1822.] 
red to the principles laid down in the 
School of Music, established in 1802, 
by order of the Emperor Napoleon. 
The science with which every passage 
is treated elicits an effect which, in 
the ordinary method of playing, can 
never be produced, Itis good policy, 
on the part of this country, to esta- 
blish a similar school. The sum of 
money taken outof England by foreign 
musicians is incredible ; and there can 
be no reason why the youth of Eng- 
land should not excel in the art of 
music equally with those of France. 
The French opera is more complicated 
than our Italian opera. It draws to 
its aid all the power of spectacle, 
song, chorus, and dance. While the 
principal singers are performing, the 
principal dancers, in the back-ground, 
are aiding the effects of song: and 
when the corps de ballet are intro- 
duced, they are flanked by a band of 
choristers, forty-five men and forty- 
five women, who maintain their part 
with a force and precision that must 
surprise an English ear. But this is 
not wonderful when we consider that 
all these subordinate musicians have 
been educated in the Conservatoire. 
The principal singers scarcely rise 
above the choristers. There are none 
among the women that will rank 
higher than second or third rates in 
England. Their language must be 
the excuse ; it is not sufficiently vocal 
to enable them to sing either with pas- 
sion or expression. I remarked a 
passage in one of the songs of the 
prima donna, which ended with the 
word quoi, which, in tone and execu- 
tion, resembled that of a jackdaw. 
In the front of this orchestra is placed 
the most distinguished character in 
the theatre, the corypheus, or con- 
ductor, whose business it is to take 
charge of the movement of this mighty 
band. As he stands in an elevated 
Situation, his gesticulations obtrude 
themselves upon every spectator. It 
may be necessary to the conducting 
of so large a force, but certainly a 
more ridiculous sight was never seen. 
In his right hand he wields a small 
rod, with which he flourishes, and 
marks the time. In bold and ener- 
getic passages he darts forth his 
hands, and raises his body ; when the 
musie sinks into a plaintive strain, he 
throws himself upon the orchestra in 
the most languishing manner; pre- 
sently he awakens from this delight, 
A Musical Amateur’s Trip to Paris. 
99 
and with his arms extended over the 
band, and his hands fluttering like the 
wings of a butterfly, he imparts his re- 
viving powers, and mounts again into 
ecstacy. 
The office is too exhausting for 
the whole evening, and this musical 
fugle man is relieved at the end of the 
first act. Rousseau in his time ob- 
serves, “how greatly are our ears 
disgusted, at the French opera, with 
the disagreeable and incessant noise 
occasioned by the strokes of him who 
beats the time, and who has been in- 
geniously compared to a wood-cutter 
felling a tree.” The stroke and noise 
are now abandoned, and the operation 
is wholly visual. The necessity of all 
this arises rather from the want of ex- 
pression in the music, or the want of 
feeling in the performers. In Eng- 
land, the beating of time is exploded 
both in public and private ; nor can 
there be any good effect where such 
means are requisite to drive a sense 
into the performers. 
The greatest attention is paid by the 
corded instruments to the arbitrary 
marks of expression; aud, from their 
superior manner of using the bow, the 
light and shade of the orchestra greatly 
surpass that of the opera in London. 
The wind instruments cultivate a 
more unobtrusive tone, and the drums 
are, very properly, more sparingly 
used. 
The next day (Sunday) a great re- 
ligious festival took place, called the 
Féte Dieu. Upon this occasion, every 
one that could raise a piece of tapes- 
try, an old carpet, or a table-cloth, 
spread it out upon the walls of his 
house. In the public buildings, the 
exterior was ornamented with tapestry 
of the richest kind, which was proba- 
bly made for the occasion. 
As we passed along the streets to 
Notre Dame, we noticed that every 
parish had its altar, decorated in the 
most fantastical manner. We enter- 
ed the church before the host had 
arrived. At the head of the proces- 
sion were eight military drums, keep- 
ing up an incessant roll as they march- 
ed up the aisle; next followed a 
detachment of soldiers; then the 
priests and the choir-men. 'The great 
bell was tolling its deep note of dou- 
ble F, in concert with all the small 
fry of the steeple. A large military 
band next entered, with gongs and 
cymbals; and, upon the appearance of 
the 
g 
