boy line. Mr. Terry, we are happy to say, has improved much: he excels in tyrannical and passionate old men. Mr. Rees and Mr. Collyer, shortly after their arrival, had words with the manager, and quitted the company. Mr. Rees's loss was felt in the comic line. Mr. Bellamy improves much, and is very ludicrous in the old dotards. Mr. Barry was introduced to the town by a principal theatrical lady, as an "honourable" son of a Scotch lord, under an assumed name. As a performer, he possesses little or no ability: Rosalvi was by far his best character. He attempted Hamlet on his night, but was far, very far below mediocrity. Mr. Kemble personated the first Grave-digger, and, in stripping off the waistcoats, his bulky appearance drew peals of laughter from the house. Mr. Faulkner has been repeatedly mentioned in your work; he has the lead here in tragedy and genteel comedy, and is a very improving actor. His Tristram Fickle, in "The Weathercock," and Florimond, in " Youth, Love, and Folly," were fine performances. Mr. John Faulkner is possessed of a fine figure, and much musical taste, but is defective in articulation, which impedes his progress both in singing and acting. The musical department is in a wretched state for want of gentlemen. Mr. Wilkinson, a deserving young man, in the Irishmen, much resembles our lost Noble. He is also our first singer. Mr. Brown, already mentioned, reminds us, in the Yorkshireman, of our late favourite Liston: he is nearly equal to that actor, and promises soon to compensate Sunderland for his loss. Master Henry Pritchard is an astonishing boy: he performed Achmet twice, Young Norval and Alzuma once, to crowded audiences. The three young Pritchards are fine children, and, with their eldest brother and sister, performed an harlequinade and ballet dance, on their father's night, to the admiration of the audience. Master T. Pitt (four years of age) is also a surprising child, and Masters Bland and Forbes have much talent. The company can certainly boast of having more Roscii than any other in the kingdom. Mrs. Pritchard has now a larger range of characters than formerly, which she supports ably. Miss Victoire De Camp has a pleasing figure, and, if she would cast off some portion of her timidity, would be a charming little actress. Mrs. Carleton made her appearance in Elvira, but was not successful in it. She has the cast of characters Mrs. Mason held last season, but they sit very poorly on her. Mrs. Mason's loss is severely telt, having left no adequate successor. Mrs. Forbes is a lively little brunette: she sings with a simplicity that reaches the heart. We are sorry to say that Dr. Brown, an eminent physician of Sunderland, has pronounced her in a decline. She has retired, for the present, for the sake of her health. Miss Manessier is a useful and clever actress,-possesses much merit in old women, particularly so where singing is required: she dresses well, and has a powerful voice. Her Audrey, in "As you like it," is the real gawky rustic Shakspere intended. Mrs. Jones was certainly, in some characters, superior to Miss Manessier, but in general she amply makes up for the loss of the former lady. Mrs. Pitt is our sentimental heroine: she has a good figure, and in action is very chaste, but a peculiarity in her speech will prevent her from ever ranking high in her profession. Mrs. Warwick gave great satisfaction, but we are sorry to say that she is nearly thrown on the shelf. Her Miss Dashaway, (Soldier's Return,) is nearly equal to Miss De Camp's, and the tamborine song was admirable. She sings with great taste, and has a perfect knowledge of music.

S VOL. XXI.

There are a few other performers, whom it were a waste of your space to notice. Several young men have tried their abilities on the stage this year, but, excepting a person of the name of Bates, in a couple of songs, and a Miss Miller, in a sailor's hornpipe, they were all below mediocrity. A Serjeant Cullen, of the Lincoln, attempted Hans Molkus, but failed, as did several others. The benefits have, in general, been bad, particularly those of Messrs. Bellamy, Wilkinson, and Brown. I am sorry to say that interest, in Sunderland, gets the better of modest merit, unless the performer has been some seasons in the town, in which case he is tolerably sure of a good house. The following are the sums taken on the benefit nights, as they occurred.

1

RUSSIAN THEATRE.

