\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ BY SCRICI. \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ PHILADELPHIA. WILLIS P. HAZARD, 178 CHESNUT ST. 1852. COPYRIGHT SECURED ACCORDING TO LAW. \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ A S an introduction to the dissertation upon which we are about to enter, such an antiquarian view of the subject might be taken as would tend to establish a parallel between the ancient Greek tragedy and the modern sanguinary Italian opera, the strong

T O most of the world (and we say it advisedly,) the opera is a sealed book. We do not mean a bare representation with its accompanying screechings, violinings and bass-drummings. Everybody has seen that—But the race of beings who constitute that remarkable combination; their feelings, positions, social habits; their relation to one another; what they say and eat; [a] whether the tenor ever notices as they (the world) do, the fine legs of the contralto in man's dress, and whether the basso drink

"In short, I may, I am sure, with truth assert, that whether in the allegro or in the piano , the adagio , the largo or the forte , he never had his equal."— Connoisseur. No. 130. "Famed for the even tenor of his conduct, and his conduct as a tenor."— Knickerbocker. illustration THE Tenor is a small man, seldom exceeding the medium height. His voice is, comparatively speaking, a small voice, and consequently not likely to issue from over-grown lungs. His proportions are, or at least ought to be,

illustration THE Primo Basso is to the primo tenore what the draught horse is to the racer; drawing along the heavy business of an opera, whilst the other goes capering and curvetting through whole pages of chromatics, and runs bounding with unerring precision over the most fearful musical intervals. The basso, consequently, to uphold the vast superstructure of song, must be a man furnished with a strong supporting and sustaining voice. He usually plays the part of tyrants, either of the domesti

"Your female singer being exceedingly capricious and wayward, and very liable to accident."— Sketch Book. illustration illustration EVERY body knows what a prima donna is. She is the first lady , and this is a fact apparently better known to the individual herself, than to any body else—at least her actions would warrant this inference. She deems herself more indispensable to an opera than an executioner to an execution, or the thimbles to a thimble-rig man. She takes no pains to conceal what a

T HE Barytone of the opera is probably the most inoffensive individual in the world. This is his peculiarity. Even his fierceness on the stage is done with an effort; and when in the course of a piece he is unfortunately called on to massacre somebody, we always fancy that he does it with the most unfeigned reluctance, and for aught we know, with silent tears. He is generally of a bashful, retiring disposition, and pretty nearly always awkward. This perhaps arises from the anomalous position he

illustration WE should be much grieved were we to let a chance of immortality at our hands go by, for our great friend the prompter—the suggeritore of the Italians. The prompter is to the opera, what the fifth wheel is to a wagon; everything rubs, grates and abrades it, yet the whole concern turns on it. He is the most abused (not hated—that is reserved for the Impresario,) man in the company. But he does not care for it. That is what he is hired for. He is paid to be of a good temper, and he do

"A neat, snug study on a winter's night; A book, friend, single lady, or a glass Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite, Are things which make an English evening pass, Though certes by no means so grand a sight, As is a theatre, lit up with gas."— Byron . THE night is a cold one; the snow is falling in large, heavy flakes, and those who are fond of the frigid, but exhilarating amusement of sleighing, are in hopes that by the morrow they will be able to pass like lightning from one part of the city

"Lord! said my mother, what is all this story about? "A cock and a bull, said Yorick—and one of the best of its kind I ever heard."— Tristram Shandy. Prince Henry. "'Wilt thou rob this leather-jerkin, crystal-button, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,—" Francis. "O Lord, sir, who do you mean?" P. Hen. "Why then, your brown bastard is your only drink: for, look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully; in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to s