ORIGINAL. said, of three thousand pounds, (fifteen thousand dollars,) the manager of Drury Lane produced a translation of the opera under the title of the Jewess, which, to use the language of the newspapers of that period," For dazzling display, glorious brilliancy, and transcendant acting, totally eclipsed the original piece, though presented with all the advantages, aids, and lustre, the French so emi The Drama. DURING our late Siberian winter, the Theatres have been literally deserted. The most inveterate play-goers could not muster courage enough to face the peltings of the pitiless storm, and break the ieey spell which kept them from their favor. Actors played to empty benches, and managers mourned over exhausted treasuries.nently possess." But as winter could not endure forever, a slight change to milder weather caused an instantaneous effect for the better. ite resort. sober Londoner, was scarce inferior to that expeThe effect which this play produced upon the rienced by the more mercurial Parisian. The falling fortunes of "Old Drury" were stayed by it in their downward course; and that theatre, which had been reduced to poverty, by its adherence to the legitimate drama, was again elevated to prosperity, by the force of glittering spectacle, and inexplicable dumb show! The first ray of sunshine produced at the Park, was by the engagement of Mrs. and Miss WAT SON, the vocalists, and Opera once more became the order of the day. The former of these ladies having never appeared on the New-York stage, selected for her role de debut the part of Susannah in Mozart's charming opera of "The Marriage of Figaro," and sustained it with perfect success. In her person Mrs. Watson is inclined to en bon point, but her carriage is easy, and her gestures graceful. Her face is handsome and intelligent; her eye brilliant, and her bust beautiful. Her voice, which is a mezzo soprano of fine quality and considerable compass, is sweet and clear. Her intonation is correct,-her enunciation distinct, and her me- ter; and they have all been performed here with thod of singing, which is chaste and unpretending, shows that she has profited by good instruction. In fine she possesses most of the requisites to constitute a singer of the first order. Of Miss Watson little remains to be said; her reputation as a vocalist is too well established to need comment from us. The estimation in which her talents are held by the public cannot be more satisfactorily exemplified than by the simple fact, that her benefit produced fifteen hundred dollars. At the conclusion of the Watsons' engagement, MR. REEVE commenced operations, playing his routine of characters with increased eclat, to tolerably well filled houses; and having secured the services of the above ladies for his benefit, the theatre was crowded on that night to overflowing. Our readers must not, however, suppose that during the theatrical torpor produced by the severe winter, the managers of our different theatres have been idle, quite the contrary; the greater portion of that season was passed in preparation for the spring campaign. Thousands of dollars were expended in order to commence it with effect, and it is no less true than singular, that the whole of the vast expenditure has been made for the production of one and the same piece; the history of which, may perhaps, afford some amusement to our readers. The other London managers were not slow in turning to their advantage the dramatic furor which had seized upon the public; and the minor theatres came in for their full share of the harvest. In the course of a short time "the Jewess" found its way across the Atlantic. The manager of the Park received the Drury Lane version, the Bowery manager that of the Victoria theatre; and Mr. Dinneford, of the Franklin, from some other quar different degrees of success. The following is the plot of the play as is was performed at Drury Lane, and now represented at the Park. The scene lies in Switzerland, during the reign of the Emperor Sigismund, and the piece commences with the rejoicing of the inhabitants of the city of Constance, on the return of the Emperor from a victory over the Hussites. In the midst of their hilarity the revellers are disturbed by the clanking of hammers, which proceeds from the workshop of a Jew Goldsmith, who in despite of the proclamation for a general suspension of labor, is working at his trade. The populace, indignant at this act of disobedience, rush into the house, from whence they drag the Jew and his daughter, and are about to punish them with death for their contumacy, by casting them into the Lake, when Rachael is timely rescued by order of Prince Leopold, who had in the disguise of a young Israelite, clandestinely won her love. At this period Cardinal de Brogne, President of the Council of Constance, arrives from a solemn procession and Thanksgiving, and in Eleazer, the Jew, who enters pursued by the crowd, recognizes the individual who some years before he had banished from Rome, for the transgression of a law in that city, after having seen his two sons perish on the scaffold for the same offence; and being now Early in the last spring, an opera denominated La Lord of Constance, in his right as President of the Juive, was produced by the Academie Royale, in Council then assembled, the Cardinal saves the Paris, with an eclat, unparalelled, even in the recol- Jew from the fury of the citizens, and banishes him lection of the oldest play-goer of that play-going and his daughter, after three days from the citymetropolis. The Parisians literally became La Eleazer returning to his house, for the first time is Juive mad during the continuance of the opera, and made acquainted with the attachment which had night after night rushed in crowds to the theatre to so long existed between Reuben, the assumed witness it. The managers of the London theatres, name of the Prince, and his daughter. He greets with their accustomed enterprize, despatched him as the preserver of her life, and believing him agents to Paris to obtain the requisite information, to be one of the faithful, recieves him as the affiand after an entire