others? Is it, that we have lost Kean and O'Neill; or does the taste for the drama decline? No:-the theatres are too large for the purpose; not half the company can discern the motions of the countenance which depict the passions. If the cheeks were not painted a tremendous red, and the nose a sparkling white, the features of the face would not be seen in the farthest boxes; but music can be heard as well by the remotest listener as the nearest, and often with a better effect: besides, a taste for music is rapidly increasing, and we like to go and hear that well done, which is a favourite pursuit with ourselves. I should not have been so well satisfied with the opera of Artaxerxes, had not I heard Dirce the night before, the recitation of which was drawled out in the common-place modulation of a parish clerk. Artaxerxes is now becoming old-fashioned, and may be said to be almost wholly destitute of the graceful inflexions of modern melody. Many of its ornaments are as quaint as the lace and ruffles of the last century. Much has been said of the talents of Miss Wilson, who performs Mandane, -she certainly is pretty, sprightly, and engaging; but she possesses not that volume of tone and clear articulation, which are indispensable requisites in a great singer. Her animation is considerable, but in many instances ill directed. Her long holding notes, and occasional bursts, are instances of a mistaken effort to achieve that which should be sought with more feeling and art. Her enunciation in recitative lies too much upon the teeth and nose: in this particular there is a striking contrast in the superior manner of the delightful Madame Vestris. Nature has certainly done more for Miss Wilson as an actress than a singer.

The great attraction at Drury-Lane is Mr. BRAHAM; but it is to be lamented that he should so often address himself to the gallery. No one sings so well and so ill: in his " mezza voce" he is graceful and enchanting, and always in tune. When he sings the least, he sings the best; but in pouring forth the "mighty strain" intended for the gods, he often outrages the feelings of mortals below.

ORATORIOS.

In this theatre are given the oratorios under the direction of Sir G. SMART, which are certainly the greatest musical treat open to the public.

His

Sir G. never fails to set before his audience rarities of the first kind, and often at considerable cost. Mr. KIESEWETHER made his first appearance upon the violin, and exhibited very singular and masterly powers. style is purely German, dark and forcible; he has none of the glitter of Vaccari or Mori, but he has the strength of Yaniewitz, and the polish of Baillot. It is worthy of remark, that the pupils of the new school are good composers, as well as great performers. Mr. Lindley and the piano-forte Cramer may be mentioned as instances where the finest practical talents are constantly exhibited in music of the most commonplace order.

At these performances, we are first presented with the new choral compositions of the day-the Seasons, the Mount of Olives, the oratorio of Judah, &c. Notwithstanding the orchestra is numerous and well chosen, there wants that weight of sound in the loud and magnificent parts, which is necessary to the production of the sublime. A theatre, from having no ceiling above the stage, is ill adapted for such performances, as more than half the sound is lost. Liverpool and Manchester have their Music Halls; but the Metropolis is without an edifice in which the solemnities of oratorio music can be displayed. The Concerts form a most distinguished part of the musical season: there are not less than fifty given from January to June, in which all the talent of the country is engaged.-The first is the Ancient, or King's Concert, which was established a century ago. It is conducted by twelve noblemen, who direct in turn, and no composition is allowed to be performed of a more recent date than fifty years, under the penalty of 5001. The orchestra is most ably conducted by Mr. Greatorex, who communicates to the choir that fire and spirit which Mr. Bates first introduced into the grand performances at the Abbey. The Vocal Concerts are open to the public; and though the materiel of which they are formed is the same as the Ancient, yet it has been found necessary to consult the public taste, and to introduce the modern compositions of the day. These concerts will suffer much by the death of Mr. Bartleman: there is no one left that can at all vie with him in sentiment or manner. Mr. Bellamy is at present his only successor; but surely this gentleman cannot be aware of the inelegant way in

which he delivers his tones: his manner is too complicated, and there wants more nature and simplicity in his enunciation. By a circuitous motion of his mouth, he puts his words upon the rack, and produces deformity and dislocation. These defects are much to be lamented, as Mr. Bellamy has an excellent voice, great energy, and is a good musician. Mr. Kellner has recently made the tour of Italy, by which he has learnt every thing, but the fa culty of singing his own language. He has a fine bass voice, and accompanies himself on the piano-forte with great skill and ability, but every word he attempts to utter seems imprisoned in his mouth, and when they escape, it is with such violence and bluntness, as more to annoy than delight. If he would begin de novo and learn the first rudiments of a correct and polite enunciation, he certainly might become the first bass singer of the day.

