sions, and of recognising them by the features of the actors. Every expression of an impassioned man affects us, and we are moved in a greater degree than where the passions are interpreted by means of action and the voice. Besides, the ancient actors could not render visible in their faces the symbols of the passions. It was rare that they quitted the mask, and there were many who never appeared upon the stage without them. We lose much, it is true, by our actors wearing rouge, which destroys the truthful effect which would be otherwise produced by the change of colour produced by the working of the various emotions, which in nature has a powerful effect upon the feelings. But the mask of the ancient actors still more concealed this than does the comparatively modern adoption of rouge. It may be conceded in favour of masks that they did not conceal the eyes of the actor, and that the eyes speak more intelligibly than any other feature. We must avow that the greater number of the passions, and more especially the tender, could not be so well expressed by a masked actor as by one whose face was visible. The latter may avail himself of all the means to express passion which the actor masked could employ, and cause us to behold much of which the other could not avail himself. The fact is, that it was impossible that the play of the features could have been distinctly seen by the spectators at so great a distance from the actor. The ancients derived an advantage from the concavity of their masks, which served to augment the sound of the voice; this we learn from Autris Gellius, who daily witnessed their performances. Those who acted tragedy covered their heads with masks of wood, and it was the opening which they had the means of managing which enabled the listeners to hear their declamations at so great a distance. While the masks served to convey the voice across so extended an arena, the spectators could have lost but little by not distinguishing the expression of the face, unless assisted by a Rosse's telescope. Though the expression was missed, still could they easily discern the age, and the other marked character of the mask. There is little question but the ancient masks were necessary to the ancient theatres. The Abbe Pachichelli has sought the origin and uses in his treatise de Marcheris ceu Larvis; and an erudite Italian, Ficoronius Franciscus, has gathered on the same subject most curious particulars in a later dissertation. But in spite of these literary and antiquarian researches, there is much yet that requires explanation on the subject of masks. Perhaps this would not have been the case, had we not lost the books that Dionysius, of Halicarnassus, Rufus, and many other writers of antiquity had written on the subject of theatres. Plabbius derives the word mask from Masca, which he says, properly signifies a sorcerer in the laws of the Lombards. In Dauphiny, in Savoy, and in Piedmont, they still continue to call sorcerers by this name, because they disguise themselves. Thus we call masks a false face, and hence our masquerades.

It is said that Harlequin owes his origin to a famous Italian comedien who arrived in France in the reign of Henry the Third. As he frequently visited the house of the President Harlai, who patronised him, his comrades called him in derision or through envy Arlechino. Originally he was the established wit of the Italian comedies; he enunciated apropos of the time; and spared neither the throne, the pulpit, nor the bar; but the public grew tiredtime bereft him of his teeth, and policy of his tongue; and all that now remain to him are his patched suit, his mask, his Italian cap, and his lath. He trips and attitudinizes-leaps through walls-is shot out of cannons, and leads a wandering life. For two months in the year he rejoices in the genial warmth of the foot-lamps; then disappears; and is seen no more till the year has revolved upon its axis. He comes with the winter, and then is lost in the crowd of thirty-shilling-a-week histrions. And thus also with Columbine, who, from being the petted soubrette of Goldoni, and scores of Italian farce writers, has in her decadence been fain to exist on Christmas favours, during the run of the pantomime, and then is seen in the front line of the ballet, and is the foremost figure in the picturesque groupings.

Pantaloon belongs to the same Italian family, and derives his name from the

drawers formerly worn, to which were attached the stockings. His costume has somewhat changed in this respect, but the rest of his dress is still that which was worn at Venice. He is a servile dotard, who serves as the shuttlecock of Clown and Harlequin.

The rollicking fun of Clown seems to have departed with Delpini and Grimaldi -the thefts now-a-days are the prosiest of petty larcenies and apart from the conventional "Here we are! How are yer ?" and sundry tumbles and flip-flaps, and "Hot Codlins," the true spirit has evaporated. Still we welcome them gleefully, for they bring back to us the bright moments of our "salad days," when all was green, and though "Time has thinned our flowing hair," Christmas would not be Christmas to us did we miss the annual advent of THE NEW COMIC PANTOMIME.

LIFE ASSURANCE IN REFERENCE TO BUILDING

SOCIETIES.

