The dome part is supported by four elliptical arches,
which are ornamented with deep guilloche bands en-
twined with wreathe of ivy. In the centre of this ceil-
ing will hang the great chandelier, in itself a structure
of lustres and cut-glass quite in keeping with the de-
sign and richness of the house it adorns. It is perhaps
the largest and most elaborate chandelier of the kind
ever constructed. Its manufacture— that is, the
stringing together of the rows of drops and lustres----
occupied 50 men day and night for three weeks.
It is 18 feet high, 14 feet in diameter, and con-
tains three tons of the purest cut-glass. The upper
portion is formed of double festoons of drops in the
shape of a large tent. Level with the bottom of this
is a ring of 120 burners behind feathers of cut crystal
glass. These, however, are mere auxiliaries to the
primatio lanterns which form the lower band, each
of which is composed of double prisms and spires of
glass, and all lit by 460 burners. The bottom if;
made of a heavy drapery, so to speak, of cut crystal
drops, behind which are 200 burners more, so that this
superb little palace of crystal contains upwards of
120,000 cut prisms, spires, and drops, and is Ft by no
less than 700 gas burners. It is made by Defries and
Sons, of Hounsditcb, the manufacturers of the prismatic
mirr, re for the Sultan's new palace on the Bosphoraes
and both the design and execution reflect the very
highest credit on their manufacturing skill. The Bur
parts for carrying this brilliant mass of glass were tested
the other day to double the weight of the chandelier,
and, in addition to this, upwards of 20 men hung on to,
the ropes to place the matter beyond all possibility 0'
doubt. The' decoratiens cf the tiers of boxes are com-
plete, and the effect, at least from the parts, shown, je
rich beyond description. They are, of course, white_
and gold with the rest of the theatre. The lower tier
is adorned with a rich lattice-work of gold with figures
as supports. The grand tier is embossed, as it were,
with carved gilt work in high relief of the rose, thistle.
and shamrock. At a distance of 12 feet beautifully
modelled winged figures with foliated terminals supper
this, and a border of gold of the graceful lonic ovule
design whch runs round the upper space between the
bexes. The second tier has a similar enrichment, b 0,2
the border is formed of the Mlles of the valley, "7
the winged figures are cupids; while the upper tier 0
all is bordered with an ivy wreath. The division
between each box is formed by a Blight colon
of gilt scrollwork of very beautiful design, wilt
carry the line from base to summit, and vAlhiii
adding much to the richness of the genera
effect, they also materially contribute to the liguwe
noes and elegance of the whole. The boxes are li;eico,
with crimson and draped with curtains of rose P.
which imparts a look of fulness and warmth that relie!e__
the general whiteness of the rest of the house. All other
parts of the interior, even to the most distant of the
upper gallery, are adorned in the same style, with eq
taste and almost with equal richness. What, however,
is of more importance is that they are so constructed w"
tha all the audience can see every movement that p 5956
upon the stage. The only difference which the different
degrees of places make is one of distance from the PI:
scensium—as far as seeing is concerned all are equa,
Great care has been taken to provide for efficient se°!l.,
lation, and both in the boxes and galleries, as well as n
the ceiling, the apertures made for the escape of hot s'
are excellently contrived.
The crush-room is finished as far as regards its inter:
nal decorations. Its style is Italian, and its effect
exoellent. The Queen's box and Queen's private roc'!:
adjoining the entrance from Hart-street are nearly ready
—the latter, we may say, quite so. This room is a Per,
feet gem—decorated in white and gold with the nO7,
exquisite taste and richness, and with an effect that 10
really most brilliant. In the centre of this bavi_g
another beautiful chandelier of Defries's manufacture.,
,
of course smaller in size but equal in shape and deigo
with the great chandelier for the ceiling. The rto
ive 0
entrance for the Duke of B2dford is also finished, sad sla
the public approaches and passages are fit for use. e
seine places, however, there is a good deal of paintll7,
going on—rather more, as a rule, than an incautious%
sitor likes. The grand staircase, too, has much to be d°44
to it in the way of gilding and painting, but about Stir
being complete all are c. nfident. So much for the la.
side. Outside,, all that will be done beyond tido
e
away the scaffolding has been done. The apex of Ijo
portico will not be completed till after the theatrt4
opened, but it has been glazed in, pro tern., with a Wed
and furrow of glass and iron. The famous figureso
Thalia and Melpomene, by Flaxman, are in their nick
,c
on each side of the portico, and the metopes and os,
bas-reliefs from the same master hand are in front of
hoose, with back grounds of light blue. The rehearg;
are taking place at the Lyceum, and perhaps n°tbe
hour before the audience enter will the last traces of .a 0
workmen disappear from the new building. first
however, it will to-morrow, when we trust that the
~0
season will be inaugurated with a success that is due
90.
less to the skill than the untiring energy and pens
ranee of Mr. Gye.