66 she

MRS. SALMON'S CONCERT. This lady gives two concerts in each season, at which all the first performers appear, and the best company attend. Mrs. SALMON is, I believe, the first instance in which the requisites of a great singer have been found united in an English woman; and she is a striking example of what genius and industry will do, unaided by tuition and patronage. Her vocal talent is entirely her own-she has had no master, and is purely original. Like the sweet chantress of the grove, sang unheeded and unknown," but the influence of her voice has broken the spell which envy sought to throw around her. Her voice is not extensive or powerful; but it is of the richest colour and quality: her execution is remarkable for its brilliant rapidity, and for the grace and facility with which she takes up or concludes her passages. She is the only singer who has discovered the art of varying her tone to the sentiment or passage she has to express. In her divisions, the beauty of the flute is succeeded by the rich and mellow tones of the clarionet, and in her 66 mezza voce," the flageolet is surpassed in delicacy and beauty. Her knowledge of the science gives her a great advantage over her contemporaries; and it is only in the encore that her fancy and creative power are fully displayed. "From mighty Kings,” a

* Du-ark-ness-she-ah-dow-le-oy-t

im-me-agine-an-noyn-ted.

second rate song of Handel's, she has raised into importance by the inimitable style of her execution; and such is the versatility of her powers, that there is no department of the vocal art in which she is not pre-eminent.

Miss STEPHENS next claims our admiration, by her very interesting and unaffected manner. There is a pensive tone in her voice that indicates a sweetness of disposition- so far the voice may be said to be an index of the mind. Her style is that of nature and simplicity; and as her articulation is clear and good, she never appears to more advantage than in singing an English ballad; but beautiful and pathetic as many of these national compositions are, it is to be lamented that the music is so seldom worthy of them.

It is said that Mrs. Dickons has sung one song in England three hundred times, and it is probable that Miss Stephens will double that number in her performance of “Auld Robin Gray.”

The NOBLEMAN'S CATCH CLUB, at the Thatched House Tavern, is very difficult of access. It has been kept up with great spirit for sixty years. The society consists of forty-four members, among whom there are two princes, twelve nobles, with several baronets and honourables. It is a law, that each member shall possess 5001. a year in land, and sufficient talent to take a part in a glee. The members dine together every Tuesday from January to June, and twenty-two of the first professional singers are admitted as honorary members at this Anacreontic board. It is not wonderful, that in so illustrious a company, the genius of Webbe, Cooke, Danby, Paxton, and Calcot, should have been stimulated to produce those admirable compositions, which this society has rewarded by their gold medal These meetings had their origin in the time of Charles II. and the following composition by Purcell has never been equalled:Sum up all the delights the world can produce,

The darling allurements now chiefly in use: You'll find, when compared, there's none can contend

With the solid enjoyments of bottle and

friend.

For honour, or wealth, or beauty may

waste:

Those joys often fade, and rarely do last : They're so hard to attain, and so easily lost,

That the pleasure ne'er answers the trouble and cost. None,

In

ders over the thousand objects presented to view, in admiration and delight. If we place ourselves upon the sixth form on the violoncello side, we shall find it the best place to enjoy the music and to see the ballet: as in this situation we shall just catch the feet of the dancers. The overture announces by its dark harmony, the fatal career of Don Giovanni. Ambrogetti's performance of the Hero is the finest specimen of acting exhibited in this country. His vocal powers are not even of a second rate order, but his fine conceptions, his spirit and vivacity, so counterbalance every defect, that the impulse which he gives to our feelings, carries us over all his faults as a singer. De Begni, in Leporello, is scarcely inferior to Ambrogetti as an actor, but as a musician he ranks much before him. He has a fine bass voice-execution, science, and taste. Madame Ronzi de Begni, his wife, takes the part of Donna Anna, and most beautifully does she perform it. Her superior science, both in singing and acting, makes her a great acquisition. former years this character was ill supported, but in the hands of Ronzi it becomes the finest part of the Opera. Madame Camporese has long been a favourite for her refined manner of acting; but her singing is characterised by a rusticity that ill accords with the elegance of her person. Her tones, though rich and powerful, are, at times, vulgarly broad-they emanate from a wrong part of the throat, and are destitute of those fine inflections which the songs of Batti batti and Vedrai carino demand. It is more than probable that the Opera would be improved, if she and Ronzi were to change places. The latter has the prettiest tone that can be conceived; in accent and neatness it resembles the hautboy, and in tune it is perfection itself. Miss Mori's voice has been much beautified by the introduction of the "mezza voce," which renders her singing much more agreeable. Catalani was unquestionably the finest actress and singer that ever appeared upon this stage, but her knowledge in music was not sufficient to carry her through the elaborate compositions of Mozart, and the Opera was sacrificed to her individual performance; but now we have a greater distribution of talent-though not so brilliant, the superiority of its combined power is strikingly shewn in the sestettos.

The finale of the first act, where all

the Dramatis Persona surround Don Giovanni, charging him with his crimes, together with his defiance and intrepidity, is the very acme of dramatic and musical effect. The conclusion of this extraordinary production is not less striking than its commencement. At the moment when the Ghost gripes the delinquent by the hand, the screams of the wind instruments, mingled with the howl of the trombones, are truly appalling. The musician has displayed all the terror of his art-discord on discord mounts,' until the effect becomes almost overwhelming, and we have no hesitation in asserting, that for those to whom the slightest cultivation of the ear has opened an additional avenue to the imagination, the combined effect of the sounds and scenery is superior to any thing the dramatic art has yet attempted. July 10th, 1821.

WM. DELHARP.