For the last ten or fifteen years a new feature of industry has arisen in this country, which has the noble object in view of enabling the poorer classes of the community to become independent householders, in some measure like their richer fellow members of humanity. A series of societies have been, and are still being formed in great numbers all over the country, under the name of Building Societies, for the purpose of affording to the working classes facilities for appropriating their savings to investment in the purchase of houses. The members principally consist-first, of parties called investors, or non-borrowers, who pay in their savings monthly, that they may at the end of a certain time (generally ten or fourteen years) receive back a large sum, representing the compound accumulations of those savings; and, secondly, of borrowing members, who enter for the purpose of at once borrowing sufficient money to purchase a house, the purchase-money being secured by a mortgage of the house for a certain period, which is redeemable by monthly payments during that time. It is almost inconceivable the rapidity with which these societies have multiplied during the last two or three years, and although many of them are formed on a principle of payment which is palpably erroneous, yet all seem to succeed in inducing an amount of subscription which, in the gross, must be estimated at many millions of pounds sterling. Of course the borrowers are in great numbers, and as yet there is no doubt (whatever be the practical objections to the pretended theory upon which the rules of payment are grafted) that a vast amount of economical spirit is promoted, which must have a beneficial effect on the habits of the industrious yet ill-paid portion of this nation. One point, however, of great importance has been until lately lost sight of, which we are glad to perceive is now attempted to be provided for. We allude to the circumstance that, as most of the borrowers are men possessed of incomes depending upon their lives, in many instances the object of several years' saving has been frustrated by their sudden death; inasmuch as by that event before the house is redeemed from the building society, it is liable to be seized and sold again for the remainder of the debt; unless the family of the borrower are in a position to continue the monthly payment for the remainder of the time agreed upon. This, unfortunately, too rarely is the case, and great has been the suffering in many families by the sudden loss of its head, and, consequently, the result of his savings. This, then, is an instance of the advantage of life assurance, which, properly applied, can remove entirely the disastrous effect of the painful contingency. Until lately assurance companies have apparently regarded the matter as one not sufficiently important to make it an object of special consideration. In the last year, however, some of the assurance offices have taken it up, and made considerable efforts to arrest the attention of borrowing members to the liability their families are exposed to, in case of their sudden death, unless their lives are assured. Of these offices, the Western Life Assurance seems to be that which has met the peculiar difficulties of the question in the most comprehensive manner. The actuary of that society, Mr. Scratchley (a gentleman of considerable authority in matters relating to building societies), has, with great practical shrewdness, devised two plans, which combine every contingency that can affect a borrower's family, both in respect to the amount of his monthly payments, or the peculiar construction of the building society to which his house is mortgaged. These plans, and others prepared by other assurance companies-as the Great Britain, &c., are very fully explained in the respective prospectuses; and we feel that we cannot too strongly urge upon all borrowers the necessity of their availing themselves of the facilities thus abundantly offered to them of protecting their families from loss; and, in conclusion, we may mention that every information they can desire upon this subject can be ascertained, without expense, by application at the offices.

L

DRAMATIC

AND MUSICAL MIRROR.

DRURY LANE THEATRE.

THE old aspersion that the English is not a musical nation, that the elements necessary to constitute a lyrical composer were absent, that the taste of the people was lacking, we have earnestly and upon all occasions strenuously combated. When England was merry England, she could boast of writers who might proudly take rank with the most accomplished composers of the Continent, and though the refulgence of our stage poets cast all the sister arts into a comparative shade, still did music hold her humanising sway from the court to the cottage. There was not a family of the middle classes that could not join in the madrigal or glee; reading at sight was an almost universal accomplishment, and though the means and appliances for the production of a complete opera were wanting, because they were then unknown, yet did the people languish for the musical interpretation of the drama. In all the loftier phases of the divine art England has ever been foremost-the master minds of other nations have here found a home and an abiding place, when the want of patronage has driven them forth from their native lands. They have been welcomed here, and here have been first heard their most inspired works. When Germany refused to alleviate the necessities of Beethoven, the warm hand of a sympathising friendship was extended to him by our Philharmonic. Here, too, the lamented and greatly-gifted Mendelssohn was, in his youth, warmed into self-appreciation; here the giant Handel produced his mighty musical epics; and here were first heard many of the most exquisite quartetts of Haydn. The strongest proof of a pure love of art is a kindred love for its professors; and in what other nation of the earth have the disciples of the art received a more genial welcome? Music is an universal language-its sounds appeal at once to all sympathies-and albeit the climate may impress upon it a peculiar colouring, still the melody, which to music is as the soul to the body, awakens in all hearts a responsive chord.

It has been said, and truly said, that when the appointed time for any special development has arrived, the means invariably present themselves for its reception and welcome. Operatic music since Purcell wrote-who, it would seem, at one bound reached perfection -had not received any specific impetus; indeed, the true lyric drama, as now understood, could not be said to exist, operas were merely comedies interspersed with ballads, and the intrigue of the pieces and the conflicting passions of the actors were rendered by dialogue. The expression of dramatic emotion by musical means was not dreamed of, and the giving a peculiar musical colouring to the subject did not exist. The Artaxerxes of Arne, is the single work built upon the Italian model which had succeeded—some others were attempted, but failed to attract. The foreign operas succeeded somewhat under the management of Mr. Arnold, at the old Lyceum, but from the general poverty of the then Continental repertoires, he was fain to have recourse to native writers. The new theatre was opened with Nourjahad, the music written by Mr. Edward Loder. In this there was much merit, but the poem was essentially un-lyrical in the construction, and after keeping a short possession was consigned to oblivion. Then came John Barnett's Mountain Sylph, which, despite the puerility of the subject, and other poetical drawbacks from the spirit, truth, and freshness of the melodies, and the picturesqueness of the scene, secured an unparalleled popularity. Subsequently, Mr. Bunn opened Drury Lane with the special object of producing opera, and under his management our native composers found a medium for the audition of their works. Barnett, Balfe, Loder, Macfarren, Lavenu, and others, each produced works with more or less success; but the means were not then available to produce them with efficiency, and hence the attempt ultimately failed. M. Jullien has commenced his managerial career under peculiarly fortunate circumstances, for he has been enabled to collect a vocal troupe capable of interpreting the most important works. That no effort will be spared to render Drury Lane a grand operatic establishment, even his short management has sufficiently evidenced. From such an orchestra, and such a choral force-the real foundations of lyrical completeness-as have been collected, the highest results may be secured. English composers have now no excuse to render on the score of inefficient rendering-they will have to rest on their own merits, and must stand or fall upon their individual desert.

