Physiology of the Opera — A Reader’s Guide

The Tenor as Melancholy Bandit

In the excerpt describing a typical opera scene, Scrici dissects the stock figure of the tenor-bandit chief. The curtain rises on 'a dark forest' where well-dressed desperadoes play cards—'all fours' or poker—and sing of their outlawry. The tenor enters, 'the mildest manner'd man That ever sculled ship or cut a throat,' his dejected visage prompting applause meant to raise his spirits. Scrici wryly notes that the audience's sympathy is automatic, responding to convention rather than drama. The tenor's lament about a damsel of Arragon whose voice 'slid into his heart like dew upon a parched flower' is called 'equally felicitous as novel,' exposing the formulaic nature of operatic plots. The bandits' indignant vow to follow their chief and 'boulversé all his designs by some insinuating digs of the poignard' completes the parody of heroic posturing.

The Audience as Performers

Scrici's mirror reflects not the stage but the house. He catalogues opera-goers by type: ladies who 'take a peep into this mirror' and find their features attractive, young gentlemen admiring their own 'striking and distingué appearance,' and mammas who use the opera box as a 'sort of matrimonial show window.' The author insists he has 'nothing extenuate nor aught set down in malice,' yet his descriptions are pointed. The old papa who 'rules 'change and keeps a stall' is flattered only insofar as his family's extravagance proves 'the stability of his commercial relations.' This is a social taxonomy disguised as entertainment, where the real drama is the audience's self-display. Scrici's refusal to gratify 'persons of over-strained morality' who condemn opera as a bad school of morals aligns him with neither censors nor enthusiasts.

Mock-Scholarship and Theatrical Jargon

The book's style mimics learned discourse while undercutting it. The opening paragraph dismisses 'wearying pedantry' about Greek tragedy, yet the author adopts a pseudo-scientific title—'Physiology'—and sprinkles Latin tags and literary allusions (Byron, Sterne, Shakespeare) throughout. The narrator's voice is that of a connoisseur who knows the jargon: 'contra-punto,' 'chromatic,' 'cantatorially,' 'boulversé.' Yet he also affects ignorance of slang, as when a 'fast man' suggests the bandits are 'nobs who had overdrawn the badger by driving fast cattle, and going it high'—a phrase the narrator claims not to understand. This layered irony keeps the reader uncertain whether Scrici is celebrating or satirizing the opera world. The result is a text that performs the very pretensions it anatomizes.

Readers should approach Physiology of the Opera as a period piece of social satire rather than a reliable guide to 1850s opera. The excerpts provide no plot summary or character list; the book's value lies in its style and its skewering of audience behavior. Those interested in performance history or the sociology of entertainment will find more here than opera enthusiasts seeking musical analysis. Scrici's mirror is held up to the spectators, not the stage.

That rainy afternoon, Physiology of the Opera made me laugh at how seriously we take our rituals—the coughs, the curtain, the collective sigh. It left me curious about the stories themselves, the ones making everyone weep. I found Stories from the operas — Inside the Classic on a shelf afterwards, and suddenly the spectacle felt like a family album.