For the Monthly Magazine. LETTERS from POMPEII, with illustrative Engravings.

I

Pompeii, June 20, 1819. SHALL now proceed to describe this city, which has been preserved, to all appearance, by the ashes from Vesuvius, in order to shew us that the pretended perfection of the existing state of things, is not so obvious as the conceit of the moderns has prompted them to believe. Situated about fourteen miles from Naples, Pompeii leaves Vesuvius to the north-west; it is scarcely upon the declivity of the mountain, and it may be imagined that its inhabitants believed themselves completely sheltered from the effects of its eruptions. Strabo, who flourished some years prior to the destruction of this city, tells us, that he conceived Vesuvius to be an extinguished volcano.

A vehicle which is procured at Naples, conducts you in three hours to Pompeii, when you traverse Portici, and even the royal palace, which is found in perfect reparation, and furnished by Murat. Under Portici, Herculanum lies buried; you then proceed by Torre del Greco, and Torre del Annunziata, the former of which is rendered famous by the reiterated devastations to which it has been subjected by the volcano. One might be led to believe that each shock of the mountain had communicated its effects to the neighbouring people, but, on the contrary, they live in a state of the most perfect indifference. After having passed the Torre del Annunziata,

nunziata, you enter a fine valley situated between the lengthened slope of Vesuvius, and other mountains skirting the sea; and upon their declivity is Castellamare, near to Stabiæ, where Pliny, the naturalist, was stifled and buried under the ashes of the famous eruption, which took place in the 79th year of our æra. He commanded the Roman forces at the Cape of Misenum, which forms the other extremity of the gulf of Naples. Upon the appearance of the phenomenon he embarked, came to Castellamare, and advanced towards Vesuvius. He could not have been in a worse situation; for the aperture in the mountain and the north-west wind directed the lava and smoke to that side, and he perished the victim of his love for the sciences. I was aware of my approach to Pompeii, and bent my regard around in order to observe it, when a mass of earth heaped together, and forming a slope, led me to conjecture such to be the spot which covers the remains of that unfortunate city. I quitted the carriage, and mounting the acclivity, beheld the vestiges of columns and the remnants of monuments, which are rescued by degrees from the oblivion wherewith the ashes had covered them, presenting to the view the appearance of our burial grounds, if we suppose the marble with which they are decorated, not so new, and less brilliant in appearance. In a short time we arrived at the portal, where we found the Ciceroni, and a guard house occupied by veteran soldiers. The garden is surrounded by a colonnade of brick, stuccoed and painted red, producing a good effect, where several inscriptions are found, indicating that it was formerly the barrack occupied by soldiery. It is difficult to obtain permission to make drawings in Pompeii, but which I had obtained from Mr. C. M., the artist employed by Prince Leopold. This title of painter to the Prince, together with some gratuities, ensured me the consideration of the guardians of the place; and I soon promenaded in those streets, and upon that very pavement which had been trodden by the Romans eighteen hundred years ago.

On quitting the barrack of the military, you behold the ancient theatre to the right, forming a half circle, surmounted by tiers of seats, and surrounded by a wall which supports the pillars, whereto was attached the cloth which entirely covered the theatre. The seats are formed of lava; the lower

ones less elevated, but broader than the others, being covered with marble. It is conjectured, though I do not join in such opinion, that they were formerly all decorated in this manner, but afterwards divested of their marble ornaments; and what leads me to conjecture otherwise is, that the tiers of lava are evidently worn in parts. The orchestra is semicircular, and very small, and the stage is not more than eight or ten feet in depth. The theatre contains a species of longitudinal chizelled canal, the use of which I cannot comprehend. The populace entered the building through two corridors, one above, and the other almost level with the orchestra; and over the door is an inscription preserving the name of the Consul under whom this monument was erected. If this theatre presents something novel to the modern eye, it has nothing tending to excite that degree of admiration which we are so frequently obliged to accord to the Romans. From hence you pass into a small street about 20 feet wide, conducting to the forum, which is paved with large blocks of stones of no regular form, but carefully chosen, so as not to leave open spaces; but whenever such happen to occur, the apertures are filled up with lead. The whole length of the street is skirted on either side with flag-stones, the pathway being three feet wide, divided at equal distances by square pilasters, covered with white, red, or blue stucco, upon which are painted objects indicating the profession of the inhabitants together with their names, in irregular letters, in black or red. At the door of a milkseller, for instance, a she goat was sculptured in the stone; the shops contained counters formed of brick, wherein are still to be seen the vases which contained the milk, wine, oil, and other liquids, and to the left of the vendor's-place are small marble steps, whereon were probably deposited the glasses or measures. I was a considerable time occupied in ascertaining how the doors were closed; grooves which I perceived in the pavement and around the angle of the pilasters, led me into an error, as I thence pictured to myself some species of hinge; but a door, almost calcinated, and still preserving its primitive form, which I found among the ashes, couvinced me that the pilasters were cased with wood-work, which entered these grooves, and that the pannels slid, similar to those used in Paris for closing up shops; and like

the