The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1853-07-26 00:00:00

THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD, TUESDAY, .TETLY

THE

! Tii

E IHEATRES OF

JOURNAL.)

The gas is li,4Lted along the boulevards—it streams from
all the cafes—bat it lights only gilded and painted solitudes.
The dominoes have ceased to clatter on the marble tables,
the dame de comptoir, seated in state, leans back in her
enthroned chair, casts one glance at her pretty person in
the surrounding mirrors, then produces from some secret
drawer the last new novel of the author a la mode, and
forgets her troubles in those of the heroines before her ;
and the waiters 101 l around the doors, or flap the flies
with their napkins, or noisily express their private
opinions of politics, women, the arts, and affairs in
general. All the world is at the theatres. The carriages
flashing by convey the great and fashionable to the Opera
or to the Itatiens ; the peaceful (acre takes the less pre-
tentious ; and along the asphalte pavement, arm-in-arm,
go the modest bourgeoise with her husband—the work-
man, in a clean blouse, with his neat and merry little
wife—whilst artists and editors saunter after, with that
easy, elegant, impudent air of a class having a comfort-
able conviction of its own merits, fully conscious of its
power, and fully aware of how to use it.
The Grand Opera !• the school of so many others,
where the worst part is the singing, and the best the
dancing, where pageantry reigns supreme, but in such
perfection, that, instead of vulgar parades, we have artis-
tic pictures of bygone scenes and ages, grouped as by a
painter's art—an orchestra made up of artists, each a
master of his art, imbued with the spirit of harmony,
drilled by innumerable rehearsals, with no fault but that
they forget there are singers to follow in their wake, and
that voices can but shout, and dare not sing, to be heard
above the din of one hundred musicians, blowing, scrap-
ing, and drumming with all their hearts and souls, but
the ballet!—that is the real thing here. An assemblage
of youth and grace—conventional grace, but still grace
for all that ; fresh, elegant dresses ; smiles, flowers, white
arms, small feet and slim ankles; eyes which know where
to look to seek applause and bouquets. No wonder the
side-boxes filll—no wonder that moustaches of every hue
quiver over the parapet—that editors and writers of dra-
maticfeuilleton are so courted. Here is a whole phalanx
of protege's, dancing themselves into public favour, money
and distinction, and a whole host of protectors, applaud-
ing, helping, and admiring.
Ah ! the press is a great power in France, for there
newspapers are a medium for other interests than mere
local politics, stock exchange reports, or civic twaddle.
Paris lives as much for the intellectual as for the positive.
The very men who toil and chaffer all day, read a thea-
trical critique or an artistic review with as much interest
and unction as they do the money article. True, your
Parisian journalist pays a price for this sway. He has,
through years and years, educated the public, and now
the public can judge him. He cannot write carelessly,
or faithlessly, or ill. He must be well-informed, witty,
sarcastic, intelligent. He must have a style, he must
have ideas, he must choose, not merely string his words.
And so, like those kouris who dance through the ballet,
a mere shade or gleam in a great picture, one day to come
forth stars like Taglionis. Grisis, Grahns and Rosatis,
the journalist serves a hard apprenticeship, doing first the
drudgery of paste and scissors ; then the reclame, or
puffs ; then set to producing canards or humbugs—events
invented, names and all, to fill some special mission of
puffery ; and from thence to the leading article.
There is less envy and jealousy among the women in
Italy than in any other country, because beauty is more
general there than elsewhere. It is perhaps because there
is greater talent among the French journalists that there
is less envy and bitterness than in the press of other
countries. There is a struggle, but with fair weapons—
intellect end talent; and there is a thorough esprit de
corps.* The rights of one are the rights of all, the posi-
tion of one is the position of all. Then they are a genial,
social corps—they have a society of their own. Joyous,
brilliant, they strive not for official sinecures as a goal,
they aim not at conventionality or prudish gentility.
They love the luxuries of refinement, but they love not
the ceremony or the trammels of rule. They are gene-
rous, warm-hearted, easy and elegant in manner, squan-
dering both their wit and their money freely • devoted in
their friendships, and letting not one golden drop of
enjoyment fall from the cup of life. Admitted into all
circles, the press and artistic world of Paris form a circle
outside all others, which is their own peculiar home and
sphere. The magnificent abodes of the queens of the
drama are their trysting- places. Here, night after night,
month after month, year after year, the sparkle of wit
and champagne has crowned the evening, When all toil
is done, the critique of the play or opera, written on some
malachite or bubl table in the hostess's drawing-room,
within hearing of the gay laugh and punning repartee
from the supper-room, conveys to the Paris morning
paper some of the grace and sparkle of the place whence
it sprung. The gamin from the printing• office knows the
various haunts, and startles with the magic words, " More
copy !" one guest after another from his resting-place.
In Paris there is no starring system for favourites.
They begin in one theatre, and there they make their for-
tune and position ; so that actors and actresses have
permanent, if not legitimate, homes. Here, as round
some planet, revolve all the other members of the artistic
world. The women are nearly all beautiful, clever, grace-
ful, witty, and, if not learned, appreciative. A Parisienne
knows everything by instinct; and as for the men, they
include all that are rich, handsome, noble, renowned or
intelligent, from the highest station near the throne to the
most insignificant penny-a-liner. There is uo license,
notwithstanding the great liberty of conversation—nor do
these representatives of the arts offend good taste by any
freedom of action. Excepting that the women are more
beautiful and the men more witty, there is scarcely any
difference between the salon in " Boheme" (the nick-
name of the artistic world) and a salon in the Chaussee
d'Antin

