The year 1855, though a prosperous opera-year, was not rich in variety. Two new works, however, were given, both of which must be dwelt upon.—“Il Conte Ory,” with Signor Gardoni the graceful as hero, was repeated.—“Fidelio” was tried again, for the introduction of a German lady—on that evening when Napoleon the Third, Emperor of France, visited Covent Garden Theatre in state with our Sovereign Lady.—What a strange commentary on chance and change was this, to those who recollected our Imperial guest as the quiet and retiring frequenter of a box at the old Opera-house, before and after the expedition to Boulogne; and who recalled the derision which had attended the very few who then dared to speak of that event as one which might as probably have turned for better, as it did for worse, to him who adventured it!—The tale of its accidents has, possibly, yet to be told.

Signor Verdi this year, at last, arrived at his real popularity in England—not equalling that of Bellini, but surpassing that of Donizetti—by the production of his “Il Trovatore,”—the work among his works in which his best qualities are combined, and in which indications scattered throughout earlier productions present themselves in the form of their most complete fulfilment.

The story, it need not be told, is of the most paltry quality; one that might have been gathered from some extinct novel of the Minerva Press,—in place of the Spanish romance, little known on this side of the Pyrenees, from which it was derived.—What is more, it is next to unintelligible.