Wednesday.—Extra. Carmen. Derby Day. I have been at the Derby. Glad to get back again. As to "back again," I don't "back again" anything for a long time. But, à nos moutons. Toreador evidently has had his money on Sainfoin. Never sang better. Glad to see the simple Scotch lassie, Maggie McIntyre, once more as the village maiden. Charming. Zélie de Lussan as wickedly attractive as ever. What a collection such a gipsy would make on a Derby Day—a fine Derby Day—among the "pretty gentlemen" whose fortunes she would tell. Extra night this, and extra good.
Thursday.—A Wagner Night. Crowded to see Jean de Reszké as another Wagner Knight. Neddie de Reszké as the King Henry—every inch a King, and something to spare. Freddy Telramondo suits Dan Drady better than Don Giovanni. Madame Fursch-Madi as the wicked Ortruda,—("Never saw ought ruder than her conduct to Elsa," observes the irrepressible Mr. Wagstaff,)—And Maggie MacIntyre as the virtuous but unhappy Elsa. The stranger in the land of Wagner begins to wonder at the continuous flow of the melody, not one tiny cupful of which can he take away with him, until with joy he hears the Bridal Chorus at the commencement of the Third Act, and for a few moments he rests dans un pays de connaissance.
Friday.—Lucia di Lammermoor. Great night for Madame Melba. Recalled three times before Curtain after each Act. Living illustration of once popular romance, "Called Back." Great night, too, for Harpist and Flutist. Both gentlemen highly applauded, and would have been recalled, but for the fact of their not having quitted the orchestra. Harper plays solo from Harper's Miscellany, arranged by Donizetti. Ravelli the Reliable recalled also.
Saturday.—Brilliant house. Royal Highnesses early to come and last to go. Magnificent performance of Die Meistersinger. M. Isnardon very comic as Beckmesser, Lassalle a noble Hans Sachs ("the shoemaker who sings a sole-o," says Mr. Wagstaff), Jean de Reszké a grand young Walther, Montariol (as before) a capital silly idiot David, Mlle. Bauermeistersinger very lively as Magdalena, and Madame Tavary a skittish young chit in the somewhat trying and rather thankless part of Eva. The tenor's song to her ought to be, "Eva, of thee I'm fondly dreaming," if Wagner had only thought of it. Opera too long; but Wagnerites don't complain, and certainly to-night they get their money's worth and something over, from 7.30 till past midnight.
A SWEET THING IN CRITICISM.
Cardinal Manning, apparently having been invited by its author to express an opinion upon Mr. Wm. O'Brien's "When we were Boys," writes:—"When I got to the end, I forgot the book, and would only think of Ireland—its manifest sufferings, and its inextricable sorrows." His Eminence then continues:—"I hope to see the day break, and I hope you will see the noontide, when the people of Ireland will be readmitted, so far as is possible, to the possession of their own soil, and shall be admitted, so far as is possible, to the making and administration of their own local laws, while they shall still share in the legislation which governs and consolidates the Empire. Then Ken and Mabel shall be no more parted."
No doubt this excellent critique will be followed by the publication of letters somewhat similar to the following:—
Dear Mr. Apples,—I promised to write to you after I had used your Soap. When I had finished washing my hands, I forgot everything but gallant little Wales. I hope to see the morning, and trust you will see the evening, of that time when the bold sun of freedom will shine over a land true to itself, as far as possible, and rejoicing in the name of the country without stain. Then will we all say, "Good afternoon," followed by the customary inquiry. Believe me,
Always yours very faithfully,