100 
the host, the stupendous organ, from 
on high, showered down upon this ter- 
rific din every note within its compass. 
The accumulated noise was so great, 
that I shouted in vain to my friend to 
make myself heard. I should add, 
that the soldiers were grounding their 
arms, and going through their evolu- 
tions, in the midst of the service. 
When the uproar had a litile sub- 
sided, I listened to the mass, which 
was performed by two choirs in two 
separate chapels, assisted by a ser- 
pent. The chaunt, like that at Beau- 
vais, was of the sixteenth century, and 
of the plainest kind. 
It is evident that the Revolution 
has kept the music of the church a 
century behind that of the Nether- 
lands and Germany. The singing had 
nothing to recommend it either in 
voice or manner; but the mode of per- 
forming the service was antique and 
curious. The first choir chaunted the 
verse, which was echoed by the more 
distant one ; and then the organ pour- 
ed out between the verses a volley of 
sounds, unlike any thing that I have 
ever heard,—finishing with the lowest 
notes of the double diapason, which 
swept through the aisles with a grand 
and terrific effect. We saw the priests 
attired in the grand costume given 
them by Napoleon at his coronation ; 
and then left this imposing spectacle 
of noise and show. 
At the French comedy we heard no 
music but that of Talma’s voice, which 
is strikingly beautiful, clear, sonorous, 
and articulate. The generality of the 
men’s voices are rather high, and 
chaunting, somewhere about C above 
the lines; but the following passage 
from Talma showed the richness and 
depth of his tones :— 
- core. 
He appeared in the new play of “ Re- 
gulus,” in which the character of Na- 
poleon is depicted. The shouts of 
applause bestowed at certain passages 
were, if possible, more loud and up- 
roarious than any thing English. At 
the end of the piece Talma was called 
for, to name the author. He came 
forward. The author, (who is the son 
of the writer of Germanicus,) pre- 
sented himself in the front box, and re- 
ceived the acclamations of the audi- 
ence, in which not a dissenting voice 
A Musical Amateur’s Trip to Paris. 
[Sept- I, 
was heard. The pit was paved with 
the heads of men, crammed to suffo-~ 
cation; and the attention and interest 
which every one showed during the 
play was unlike any thing we observe 
in England. The French are wise in 
not extending their entertainments to 
much more than half the length of 
ours. The attention, by this means, 
is not worn out; and people come 
away with a clear recollection of what 
they have seen and heard. In all the 
theatres, the greatest order and regu- 
larity are observed; not a word is 
allowed to be spoken during the per- 
formance. After the play bundreds 
left the pit to adjourn to the café for 
refreshment ; each one tying his hand- 
kerchief round the bench where he sat, 
or leaving a purse or a glove till he 
returned ; and the whole was deserted. 
I expressed my surprise to a French- 
man at their Jeaving these articles, 
saying, ‘“‘That they would all be 
stolen in England.” As you arrive at 
the theatre, you are obliged to take 
your places two by two, rank and file, 
to obtain your ticket of admission. 
The Opera Buffa or Italian Theatre 
is upon a much smaller scale than the 
National Theatre. The band is a se- 
lection from the Academy of Music, 
without trumpets, trombones, or 
drums. Fodor had returned to Italy 
for the benefit of her health, and, un- 
fortunately, there was nothing left to 
admire among the female performers. 
The men were much better: I noticed 
a bass singer of most extraordinary 
powers,—Signor Galdi; his. voice is 
that of a Polyphemus, so powerful, 
that it would make its way through 
the largest band ever assembled. For 
a giant of a man, he is a most animated 
fellow, and an inimitable actor: I 
think he is well calculated to please 
the English. Pelligrini is a spare lit- 
tle man, with a voice like Bartle- 
man’s: the manner in which he deli- 
vers his tones is a little “alla fagotto ;” 
but he is a neat and excellent singer. 
The opera of ‘‘ Cenerentola” was the 
first performance, and, I must say, 
it was so well performed, that it has 
given me a more correct and favour- 
able idea of Rossini as a composer 
than I before entertained. His forte 
is in his chorusses, which were admi- 
rably sustained by the same choir 
which I heard in the Academy of Mu- 
sic. In London, the chorusses, which 
form the most sublime part of an 
opera, 
