ROYAL PRINCESS' THEATRE.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 88, 26 February 1862, Page 5 (Supplement)

ROYAL PRINCESS' THEATRE.

-The ingenious conception of converting into a; theatre t'ue spacious horse-bazaar recently erected by Slessrs. Jones, Bird & Co. is now all but an accom

.plished fact. The difficulties wliich presented themselves in the why of applying one building to two such' apparently incongruous purposes, have, by a series ofi mechanical contrivances, been most success-! fully overcome. The' ludicrous suggestions audi Speculations te which tho idea naturally gave! rise have been effectually answered by the skill ofthe,' mechanist; and we now only wait the.arrival of tlio! corps dramatique, already on thoir v.ay from Slelbourne ; to have the legitimate drama introduced into . Dunedm under circumstances more promising than could.well have been anticipated. As the company,! whose names we gave iv a.late number, left Mel-! bourne by the "Seaman's Bride," whicli was at Port! Philip Heads along with the "Chariot of Fame,"! already arrived, they are sometime overdue, and it!1 cannot now be more than a day or two before the preparations for tlieir reception shall have definite : result in their appearance on the boards of what will from that time become the Royal Princess' Theatre, Dunedin.

In expectation of this early arrival of the corps, the building was^lighted up the other night, so that the general effect of tbe stage decorations, or their defects, might be more adequately realised. The opportunity was a favourable one for judging of the character of the interior generally, so far as it has been accommodated to the necessities of its new purpose, as well as regards the effect of the decorations and the few " properties" with which the stage has already been furnished in anticipation of the receipt of the full quota by the "Seaman's Bride." The first impression,. on entering at the stage door, was the unexpected absence of all traces of the horse bazaar, and_ in describing the interior as then seen, and as it it will be seen each night by the habitues ofthe house, we may legitimately consider tliat institution as non est — • —out of sight, and but of mind. The stage-door, as well as the entrance to the stalls, is of cenvenient approach from High-street, and it is a consideration of some importance that the patrons of that part of the house, as well as the performers, will obtain access to the building with greater ease and convenience than were the whole traffic to and from the theatre confined to the other approach through the yard of the Provincial Hotel. The door opens upon a well boarded area of 32 feet, by 22, elevated to a level sufficient to bring the performers in full view of the occupants of all parts ofthe house, while there is ample room obtained for ' the display of scenery, and depth beneath the boards for those mechanical contrivances which are necessary for transformation scenes, or other aids to stage effect. In the absence of gas, a flood fcf light will be thrown upon the stage by a number of kerosene lamps overhead, and in the usual position of foot-lights, their illuminat, ing power being increased, of course, by the most powerful reflectors obtainable. These, with the general lighting of the house, will he placed under the charge of a man from Stanford's establishment, and any emergency in the way of outbreak of fire from these or from any other source is further provided against by the proximity of an ample supply of water, in seven tun butts placed upon an elevated platform immediately behind the stage. One of the greatest inconveniences to the lessee is the necessity of a thoroughfare through the building in the day time, and.this has been met by the sta.se and proscenium being so constructed that about a third of the boarded area can be raised on hinges to the perpendicular during the day, and lowered to the level of the rest of the stage on each occasion of performance. Passing along this, the right side, ofthe stage, istheen-j trance to the stalls; on the left side, and accessible from the left upper exit, as it is technically known, are the dressing rooms, the manager's room, and lamp room. In the ornamentation of the stage front the decorator has been successful in producing a piece of work which, while it is sufficiently attractives is characterised more bjr a chaste simplicity than by any attempt at gaudy display. . The arch of the proscenium culminates in a pretty design, wherein the nude figures of cupids, or whatever they may be intended to represent, revel in a maze of flowers. On each panel there is also a pictorial centre-piece, and these, with the gilded beading and higher-toned coloring of the panels, constitute a pleasing contrast to the stonecoloured Corinthian pillars which form the extreme sides of tbe proscenium. The whole will be concealed in the interval between each play by the usual green baize curtain. The drop-scene has not yet been received; but as it is, with other portions ofthe scenery, from the pallette of. Tennant, the same theatrical ar? tint who has painted for the Princess's and the Royal in Melbourne, there can be little doubt of its being an attractive one. The few scenes on the stage on this occasion of lighting the house, were some draw-! ing-room interiors, and though there was no professional present, to "strut and fret his hour upon the stage," the. different pictures had a .very pleasing] effect. Immediately in front of the foot-lights is sit-' uated, as a matter of course, the orchestra, which will be partially occupied by a powerful grand piano, while, as leader, Sir. Koller —who has the reputation of being the best performer on the cornopean in the colonies—will "discourse sweet sounds" from that instrument, and from others in the use of which he is accomplished. Immediately behind are the stalls, capable of accommo r dating three hundred people, who, in the absence of a lower tier of boxes, will necessarily constitute the dii major es of the assembly. The pit stretches hehind to the other extremity of the building, and will be the cheapest part of the house—the boxes being next in price to the stalls. AA'liat wili, no doubt, be an observable want to the accustomed eye of the professional, is tlie absence of the proper home of the " gods." Instead of a wellfilled' gallery, the actor will find in front of him, above the level of the pit, a blank space unrelieved by a single specimen of tlie "human face divine," br by the peculiar sounds familiar to his ears. Iv point of space there are facilities for a gallery, but the risk of such a construction, in addition to its costliness, has deterred the lessee from adding it to the already considerable accommodation of the house, capable, as it is, of holdinir 1100 or 1200 people. On each side ofthe pit and stalls, the equine occupants of the other stalls are effectually concealed from viewby canvass screens, wliich,.by'the skill of the painter and gilder, are rendered ornamental as well as useful, for, while preventing the intrusion one upon the other of the Occupants of either description of stall, they lend a lightness and an aspect of gaiety to the interior by which the tout ensemble', is greatly improved. "Above the level ofthe pit otl stalls, and stretching along either.side of the building, is the circle, or tier of boxes, each row capable of accommodating 250 spectators. With the dull uniformity of the present plain pillars concealed by drapery, and some amount of decorative skill expended upon the front of each tier, while the seats are so raised as to command a full view of the stage, these form a.great accession to the amount of accommodation, and are likely to be well patiwr.ised. Into their very recesses, as over the whole interior, a stream of light will he thrown by two massive chandeliers, each bearing a number of brilliant lights, the effect of wliich will be enhanced by lamps pendant from the several pillars on each side. For the illumination of the whole house about fifty lamps arc required, aud the quantity of kerosene consumed each evening cannot be inconsiderable. AVhat would greatly enhance the illuminating power, as well as improve the general aspect of the interior would be a'more attractive roofing than can bo presented bybare sheets of galvanised iron, but the danger of any ready substitute would be too great to make its adoption recommendable. The end of the building next the Provincial Hotel will be closed each evening by large portable shutters, above which an illumination, hearing the name of the theatre, has just been painted. The entrances to the pit and boxes are intended to be at this end of the building, and it is a consolation that, if they are in any degree inconvenient, a most convenient exit will at least be afforded in the case of a rush, by the instant removal of the shutters constituting the temporary gar ble. Indeed) against the too often seriinis results of a panic, the preparations in the case ofthe Princess's are most ample, and the comforts, as well as such absolute necessities ofthe public, have received equal consideration from the lessee and the manager, Sir Paweett.