"Bobeme" is what confers great power on the press.
With such allies, what a large circle can they not com-
mand ! All the frequenters of these artistic salons are
&lip.. not .€ —...agefs, speculators, bankers, booksellers,
forethe journalists whom they sea royal l'
it is in Ftance only that the royal " we" of the
reviewers has its full royal acceptation. In France it is
as good—nay, often better, as times go—to be a reviewer
than a king.

But now, at the Grand Opera, all these joyous
children of " Boheme" are at their work. The first tier
has filled with all the rank and fashion of the higher
spheres. Divided into private boxes holding four or six,
it is maurais ton to have more than two ladies in one
box—the display of draperies and graces would be im-
peded. In these boxes the toilettes are decidedly ball—
nay, even court—costumes. You will see many of these
fair ladies rise before the last act, and leave the house for
the various embassies, the Faubourg St. Germain or the
Tuileries. Above, in the second tier, are simpler dresses.
The boxes are filled to their capacities—the attention to the
performance is greater, and the visitors are fewer.
Below, in orchestra and pit, are none but men. No
women are admitted to such very uncomfortable places as
a perpetually-moving pit affords in every country ; only
here and there is an intermediate state—a sort of purga-
tory, between the Paradise of the boxes and the Pande-
monium of the pit—called l'amphitheatre. This is five
or six rows raised at the back of the pit, fenced in with
gilded balustrades, and containing comfortable arm-chairs.
A woman of any pretensions to fashion or distinction
would rather never go to the Opera in her life than go
here, though the seats are quite as dear as anywhere else;
but Fashion has abandoned these places to the unknown,
the provincial, and the dowdy.
Between the gilded columns which divide the house
on either side are the boxes of the various ministers them-
selves to some of the higher employees.
Those four proscenium boxes so gorgeous with mirrors,
velvet, and gilding, represent the three powers of society.
The lower one to the left is the royal box ; the one oppo-
site belongs to the royalty of wealth, represented by
Aguado Marquis de las Marismas—once a retailer of
Spanish wines, now a grandee of Spain, and a financier
of Rothschild proportions; above is the royalty of
politics, typified by the ambassador of Austria ; and, op-
posite the royalty of fashion, represented by the various
bearded faces and gloved hands of the members of the
Jockey Club or Loge des Lions. To this box are ad-
dressed all the glances, the pirouettes, and even the
roulades and the passionate appeals of the mimic scene
with real meanings. There, at some decisive moment,
sits enthroned some dreaded feuilletonist, courted by the
" protector" of the dancer or singer, now in action—
flattered, fawned on by the lions, ferocious and super-
cilious to all, but gentle and genial to the almost almighty
journalist.