----
[AnvnavisEsiszird—The indefatigable researches of Pfit.
Livingstone have suddenly made us acquainted with once
the happiest people in the world, of whose very oxis'e-la
little was hitherto known is civilised Europe generally. old
their ailments they never have recourse to cod liver oil, for
they are equally independent of physic and the physician,
Dr. Livingston found their staff of life to be the Revalf,
Arabica Food, which keeps them perfectly free from dis7if
" consumption, scrofula, cancer, &c., having been soarcwo
heard of, and the smallpox and measles have not been I+no °•
for 20 years." In England also the Revalenta Arabica Pni
duced a wonderful improvement in the health of the Pe°?'„:,
removing cough, consumption, asthma, debility, indigent 05;
(dyspepsia) constipation, nervous, bilious, and liver c 0 tie
plaints, and restoring the faculty of digestion, and ser•c. °ti•
muscular energy to the most enfeebled, as proved by Ir.
mouials from the celebrated Prnfessor of Chemistry
,„u;
Dr. Gattiker ; Dr. Wurzer ; Dr. Ingrain ;
Andrew ITre ; Dr. Shorlaml ; Dr. Harvey ; Dr. CamPu' 0
Decies ; the Dowager Countess of eastlestuart, and 50,r0v,
other well known individuals, whose health has been rests
by this useful and economical diet, after all other moans _of
cure had been tried in vain for many years, and all hope.,!,
recovery abandoned. Its effect ou the progress of popitlatPL,
is most favourable as exhibited by the Registrar-General,shotwo
lug for London au average of 1,780 weekly births againsd
mortality of 1,200, leavingahappy gain of 580, or nearso rijl
Lord Stuart
,1:14
cent. in favour of progress ; a result most cheering to
ro
classes, as it opens a fair prospect that by the more goPevrol
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Strand, London,

BIRTHS.
DUFF--on--onthe 9th inst., at Hatton Castle, Aberdeen9"hire,
Mn. as Du, of a son. ;If Pr
ITOSTE- J
Omen the 11th inst., at Sandgate, the wife 0.. - 11
lloste, C. 8., R.A., of a daughter. „et,
MANT—On the 13th ' inst., at 5, Great Jatnews"of 0
Bedford-row, the wife of George F. blunt, Es 4"
daughter.

MARRIAGES. Sit
CARMICITAEL—ANDERSON---On the 12th inst.4,ao3
John's Chapel, Edinburgh, the Rev. Sir Ari,"looofr
Gibson Carmichael, Bart., of Stirling, to of St'
Anne, eldest daughter of David Anderson, N9q"
Germains.
Zotg
WHITE —SIIITII—On the 12th inst.,' at St. Peter's' .000
square, Colonel Henry Balrymple White, C•l3"ibike,:
son of the latdVice-Admir 11 Sir John Chatnbors sArtl"
K.C.B.' w Louisa Mary, the second daughter of
Tucker Smith, Esq., M.P.

DEATHS. ester'
ISARNETT—On the 7th inst., at his residence, 25, b91:14
terrace, Regent's park, Richard Clemson Baroew,
aged 81.
BELL—On the 9th inst., at Shorncliffe Camp, °f
~P-
James Bell, Esq., younger of Euterkino, AYrs"'-e",
tain 4th Btta:ion Rifle Brigade. 9100 c
DALRYMPLE a—On the 10th inst., at Park-street, Orri,,oer°
square, Ann, Lady Dalrymple, wife of Lient':vbtet
Sir Adolphus John Dalrymple, Bart., and only dtil
of the late Sir James Grihain, Bart., of Birk gall;
GREGORY —On the 11th iust. at Wax Charialer4 ajar°
Mark Henry Gregory, Esq., clerk to the Wel Gb3u
Company, aged 63.
0p.,0
LONDON • Printed and Published by MURDO ll.
of No. 112, Strand, Printer, at The Sun Ofce' not/
112, Strand, in the Precinct of the Savoy, in 00 4.0
of Middlesex, Friday, Nay 14, 1818.