Unless some unforeseen circumstance occur, we igay expect the Princess's to be open by AVednesday or' Thursday, when a full house will, no doubt, inaugurate the introduction of the legitimate drama ns a probably permanent accession to our limited sources ofamusement.

SLSmorials op Slilton.—Professor Uassnn i.s not yet forthcoming with the second volume of his " Life ef Stilton." The book collectors .and autograph fanciers are talking of the great Poet just now. apropos of the issue of a magnificent volume by Messrs. Sotheby and Wilson, containing a series of facsimiles and electro printed copies of Stilton's 'handwriting.. This book is not, I believe, for sale ; but copies have doubtless, ere this, reached the Libraries at Cambridge. The late Sir. Sotheby spent jionje years upon it, and had finished only just .before he died. Specimen's are given of Slilton's writing from his signature as Bachelor of Arts in the Graduation Book of Christ's College, Cambridge, January '627 down to the peculiar formation of his letters when he was; nearly blind. — London Correspondent of %he. Cambridge Independent Press. Weak o'Eves.—Sir. Gardiner Wilkinson, in his work on "color," says that in all cases where the eye is weak, or.where it is much employed at night, the light"of lamps or, candles should be tempered by covering"tliem'mtha blue glass shade, in order to •bviate the red and_ yellow rays, and to bring the light as near as possible to that of day.