- The draft which that pen can draw on fame is as valua-
ble to the fair postulant, oh, splendid lion ! as the draft
yours can draw for her on your banker. It is not a clique,
or a claque, or bouquets. or bonbons. that can make a
success—it is a word of praise from Theophile Gautier,
Karr, or Janin ; for you will not persuade the public,
accustomed to these oracles, to listen to the fiat of any
other. Geoffroy, the critic, made Talma, and Janin made
Rachel—made her, step by step, with inexorable judg-
ment, rise from a prodigy, uncultivated and wild, into a
genius refined, classical, passionate, and sublime.

* Certain journalists nearer home might read this sen-
tence with advantage.—Ed. L. S.

SIR JAMES BROOKE.—lnstructions have been sent, to
the Governor General of India, directing him to issue a
commission to inquire how far the position which Sir
James Brooke holds in Sarawak is advantageous to the
commercial interest of Great Britain.

THE WELLINGTON FUNERAL CAR.—The lord cham-
berlain has given directions that the funeral car of the
late Duke of Wellington, being now placed in a tempo-
rary building in the court-yard of Marlborough-house, be
exhibited to the public on Mondays, Wednesdays, and
Thursdays free, and on Tuesdays and Saturdays by ticket.

Mn. COPPOCK barely escaped being tarred and feathered,
last week, by the electors of Harwich, to which place he
paid a visit "professionally." Fortunately for him, some
of his minions got scent of the fun, and by aid of his
party he made a hasty retreat, and by sneaking out of the
town avoided the distinction which awaited him.

A MATTER 0' MONEY.—At the Lewes assize, on
Tuesday, an action was brought by a Miss Hore against
Mr. George Duke, gentleman farmer, for a breach of
promise of marriage. The defendant, who is a widower
of forty-five, had paid attentions to the plaintiff, a lady of
twenty-five, and promised to make her his third wife.
The plaintiff was reputed to have a fortune of £9,000 or
£lO,OOO, but the defendant, paying a visit to her solicitor,
found out that this was contingent on a somewhat remote
Possibility of her surviving her mother twenty-one years ;
and soon after this, defendant ceased his attentions, and
finally, in the presence of the plaintiff's solicitor, dis-
tinctly expressed his determination to break his engage-
ment ; in consequence of which, the plaintiff brought this
action. Damages, £4OO.

HOLLOWAY'S PILLS, A MOST DESIRABLE AND EF-
FECTUAL REMEDY FOR BILIOUS COMPLAINTS AND
DISORDERS OF THE STOMACH.—Extract of a letter to
Professor Holloway, dated July 5, 1851.—" Sir,—l, the
undersigned, declare that. for a considerable time
laboured under a severe bilious complaint and never could
digest any thing that I eat ;in consequence of which I
passed many sleepless nights. I tried various remedies,
without obtaining any relief.. I then betook myself to
using your valuable pills, which have wrought a perfect
cure. I am now quite well, and enjoy my food better than
ever I did in my life. Signed, T. Pti
Paramaribo." C, Van de Lando,

HORTICULTURE.

Stove, Greenhouse, and Conservatory.—The manage.
ment of plants, which have finished their flowering season,
must still occupy the attention of the gardener; any neglect
of these matters will be fatal to the display next season.
Camellias which have been kept under cover to form their
next growth will require to be hardened off as soon as
this is complete. Remember that nothing is of more im-
portance to these beautiful and essential plants, than that
they should have a well-protected place during their expo-
sure out of doors ; particularly avoid much exposure to the
sun, which they do not like—nor should they be crowded
together, plants which love the shade more than all others
are injured by over-crowding—means must be found to
protect them from heavy rains. Chinese or Indian Azaleas
should have somewhat similar treatment, except that they
require sunlight to ripen the newly-formed buds.
Flower-Garden.—The lovers of herbaceous and other
hardy plants should now be on the alert, as it is a good
time to propagate good and choice sorts ; almost any part
will now strike with proper management; for this purpose
bed in some shady part of the garden, with soil com-
posed of one-half sand and the remainder vegetable mould.
Pipings, and layers of Pinks and Carnations must be put
down, and cuttings of Pansies, under a hand-glass, will
strike freely. Neatness must be secured in the flower
borders by keeping the plants tied and staked, and all ill-
placed shoots and branches removed.