ressed; the officers and attendants up to their
business, and everything orderly and quiet. The play was Scribe's
"L'Enfant Prodigue" (The Prodigal Son), which in England they soften
into "Azael the Prodigal," but here no such euphemism is requisite, and
indeed I doubt that half who witness it suspect that the idea is taken
from the Scriptures. The idea, however, is all that is so borrowed.
There were no great singers included in the cast for this evening, not
even Alboni who remains here, while most of her compeers are in London.
I am a poor judge, but I should say the music is not remarkable.

This is a drama of Action and of Spectacle, however, to which the Music
is subordinate. Such a medley of drinking and praying, dancing and
devotion, idol-worship and Delilah-craft, I had not before encountered.
At least three hundred performers were at once on the stage. The
dancing-girls engaged were not less than one hundred in number,
apparently all between fourteen and eighteen years of age, generally
good-looking, and with that aspect of innocence and freshness to which
the Stage is so fatal. The most agile and eminent among them was a Miss
Plunkett, said to be an American, with a face of considerable beauty and
a winning, joyous manner. I should say that half the action of the
piece, nearly half the time, and more than half the attention of the
audience, were engrossed by these dancing demoiselles.

France is the cradle and home of the Ballet. In other lands it is an
exotic, here a natural outgrowth and expression of the National mind. Of
the spirit which conceived it, here is the abode and the Opera Francais
the temple; and here it has exerted its natural and unobstructed
influence on the manners and morals of a People. If you would comprehend
the Englishman, follow him to his fireside; if a Frenchman, join him at
the Opera and contemplate him during the performance of the Ballet.

I am, though no practitioner, a lover of the Dance. Restricted to proper
hours and fit associates, I wish it were far more general than it is.
Health, grace, muscular energy, even beauty, might be promoted by it.
Why the dancing of the Theater should be rendered disgusting, I can not
yet comprehend. The "poetry of motion," of harmonious evolutions and the
graceful movement of "twinkling feet," I think I appreciate. All these
are natural expressions of innocent gaiety and youthful elasticity of
spirits, whereof this world sees far too little. I