!THE NARRINYERL, OR TRIBES OF-THE LAKES AND LOWER MURRAY. (From the " South Australian Register.") AVousuir of the Dead. ! The Nirrinyerl point out, several stars, and say Ithat tbey are "deceased warriors who licve youe to , heaven (AA'yii-rewin-ni). There are AVynriirire and 'Ni-palle, and thi; Mauchingga, and several oihers.. ! Every native expects to tro to A\ ryirrewarre after I death. They also believe that the dead descend from > thence, and " walk the earth ; and that they are able to injure tho*; whom thej- dislike. Consequently men who have hern notorious in life for a domineering and revengeful disposition, are much dreaded after death. For instance, there is Knrungpe, who comes in the dead of night, when the camp fire ha« burned low, and like a rushing wind scatters the dying embers, and-then takes advantage of the darkness to rob some sleeper of life ; and it. is considered dangerous to whistle in the dark, for Karnugpo is especially attracted by a whistle. There is another restiew spirit—tbe deceased father of a boy whom I well know —who is said to roam about armed with a rope, with which he catches people. All the Narrinyeri, old and young, are dreadfully afraid of seeing ghosts, and none of them will venture into the scrub after dark, lest, he should encounter the spirits which are supposed to roam there. I heard some admirable specimens of ghost stories from them. In one case I remember tlie ghost was represented to have set fire to a worley, and ascended to heaven in the flame. The Narrinyeri regard the disapprobation of the spirits of the dead as a thing to be dreaded ; aud if a serious quarrel takes place between near relatives, some of their friends are sure to interpose with entreaties to the contentious parties to he reconciled, lest the spirits of the dead should be offended at unseemly disputes between those who ought to be at peace." The name of the dead must not be mentioned until his body has decayed, lest a want of sorrow should seem to ba indicated by the common and flippant use of his name. A native would have the deceased believe that he cannot hear or speak his name without weeping. But the most direct way in which the reverence of these people is shown for the dead is in their funeral ceremonies. AA'hen a man dies they conclude at once that sorcery has been the cause of the mournful event, and that either ngadliungi or millin must have been practiced against him. Slillin is a different kind of sorcery from that described in a previous paper. The first uight after a man has died his nearest relation sleeps with his head on the corpse, in order that he may be led to dream who is the srrcerer- that caused his death. The next day the corpse is elevated on men's shoulders on a sort of bier called ngaratta. The friends of the deceased then gather round, and several names are called out to try if the mention of them produces any effect on the corpse. At last the nearest relative calls out tlie name of the person of whom he has dreamed, and then an impulse towards him on the pert of the dead body is said to "be felt bythe bearers, which they' pretend they cannot resist, and consequently they walk towards htm. This impulse is the sign by whicli't is known that the right name has oeen called out. The deceased, still lying on the ngaratta, is then placed over the a slow fire for a day or two, .until ehe outer skin blisters. This is removed with the hair, and all the apertures are sewed up. It is then rubbed over with grease and red ochre, and set up naked on a sort of stage inside the wurley in a sitting position. A great lamentatiou and wailing is made at this time by all the relations and friends of the dead man. They cut their hair off close to the head, and besmear themselves with oil and pounded charcoal. The women besmear themselves with the most disgusting filth ; they all beat and cut themselves, and make violent demonstrations of grief. All the relatives are careful to be present aud not to be wanting in the proper signs of sorrow, lest they shsuld be suspected of complicity of causing death. A slow fire is placed undsr the corpse, in order to dry it. The relations live, eat, drink, and sleep under the putrifying mass until it is dried. Ii is then wrapped up in mats and kept in the wurley. During the time in which it is drying, the female relatives relieve one another in weeping before the body, so as to keep some women always weeping in front of it. Ail this has very much the appearance of idolatory. The smoke rising around the red sitting figure, the wailing women, the old men with long wands, with a, brush of feathers at the end, anointing it with grease ond red ochre—all these contribute to give one this impression of the whole scene. AVhen any one leaves the wurley where tbe body is for a few days, they are expected. to stand before it and wsep and wail on their return. However they manage the requisite amount of crying I never could imagine. For oue minute a woman will appear in the deepest agony of grief and tears ; a few minutes after, the conventional amount of weeping having beeu accomplished, they will laugh and talk with the merriest, I feel persuaded that fear has more to do with most of these exhibitions than grief. But the spirit ofthe dead is not considered to have been appeased until his relatives have avenged his death. Thoy will kill the sorcerer who has caused it if they can catch him; but generally they cannot catch him, and often do not wish it. Most probably he belongs to some other tribe of the Nerriuyeri. SI essengers pass between the tribes relative to the affair, and tlie friends of the accused person at last formally curse the deadman and all his dead relatives. This constitutes a casit.i_ belli. Arrangements are forthwith made for a pitched battle, and the two tribes meet in company with their respective allies. The tribe to which the dead man belongs weep and make a great lamentation for him, and tue opposing tribe sets some fellows to dance about and play antics in derision of their enemies. Than the whole tribe will set up a great laugh by way of further provocation. If there be any other cause of animosity between the tribes besides the matter of avenging the dead tliere will now be a prettysevere fight with speara. If, however, the tribes have nothing but the dead man to fight about, they will probably throw a few spears, indulge in considerable abuse of each other, perhap.s one or two will get slightly wounded, and then some of the old men will declare that enough has been done. The dead man i.s considered to have been appeased by the efforts of his friends to avenge his death by fighting, and the two tribes are friendly agaia. In such a case, the fight is a mere ceremony. -~ The hair of the dead is spun into a cord, which is made into s headband, and commonly worn by men. They say tliat thereby they smell the dead, and that it makes their eyes large and their sight keen, so that in a fight they are enabled to see the spears coming, and either to parry or avoid them.