summer, devoted to preparing anced husband of Rachael. Leopold, as the bethe piece for representation, at an expense, it is trothed of the Princess Eudocia, aware of the im ses, preferring to die a martyr to her faith, and ascends the platform by the cauldron. At this moment the spectators set up a shout, and the Jew believing the fatal plunge had been made by Rachael, proclaims her the Cardinal's daughter, and in the effort dies. Rachael, however, is saved, and so the piece concludes. The Play, as performed at the Bowery Theatre, terminates more consistantly with justice and humanity. There Eleazer is not put to the torture, but at the moment when the Jewess is about to suffer, he reveals to the Cardinal the secret that she is his child, and saves his own life by the disclosure. possibility of his marriage with the Jewess, re----and says that by becoming a christian not only ceives but coldly this offer of her hand, and in the her life will be saved, but that wealth, rank, and supposed absence of her father, tries to persuade splendor would await her. She resolutely refuher to flee with him from Switzerland. Overcome by the force of her love, she reluctantly consents, when Eleazer, who had overheard the conversation, interposes and reproaches him for his perfidy and ingratitude. The Prince, struck with remorse at the deception practised upon the Jewess, and for his disloyalty to the Princess Eudocia, leaves the house abruptly, cursed by the Jew and pursued by the daughter, who, resolving not to lose sight of the Prince, follows until she sees him enter the Palace. By one of those improbable incidents, which only occur on the stage, Rachael next becomes the favorite servant of the Princess Eudocia, and at a grand banquet given by the Emperor, officiates as cup bearer. By command Singular as it may seem, it is nevertheless of her mistress, the Jewess presents wine to true, that this piece tells better on paper than Prince Leopold, in whom she discovers her faith- it does on the stage. The dialogue is dull and less lover, and at the same moment Eleazer arriv-wearisome, and the incidents though interesting with a costly necklace which Eudocia had ing in themselves, are not so in their developepurchased from him to present to Leopold, also ment. As a spectacular drama, the Jewess may recognizes him. Eudocia receives the necklace rank in the first class, and live perhaps long from the Jew, but in the act of placing it on the enough to reimburse the managers for the heavy neck of Leopold, Rachael stung with jealousy, expense incurred in its preparation. It is certainsnatches it away, dashes it on the ground, and de- ly got up with much magnificence, both at the nounces the Prince as guilty of an unlawful inti- Park and Bowery theatres; but on the whole we macy with herself, which, being a Jewess, is a think it more effectively performed at the latter crime punishable with death. Leopold is arrest-house. The extent of its stage admits of more ed and degraded, and the Jew and his daughter scope for display, and Mr. Hamblin, wisely profitare sent to prison to await their doom-Eudocia ing by that advantage, has produced his version visits Rachael, and by her tears and supplica-of the drama in a style of splendor that would retions obtains her promise to withdraw the charge flect credit on any theatre. against the Prince, and the Cardinal anxious to save the father's life, seeks an interview with him and urges him to renounce his religion and embrace Christianity, as the only means by which his life and that of his daughter could be saved. The Jew indignantly refuses, but supplicates the Cardinal to intercede for the life of Rachael, and finding him inexorable threatens a frightful revenge. He then discloses a secret known only to himself, that the only child of the Cardinal, (who previous to becoming a churchman had been married) was still living, and that her life had been miraculously preserved, when it was supposed she had perished with her mother, at the time the Neapolitan forces had sacked Rome and set it on fire. The Cardinal implores Eleazer on his knees, to make known to him the abode of his daughter. This the Jew resolutely denies, except on one condition, the liberation of Rachael, and further states that De Brogne's child is in the pow. er of his most implacable enemy, and can only be recovered through his interposition. Finding remonstrance hopeless, the Cardinal threatens to force him by torture to reveal the secret. Eleazer and his daughter are condemned to the cruel Pelisses continue in favor, but we have no death of being boiled in a cauldron of oil, and the change to announce in their form. The sleeves last scene is an exhibition of this horrid execution. remain quite as large as ever; only we see several Rachael enters surrounded by guards, undress-with the fulness at the lower part confined half ed and prepared to suffer, and the Jew is brought in on a litter almost lifeless-his bones having been broken by the torture applied, to force the secret from him. He implores permission to speak with his daughter a few parting words, which being granted, he questions her if she desires to live MR. HACKET, has commenced a farewell engagement at the Park, previous to his departure for Europe; and the Woops appear on Monday, the 21st instant in the opera of La Somnambula, in which they have already turned the heads of half the people of this city, Boston and Philadelphia. Observations on Fashions. FROM THE COURT MAGAZINE OF FEBRUARY 1836. MANTLES are less generally adopted in carriage dress than they were in the beginning of the season; they have been partially superseded by mantelets of velvet or satin, of a very large size, lined, and wadded. They are made quite up to the neck, and in general with round pelerines. We have seen some lined and bordered with sable; others, and the latter more numerous, of black velvet, or that very rich material triple satin, lined with rose, emerald green, or Swedish blue gros de Naples, and trimmed with broad rich black lace. The principal difference between these mantelets and those of last season, consists in the size; they