MR. GOLD. Excellent! bravissimo! What a comprehension of the piece! Such artistic performances make one even forget the stock-exchange!

MRS. GOLD. You agitate my inmost nerves! The English poet, Pope, holds that no created man can penetrate the secrets of nature; but you have penetrated the secrets of my soul. Now do play at once the F sharp minor mazourka, opus 6.

MR. PIOUS. What a musical evening Mrs. Gold has prepared for us! What sublime sorrow lies in this production!

MR. SILVER (_aside_). What would Father Strauss say to this affected, unmusical performance, that bids defiance to all good taste?

DOMINIE. Mrs. Gold, it would be well to send for the tuner to replace this broken B string. The next one will break soon, for it is already cracked, and its tone is fallen.

MR. FORTE (_with a superior air_). It is of no consequence. That frequently happens to me; but I never mind it. The piano is a battle-field where there must be sacrifices.

DOMINIE (_whispers to Emma_). He thinks that if the sound is not musical, still it makes a noise; and tones out of tune produce more effect than those that are pure.

EMMA. Where did he learn piano-playing?

DOMINIE. My child, he has not _learned_ it. That is genius, which comes of itself. Instruction would have fettered his genius, and then he would have played distinctly, correctly, unaffectedly, and in time; but that would be too much like the style of an amateur. This uncontrolled hurly-burly, which pays no regard to time, is called the soaring of genius.

(_Mr. Forte storms through various unconnected chords with the greatest rapidity, with the pedal raised; and pa.s.ses without pause to the F sharp minor mazourka. He accents vehemently, divides one bar and gives it two extra quarter notes, and from the next bar he omits a quarter note, and continues in this manner with extreme self-satisfaction till he reaches the close; and then, after a few desperate chords of the diminished seventh, he connects with it Liszt's Transcription of Schubert's Serenade in D minor. The second string of the two-lined b snaps with a rattle, and there ensues a general whispering "whether the piece is by Mendelssohn, or Dohler, or Beethoven, or Proch, or Schumann," until finally Mr. Silver mentions Schubert's Serenade. Mr. Forte concludes with the soft pedal, which in his inspired moments he had already made frequent use of._)

DOMINIE (_to Emma_). You should never play in company, without mentioning previously what you are going to perform. You observe, as soon as the Serenade was mentioned, it put a stop to the guessing.

ALL (_except Mr. Silver and Dominie_). What a glorious performance! what an artistic treat!

MRS. GOLD. What spirituality in his playing!

MR. SILVER (_asking Mr. Forte for information_). I noticed, in the Serenade, you made only one bar of the two where it modulates to F major, in your rapid playing of the pa.s.sage. Was that accidental?

EMMA (_aside_). He ought to have played a little slower just there.

MR. FORTE. In such beautiful pa.s.sages, every thing must be left to the suggestion of one's feelings. Perhaps another time I may make three bars, just as inspiration and genius may intimate. Those are aesthetic surprises. Henselt, Moscheles, Thalberg, and Clara Wieck do not execute in that manner, and consequently can produce no effect, and do not travel.

DOMINIE (_to Emma_). I hope that your natural taste and your musical education will preserve you from such preposterous extravagances.

EMMA. Such playing makes one feel quite uncomfortable and worried.

Probably that is what you call "devilish modern"?

DOMINIE. Yes.

EMMA. But do people like it?

DOMINIE. Certainly: a great many people do. It has the superior air of genius, and sounds very original.

(_Mrs. Gold has "The Creation" in her hand, and Mr. Silver leads her to the piano for the execution of the grand duet between Adam and Eve. Mr. Forte is exhausted, and Dominie plays the accompaniment. Mr. Silver sings intelligently and unaffectedly; Mrs. Gold, as before, but with still less regard to time, and more out of tune; but she tries to compensate for this by introducing very long ornaments at the _fermate_ in the _allegro_, sung with her thin, piercing, over-strained voice; and she frequently rolls up her black eyes. At the conclusion, Mrs. Gold was led to the arm-chair, in great exhaustion of feeling._)

MR. PIOUS. The divine art of music celebrates its perfect triumph in such interpretations of Haydn. Mrs. Gold, were those delicious _fermate_ of your own invention?

