The Sun.
London, England, 1868-03-24 00:00:00

PUICE.... 4d.
STAMPED sd.

phonist safely avoided the fatal rocks, and the style of that
recitative vividly recalled the Don Carlos of Verdi, and the
le.aust of Gounod. Albeit, it threw over the whole act a
ch 11 that was not dissipated by the air of the King, who
prays when Hamlet stabs the " damned Dane." That
serene, so moving in Shakspere, is painfully abortive at the
Opera. The fine trio —4 Allez dons un cloitre, allez
Orpheli s!" did not even suffice to break the ice. As to
t ho grand duo between the son and.the mother, one misses
it i it the great effects such a capital situation is susceptible
o f —it was merely a scone of tragedy most correctly noted.
a iwever, the plaudits were as eager as numerous. But
the real success began only with the scene of Ophelia, who
fills up the fourth act. The village fete, which divertises
with I, o much apropos the dark and terrible colour of the ac-
tion, is ,► happy idea, and the sp:Ttators never wore so much
delighted at eyeing the Cinderella feet of Madame Fioretti
joyously cadencing a polka-mazurka rhythm of much dis-
tinction. Ophelia suddenly appears, Ophelia already mad,
her head fantastically dressal wits wild flowers, and in
that poetical and bizarre attire Paul Delarocho has so gra-
ciously painted. In that act, everything is the theme cf
a song—spring, joy, and the madness of an unfortunate
love—of a gracious and poetical delirium. Ophelia's hand
strews flowers, enchanting notes spring from her mmith.
Her madness seems to be a subverted spring. She first
sings a most sweet and melancholy andante, " A vos jeux,
ma ands, perntettez-moi de grace." Then, surprised, by an
importunate and doleful remembrance, she recites this
ballad, impressed with ineffable melancholy, " Paile
et blonde, dort sous.: l'eau." At last, attracted almost
mechanically by the marks of sympathy of the dancers,
she is led to imitate for a moment their pastimes,
and sing this waltz air, which was hailed by peals of fran-
tic applause. "Partagez mes ileum." Meanwhile, day is
waning, the villagers go away, Ophelia draws near the
bank of the river to gather flowers. She is seen gradually
sinking, and finally disappears under the reeds. A few mi-
nutes after one distinguishes her body floating on the water,
her ernes slighay raised up, and flowers still dropping from
her hands, while the chorus of the villagers returning home
is heard in the distance.

The inspiration has not abandoned the maestro during
the fifth act. The song of the gravediggers is highly cha-
racteristic. Then Hamlet sings a romance in the most
moving style. The chorus at Ophelia's burial is full of
melancholy sonorousness and majesty. Lastly, Hamlet sur-
excited by his father's phantom, who again appears, kills
the King, takes the crown, and the curtain falls to be
raised again at the tremendous command of the public,
who acclaim both composer and singers. Who were the
virtuosi?

Faure, whose Mephistopheles is present to the memory
of the English dilletantes, sang the part of Hamlet ; Belval
was Claudius; the tenor Colin, Leertos; Mdlle. Christine
Nilsson interpreted Ophelia, and Madame Gueymard the
Queen. But the parts of Opholia. and Hamlet eclipsed the
others, and both were admirably sung. Mdlle. Nilsson
created quite &furore, and no wonder, for she possesses all
the attributes of a first-rate cantatrice and actress ; her
physiognomy was the very ideal of Ophelia. She possesses
great dramatic intelligence; her voice, tasteful, vigorous,
and pure, fills up without any apparent effort the immense
house of La Quo Lepoltier. The spectators returned with
usury to the Northern Diva the flowers sho was dropping
fflom her white hands. Methinks that Malibran was
never approached so nigh. In dying as Ophelia did,
Madlle. Nillson is sure to never parish in the artistic
world.

Faure fulfilled the part of Hamlet with his usual =a-
tria ; and he also achieved a triumph, and ho sang in such
a way as to render most difficult the task of the baritones
who may aspire to play Hamlet. Never has been so ex-
cellent a tragedian, so incomparable a singer.

_ .
Far from diminishing, the success of hamlet is going
crescendo at the Opera. No doubt the impressarii of Old
Drury and New Covent-garden will have it on their bills
of fare for the approaching season.