are at present every way larger. way to the elbow by narrow bands of the same material, which are buttoned or attached by some faney ornament to the centre of the arm. Rose-colored satin drawn bonnets are very much [in favor in carriage-dress; they are always trimmed with plain satin ribands to correspond: the most novel style of trimming is a high knot formed of coques of riband placed on one side; there is something graceful and original in the form of this ornament. Straw color is also in favor both for velvet and satin bonnets; some of the prettiest that we have recently seen were of red velvet, the brim and crown edged with two pipings of satin, and brown and other cherry color: the trimming consisted of ribands and flowers in which the three hues were mingled. Where full colors are employed for hats and bonnets, black, emerald green, and marron are most in favor. They are trimmed with feathers and ribands corresponding in color; the former are always placed on the right side. Flowers are not adopted for hats; they may be of mingled hues for bonnets, and placed on either side. We cannot well say that the brims of hats and bonnets either augment or diminish in depth, as fashion allows so much latitude in this respect, that the under-sized and majestic belle is no longer coiffe exactly in the same manner; but we think that generally speaking brims are of a moderate and becoming size, and very wide over the forehead. A good many morn ing bonnets are worn over small caps of plain blond, trimmed with wreaths of wild roses. Pelisse robes of white pou de soie or gros des Indes are much in favor in half dress. The front is always edged with pipings of rose, green, or some other light-colored satin: the sleeves are generally of the Venetian kind, looped at the bend of the arm by a band of riband;-the under sleeve is tight to the arm. tasteful, those of black velvet trimmed with rosecolored ostrich feathers, and black satin ribands. The interior of the brim is trimmed with blond lace lappets of a very light pattern, tied carelessly on one side, and intermingled close to the cheek with small Bengal roses of a very pale red. The colors in request are violet, marron, claret color, Swedish blue, emerald green, different shades of grey, rose, and straw color. Hope. Hope is a pledge of glorious rest And reap the fruit in heaven. WHAT a solace to the care-worn and sorrow stricken bosom, is hope, sweet hope! In the gloom of adversity and affliction, heaven born hope whispers, in accents of peace, that rest and comfort are yet in store. It stimulates us to perpetrate the dense clouds, which hover over us, and enjoy its promised good, while it is only in prospect. Misfortunes and disappointments encompass us about; the heart is drear and desolate-when hope,-angel of mercy,-steals into the desponding soul, and like the soft moonbeams upon the obscure paths of the forests, directs our course among flowery meads, and beside still waters. She not only strews her flowers in our pathway through this fluctuating world, but she points to the skies-to the blest abodes of peace, where the fulness of her promised pleasures are realized. Surely the hope Caps continue in great favor in evening neglige, of rest in heaven is a pledge we will fondly cherthe most fashionable are distinguished for the sim-ish, a flower we will delight to cultivate, whose plicity of their form: we may cite among the pret. odor shall cherish us in life and carry us on smoothtiest those of blond, composed of a flat band with ly to the elysian fields, where we shall feast upon two rows of blond, divided by roses or light sprigs the fruit in full fruition. of flowers, and ornamented with a wreath round the summit of the head. Another pretty and very becoming style of cap is composed of tulle, the front arranged en bouillon, something in the turban style, is intermingled with light sprigs of flowers; knots and brides of tulle complete the trimming, no riband being employed for these caps. Evening dress robes continue to be cut very low round the bosom, and the majority made with short sleeves. These are now, for the most part, made close to the arm, but with two or three sabots of the same material or else of white tulle, the latter is most fashionable, and certainly it has a very light and pretty effect upon a robe of rich silk or velvet. We see also some sleeves with the first beuffant composed of the material of the dress, and the second in blond or tulle, terminated by a manchette. A third style consists of a single beuffant on the tight sleeve, which is made to descend nearly to the elbow, and ornamented with two ruches of tulle. Long clear white sleeves are also a good deal in request in evening dress; some are surmounted by small round mancherons of the same material as the robe; others are set into a small tight sleeve of the material of the dress, which descends upon the shoulder. Turbans have lost a little of their vogue. Small velvet hats are more in favor than ever, and likely to continue so. Habit. HABIT, sooner or later, makes everything tolerable, and even necessary. Privation in this way becomes more agreeable than enjoyment, and pain itself an indispensable excitement. The sufferer under a chronic disease endures more in one hour, than a man in health in a week; but he is not necessarily more unhappy. Suffering is with him a substitute for action, and were he suddenly cursed, he would feel ennui till he had substituted effect, in itself painful, in its place. The old tenant in the Bastile lamented his restoration to light. The epicure compelled by ill health to give up the pleasures of the table, finds, after a certain time, his simple diet becomes as agreeable to him as his precious luxury. We can accustom ourselves to anything, even to idleness, which is the hardest lesson of all. Strive to be either agreeable or useful: thus only is it that the world can be gained. Society must be occasionally changed, to avoid dullness or ennui. Even the best may grow insipid or tiresome. Christian patience is surer than stoical resoluWe may cite as among the most tion. The one calms, the other benumbs the soul. |