Soon after our arrival, we visited the grand Imperial theatre, or opera house, called the Stone Theatre, which stands in a large open place, nearly in front of the marine garrison, formerly the new gaol, and the Nicolai canal. At four angles, in this spacious area, are four pavilions of iron, supported by pillars of the same metal, resting upon a circular basement of granite, within which, in winter, large fir fires are constructed, the wind being kept off by vast circular moveable shutters of iron, for warming and screening the servants of those who visit the theatre in the winter. Previous to the erection of these sheds, many of those unfortunate persons were frozen to death. The government, attentive to the lives of the people, has interdicted performances at the opera, when the frost is unusually severe. The front is a noble portico, supported by doric pillars; the interior is about the size of Covent Garden, of an oval shape, and splendidly, but rather heavily, decorated. The lower tier of boxes project from the sides, at the back of which are pilasters, adorned with appropriate decorations, richly gilded, above which are three rows of boxes, supported by corinthian pillars, each of which, as well as those below, contain nine persons. Nothing less than the whole box can be taken. It frequently happens that servants stand behind their

masters or mistresses in the boxes, during the performance, and present a curious motley appearance. The imperial box is in the centre of the first tier, projecting a little, is small, and very plainly decorated. The pit has seven or eight rows of seats, with backs to them, in which a cominodious portion of space for each spectator is marked off by little plates of brass, numbered upon the top of the back seat; this part is called the fauteils. Such is the order observed here, and in every theatre on the continent, that however popular the piece, a spectator may, during any part of the performance, reach his seat, in this part of the theatre, without any difficulty. Behind, but not boarded off, is the pit and the parterre. The price of admission to the boxes and fauteils are two silver rubles, little more than five shillings. There are no galleries. The massy girandoles, one of which is placed at every pilaster, are never illuminated but when the Imperial family are present, on which occasion only a magnificent circle of large patent lamps is used, descending from the centre of the roof; at other times its place is supplied by one of smaller dimensions, when the obscurity which prevails induces the ladies generally to appear in an undress. Although this gloom before the curtain is said to be advantageous to the effect of scenery, yet the eye is saddened, as it runs its circuit in vain for forms adorned with graceful drapery, the glittering gem, the nodding plume, and looks cf adorned beauty, that give fresh brilliance to the gay galaxy of light. This theatre is furnished with a great number of doors and passages, reservoirs of water, and an engine, in case of fire, and with concealed flues and stoves, to give it summer warmth in winter. It is always strongly guarded by a detachment from the guards, as well as by the police officers, who preserve the most admirable order among the carriages and servants. It is not an ungratifying sight, after the opera, to pause at the doors, and see with what uncommon skill and velocity the carriages, each drawn by four horses, drive up to the grand entrance under the portico, receive their company, and gallop off at full speed; pockets are very rarely picked, and accidents seldom happen.

Owing to the size and quantity of decorations, and the spacious arrangement of the boxes, I should not think the theatre could contain more than twelve hundred persons. Its receipts have never yet exceeded one thousand six hundred and eighty rubles, or two hundred and forty pounds. How different from a London theatre, which, on a crowded night, is lined with faces, and the very walls appear to breathe!

The first opera I saw was Blue Beard, performed by Italian performers, the subject of which varied but little from the representation of it in England, except that the last wife of Blue Beard has a lover, who, in the concluding act, lays the sanguinary tyrant breathless with his sword. The catastrophe was finely worked up, and drew from the Russians successions of enthusiastic acclamation.* Do these sentiments of tenderness, these noble notions of retributive justice, denote an immutable barbarism? The processions were in the first style of magnificence, the dresses and ornaments were very costly, and it is not unusual to introduce, on these occasions, one thousand men, selected from the guards for the expression of their faces, and symmetry of their figures, to swell the scene of pomp. The

* Mr. Carr is not correct in this observation. The English Bluebeard has a similar catastrophe. Ed.

orchestra was very full, and combined the first-rate powers of music. The scenes were handsome and well managed. A room was formed of entire sides, and well furnished; and a garden was displayed with all its characteristics. The emperor contributes very munificently to the support of this theatre; and all the machinists and workmen are his slaves, they are all under admirable discipline. The introduction of a tree into a study, or fringing the top of a forest with a rich cieling, scenic blunders which frequently occur on the English stage, would hazard the backs of the Russian scene-shifters. This theatre has a very beautiful set of scenes, which is never displayed but on nights when the Imperial family honour it with their presence. The silence and decorum of the audience cannot but impress the mind of any one, who has witnessed the boisterous clamours of an English audience. The curtain ascends at six o'clock precisely. No after-piece, as with us, only now and then a ballet, succeeds the opera, which is generally concluded by nine o'clock, when the company go to the Summer Gardens, drive about the city, or proceed to card and supper parties.

