Till quite I forget Messrs. Welby and Meeson
(Those despots of law) and my failures, and fees un-
Liquidated as yet, and myself—and the season!
AT COVENT GARDEN LAST THURSDAY.
Production of new Opera, Amy Robsart, arranged (and very well arranged, too) from Sir Walter Scott's novel, by Sir Augustus Harris and Paul Milliet, the English adaptation by Frederic Weatherly, and music by Isidore de Lara. Calvé in the title rôle, splendid; going through everything—three rather lengthy Acts, two impassioned love-duets, and the trap-door in the bridge—with unflagging spirit and charm.
In the Second Act, Kenilworth shown illuminated for the reception of Elizabeth—Leicester having evidently borrowed one of the band kiosks from Earl's Court. Elizabeth, according to stage directions, should have entered "seated upon a magnificent white horse," but preferred to walk in. Possibly her steed detained by business engagements. As represented by Madame Armand, an easy-going, sunny-tempered sovereign, with an amiable dislike of any "unpleasantness" among her courtiers. The Earl of Sussex the most impressive mute (next to his contemporary the Earl of Burleigh in The Critic) on the boards,—nothing to do but look haughty, and at last, at the Queen's command, consent to become reconciled to Leicester,—but the subtle suggestion in his "shake-hands" that he did so on compulsion, and reserved himself the right of punching Leicester's head at the first convenient opportunity, very artistically conveyed. Part most carefully thought out. The Revels cut short by the inconsiderate appearance of Amy Robsart when they were just beginning, which must have been annoying for the Lady of the Lake, who had just arrived to pay homage to the Queen, and found herself obliged to get upon her floating island again, and go home in the most ignominious manner, without waiting even for the "shower of stars," which were to have fallen over the water. Elizabeth, however, seemed quite unruffled by the interruption, perhaps thinking that anything was a relief which put an end to the revels. Finale to this Act dramatic, and well worked up. Third Act in two short tableaux, concluding with a duel and explanation (in two lines) between Leicester and Tressilian, after which the opera ends abruptly with Varney's highly ungentlemanly practical joke upon poor Amy Robsart, and Leicester's request to Tressilian to take his sword and run him through—which, however, he had no time to grant, as the curtain fell at that moment. After that, well-deserved floral tributes to Madame Calvé, and enthusiastic calls for singers, composer, manager, and carriages.