The opening of the theatre as a Grand Opera will prove an epoch in England. M. Jullien thus far has not kept the word of promise to the ear and broke it to the hope, for

the concentration of means is unparalleled in any Continental theatre. It must be kept in mind that the lyrical drama in this country depends on the single unassisted energy of the director. There are no 50,000l. advanced by the Government for its culture and duration. The remuneration cannot even be secured by an ad valorem duty. The most lavish expenditure may be wasted, the finest judgment exercised in vain, the most accomplished company engaged, and the merest accident may destroy success. There is no special fund to fall back upon for sustenance; commercial distress, inclement weather, counter-attraction, and the thousand ills that theatres are heir to, may crush the best organised plans, and blight the prospects. And then it must be considered that, of all theatrical exhibitions, opera is the most expensive; the elements are so numerous and various, and the period necessary for the perfect rendering of works so lengthened. Still, we think such is the universal love for lyrical art in England, that, despite all difficulties -and these are legion-that the present attempt will be triumphant.

The aristocracy may now listen without fear of having their aurical refinement wounded. They may hear their favourite Lucia in an English theatre, without dishonouring comparisons with the Italian singers, and be present at an ensemble equal to any European establishment. Give to the present worthy attempt but the prestige which fashion secures, and we need not fear that English composers will have to veil their bonnets before the much be-praised composers of Germany, Italy, and France. A fitting arena and a general patronage are all that is wanting. Independently, however, of this consideration, a proper school is necessary for its proper culture; let this be once established, and we have no fears. And even if, as has been well observed by a contemporary, that for the present we must have recourse to the works of foreign composers, they must still be our teachers; and if in the long run they teach us to beat them, so much the greater our profit. The French are really less musical than ourselves, but they have a superior musical stage; and it is to their old and constant practice of naturalising in their own national opera, the Academie Royale de Musique, the productions of Italy and Germany that their superiority is owing. This practice is of a century's standing, and ever since the days of Glück and Pacini, whose rivalry as writers for the French stage will be ever memorable in the annals of music, it has been continued without the slightest interruption. Not only the public, but the most eminent men of letters, took a zealous interest in the progress of their national opera, and evinced it by strenuously supporting, according to their taste and predilections, the one or the other of these two great men.

Pacini, upon his arrival at Paris, knew scarcely a word of French, but the great Marmontel gave him lessons. Marmontel's own account of the matter is amusing and instructive. "Imagine," he says, "the trouble I had in giving him lessons! Line by line, word by word, I had everything to explain, and when he had laid hold of the meaning of a passage, I recited it to him, marking the accent, the prosody, and the cadence of the verses. He listened eagerly-and I had the satisfaction to see that what he heard was carefully noted down. His delicate ear seized so readily the accent of the language and the measure of the poetry, that in his music he never mistook them. It was an inexpressible pleasure to me to see him practise, before my eyes, an art of which I had, till then, no idea. His harmony was in his mind-he wrote his air with the utmost rapidity, and when he had traced its design, he filled up all the part of the score, distributing the parts of melody and harmony just as a skilful painter would distribute on his canvass the colours, lights, and shadows of his picture. When all this was done, he opened his harpsichord, which he had been using as his writing-table, and then I heard an air, a duet, a chorus, completed in all its parts, with a truth of expression, an intelligence, a unity of design which delighted both my ear and my feelings." From that time downwards, an uninterrupted series of great German and Italian composers have devoted their talents to the French musical stage. Among them are Sacchini, Wurzer, Spontini, Cherubini, Paer, Rossini, and Meyerbeer-the writer might have added Balfe-and to the emulation inspired by them, we owe the best works of Michael Kreutzer, Le Sueur, Boieldieu, Auber. We feel assured that a similar system will produce a similar result.

It was judicious to open the theatre with the opera of the Lucia, for the subject was well known, and the music had acquired a universal popularity. The new singers could be tested by their antecedents, and a fair judgment exercised upon their claims to public estimation. The introduction of foreign prime donne upon the English stage is of very ancient usage. Billington, Mara, Storace, Malibran, and others, had each become almost naturalised; and therefore the engagement of so brilliant a vocalist as Madame Dorus Gras was a fine stroke of policy. This lady was greatly esteemed as an eminent concert singer in England, and had created many of the leading characters at the Grand French Opera; yet did M. Jullien, not content with this invaluable acquisition to our