Prince Slurat.—ln the spring of 1848, I crossed tho Atlantic in the same steamer with Prince Slurat, and happened accidentally to have a seat next to him at the table. He was going to France to derive what advantage he could from the revolution of February. I found him a most good-natured, jovial companion, with a good deal of a certain kind of shrewdness and wit. fie was extremely careless about his person, an immense feeler, and the most formidable snorer I ever met. Unfortunately for me hia state room directly was opposite to mine, and as he always slept with his door open, I had the fullest benefit of the terrific noise he made at night. Store than once, after lying j awake for hours; I have in sheer desperation hurled' my boot at his berth ; whicli rather forcible protest he I would always take very amiably. His proportions I were not of the Daniel Lambert order, but he has I developed considerably since. The last time I sawl him in Paris he was in full uniform, covered with' orders, and a sight to behold. AVhat a change hisi fortunes have undergone ! To be elevated from a sort] of Now Jersey squatter to be a member of the Im-j perial family of France, with at one time a squint at; the throne of Naples. The Prince used to wear on ! his_ head a very old and very rough soft felt hat,! which was anything but ornamental. Apropos of, this hat, he toid me that, before he left horns, his! wife insisted that he should buy a proper black head-I covering at Leary's, so soon as lie reached town ; that! 'if he would not agree to do this, she would not con-' sent to see him off; that he told her he could not afford the extravagance, and that if she made so un-! reasonable a condition to accompany him to New York, she might stay in New Jersey. lie had with' him a famous white plume which used to distinguish j his father on the field of battle, or rather the whalebone remains of it. He had acquired a great reputation in NewJcr.seyasahorscjockey. Itissaidhewould start off for a journey on the back of a sorry llosinanle, | and return home, after an absence of «ever;d weeks, | driving a stylish pair of horses before an elegant car-! riage, the result of a series of successful strops. He! had a great natural taste formechanics ; and from hi3i conversation seemed to consider Sir Stevens, of llyboken, the greatest man of the a"c. AYe arrive .1 at Liverpool qn a Sunday—the very day on which the election was to take place in France for members of the Legislative Assembly. Immediately on landing, the Prince and I went together to the Adelpbi Hotel, and there learned that, as luck would have it, the election had been postponed one week. The Prince took the first train for London, crossed the Channel, hurried,down to his father's native department, and announced himself as a candidate. Other arrangements bad been made, and. other candidates were in the field; but the name of Slurat was a spell, and he overcame all opposition, and was returned almost unanimously. Since then liis fortunes have constantly tended upwards. I called upon liim in Paris. He was not in town ; but a few days later he sent an aide to me, inviting me to his country seat. Unfortunately for me my engagements at the time would not permit me to avail myself of tliis invitation. I subsequently saw him ouce,- as I have intimated, at a public ceremony, but bad no opportunity of speaking with him. — Harper's New Monthly Magazine.