MRS. GOLD. NO: the charming Viardot-Garcia first introduced them as Rosina in "The Barber of Seville," and I had them written down by a musician in the theatre. But the employment of them in this duet is my own idea. I have already surprised and delighted a great many people with them in parties. The grand, rushing, chromatic scale with which the artistic Garcia astonishes every one, when acting the dreaming, fainting Amina in "La Somnambula," I introduce in the grand aria of the divine "Prophet;" rather timidly, it is true, for the boldness of a Garcia can only be acquired on the stage.

EMMA. But, father, Jenny Lind sang in this duet in Vienna, quite simply, and with a pure religious spirit.

DOMINIE. That is the reason Mrs. Gold says that Jenny Lind sings too coldly, and ought to listen to more pa.s.sionate models. But we will talk more about this at home.

MRS. GOLD. Now, Mr. Dominie, will not your daughter Emma play us some little trifle? Afterwards I will execute with Mr. Silver, "By thy loving kindness, O Lord," and a few duets by Kucken, and finish, if the company wishes, with the "Grace" aria.

DOMINIE. Will you allow me first to replace this broken string?

(_After Dominie has finished, Mr. Forte strides up to the piano, and plays his Etude for the left hand, with the right hand extended towards the company._)

DOMINIE (_to Mr. Forte, after the conclusion of the piece_). Would it not have been easier and more to the purpose, if you had used both hands?

MR. FORTE. We must forgive old people such pedantic observations. You entirely mistake my stand-point. Do you not see that I am standing with one foot in the future? Are you not aware that the public wish not only to listen, but to see something strange? Do you not perceive also that my appearance of ill-health produces a great musical effect?

MR. PIOUS. Do you not feel the special charm and the fine effect which is produced by the left hand playing alone, and no less by the right hand extended?

DOMINIE. Is it so? Well, probably feeling has taken a false direction with me. I shall be obliged to accustom myself to such Parisian flights of sentiment.

(_Emma played Chopin's Ballad in A flat major, after Dominie had previously announced it. The company were attentive._)

MR. FORTE (_at the conclusion_). Bravo! A very good beginning, Mr.

Dominie. I am sorry that I am obliged to take leave now: I am obliged to go to two more soirees this evening, and have many letters of introduction to deliver.

MR. SILVER. Miss Emma, I have just heard that you play finely a great deal of Chopin's music. Let us hear his two latest nocturnes.

MRS. GOLD (_to Emma_). Have you heard the famous Camilla Pleyel play Kalkbrenner's charming D minor concerto? Do you not also play such brilliant music? for example, Dohler's beautiful, pathetic Notturno in D flat. Mr. X. lately played that to us enchantingly.

EMMA. I know it. I am teaching it to my little sister, Cecilia.

DOMINIE. Will you allow her now to play Chopin's two nocturnes, Opus 48?

I will say nothing about the conclusion of the singing,--the "Grace"

aria. At midnight there was a grand supper, washed down with sweet wine, and seasoned with bitter recollections of this musical evening.

CHAPTER XV.

CONCLUSION.

I have received the following communication from an old literary friend, to whom I sent my eighth chapter, requesting his opinion of it:--

MOTTO.

_There are unreceptive times, but that which is eternal outlives all times._--JOH. VON MuLLER.

MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have read your eighth chapter. What you facetiously call "the three trifles" seem to me to be three most important points, even if you had described them simply as _fine_ taste, _deep_ feeling, and _a good_ ear. Who expects superlative excellence from the age in which he lives, and who dares to attack it, in its most vulnerable parts? You grow more harsh and disagreeable, and you do not seem to consider how many enemies you make, among those who think that they have long ago advanced beyond these three points. Just now, too, when there is so much said about "the intellectual" in music, and about "the inner nature of the future," and when such fine expressions are invented about it, you come forward with your three unseasonable trifles in the superlative degree. Do you imagine that our intelligent age cannot discern your hidden satire?