This theatre is as much dedicated to the Russian Muses, as to those of more geniallimates. In this respect Catherine II. pursued the same plan of domesfie policy, so wisely adopted by Gustavus III. but the plan, since her demise, has never been encouraged by the higher circles. A Russ play has the same effect upon fashion in Russia, as George Barnwell has upon the same class in England. Although, in the former, there are some inimitable performers, as in the hero of the latter, one of the most perfect and affecting imitations of nature, in that walk of the drama, ever exhibited upon any stage, is displayed by Mr. Charles Kemble.

I went one evening, in company with my amiable and gallant friend, Captain Elphinstone, to see a Russ opera, called "The School for Jealousy:" it is not much esteemed. As it proceeded, Captain E. explained it to me: the sentiments were frequently coarse, sometimes very obscene; the actors, who were Russians, appeared to perform with great ability; the heroine of the piece was represented by a very pretty and interesting girl, who was taken from the hospital of foundlings: she manifested grace, and a bewiching naïveté, and played and sung most sweetly. I am sorry I have forgotten her name; she is the principal Russ actress, and is a very great favourite. In the course of the play, to my astonishment, was introduced a scene of the inside of the mad-house at Petersburg, in which, amongst a number of horrible grotesque figures, a mad perriwigmaker threw a handful of hair-powder into the face of a frantic girl, who ran raving about the stage with dishevelled locks, which excited strong risibility amongst the audience. I was so disgusted at the spectacle, and the applause, that I wished it had not happened; but as it did, I record it. Although an English audience has been delighed at a dance of undertakers, laughed at the feats of skeletons in pantomimes, and in Hamlet has expressed great mirth at seeing a buffoon grave-digger roll human skulls upon the stage, and beat them about with his spade, it could not endure a sight in which those objects, whom pity and every tender feeling have consecrated, are brought forward with ridicule. But let it be remembered that madness is less frequent in Russia than in milder regions; and hence the people, for they are very far from being strangers to feel

ings which would do honour to the most civilized of the human race, are less acquainted with, and consequently less affected by its appearance; and when it is thus wantonly displayed upon the stage, it appears under the mask of buffoonery. The government would do well to suppress this and every similar exhibition, calculated only to imbrute a civilised mind, and postpone the refinement of a rude one.

I was much more pleased with the Russ opera of the Nymph of the Dnieper, which is so popular and attractive, that it never fails to fill the seats of fashion. It is chiefly intended to display the ancient costume and music of Russia. The story is very simple: A prince has sworn eternal constancy to a nymph, who is violently attached to him; his father, a powerful king, wishes him to marry a princess of an ancient house; the prince consents, but the nuptials are always interrupted by the stratagems of the jealous nymph, who appears in various dis guises. The first scene was singularly beautiful: it displayed a river and its banks, and nymphs swimming; the manner in which they rose upon the water, was admirably natural; the music of the ancient Russ airs, in which the celebrated Cossacka is introduced, was exquisite; the scenery was very fine, and displayed a number of pantomimic changes.

The Russian noblemen are fond of the drama; almost every country mansion has a private theatre. Those of the nobility, who, from disgust to the court, or some other cause, confine their residence to Moscow and the adjacent country, live in the voluptuous magnificence of eastern satraps: after dinner they frequent ly retire to a vast rotunda, and sip their coffee, during a battle of dogs, wild bears, and wolves; from thence they go to their private theatres, where great dramatic skill is frequently displayed by their slaves, who perform, and who also furnish the orchestra. These people are tutored by French players, who are very liberally paid by their employers.

DOMESTIC EVENTS.

NEW MINISTRY.

The new appointments having been very partially announced, we feel it our duty to lay before our readers as complete a list as possible, of the whole of the new arrangements, up to the latest moment.