EXTRAVAGANCES IN SINGING AND PIANO-PLAYING.
_(An Evening Party at Mr. Gold's.)_
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
MR. GOLD, _the banker (fond of music)._
MRS. GOLD _(sings, and is an invalid.)_
MR. SILVER, _bookkeeper (formerly a singer with Strauss)._
MR. PIOUS, _a friend of the family (a musical impostor, and a hypocrite
generally)._
MR. FORTE, _a foreign piano virtuoso (of weak nerves)._
DOMINIE, _a piano-teacher._
EMMA, _his daughter._
(_Mrs. Gold has just been singing in the modern Italian manner;
suddenly alternating exaggerated high and low tones, given in a
jerking manner, with inaudible _pianissimo_ in the throat, and
quavering on every note, with many ornaments, and always a quarter
of a tone too flat. She sang all the four verses of "Fondly I Think
of Thee" by Krebs._)
DOMINIE. Will you not go on, Mrs. Gold? The piano is a little too high,
and you are obliged to accustom yourself a little to it.
MRS. GOLD. I cannot sing any more. That beautiful song has taken such
hold of me, and I feel so badly. (_Whispers to Dominie._) Mr. Forte did
not accompany me well, either: sometimes he did not come in right, and
played too feebly; and sometimes he improvised too much in playing, and
overpowered my voice, which is a little weak just now.
DOMINIE (_aside to Emma_). What an evening of singing! Oh dear!
MR. GOLD (_who has been earnestly talking about stocks all the evening
in an adjoining room, rushes in, but rather late, after the close of the
song, and impetuously presses his wife's hand_). Marvellous!
magnificent! delicious! wonderful! My dear, you are in excellent voice
this evening. If Jenny Lind could only have heard you!
MR. PIOUS. Charming! superb! how touching! There is a religious
character in this piece, something holy about it! I beg of you, do sing
that air by Voss, "True Happiness." That will make our enjoyment
complete; it is truly ravishing! There is something divine in singing,
and your expression, your feeling, Madam! You give yourself up so
entirely to the composition!
(_Mrs. Gold has already taken up "True Happiness," and can hardly
wait while Mr. Forte murmurs off the introduction, quite after his
own fancy, with a sentimental _piano_. Mr. Pious drops a tear at
the close of the introduction, the four bars of which have been
transformed into eight bars by the great _virtuoso_. During the
tremulous, affected performance of "True Happiness," Mr. Pious
rolls up his moistened eyes; and, at the end of the first verse,
where the accompanist once more gives the reins to his fancy, he
says, "I am speechless, I cannot find words to express my
emotion!"_)
DOMINIE (_aside to Emma_). That you may call forged sentiment, the
counterfeit of feeling. You hear now how one ought _not_ to sing. For an
earnest, true musician, such a warmth in singing is only empty
affectation, disgusting, sentimental rubbish, and hollow dissimulation.
You will, however, frequently meet with such amateur infelicities.
(_Mrs. Gold has finished singing all the verses of "True
Happiness," and seems now to have almost entirely recovered. Mr.
Gold continues to converse about stocks in the adjoining room.
Dominie remains with Emma at the end of the parlor, depressed and
worried._)
MR. FORTE (_keeps his seat at the piano, and says in French to Mrs.
Gold_). Madam, you have reached the climax of the beautiful in music. I
count it one of the happiest moments of my artistic tour to be allowed
to breathe out my soul at the piano, in the presence of one like
yourself. What a loss, that your position must prevent you from
elevating the German opera to its former greatness, as its most radiant
star!
MRS. GOLD (_by this time quite well_). I must confess that Jenny Lind
never quite satisfied me when she was here. She is, and must always
remain, a Swede,--utterly cold. If she had been educated here, she would
have listened to more passionate models than in Stockholm, and that
would have given the true direction to her sensibility.
MR. FORTE. You are quite right; you have a just estimate of her. In
Paris, where she might have heard such examples, she lived in perfect
retirement. I was giving concerts there at the time; but she refused to
sing in my concerts, and therefore she did not even hear me.
MR. SILVER (_whom the excitement of the singing has at length reached_).
Do you feel inclined now, Madam, to execute with me the duet from "The
Creation," between Adam and Eve?
MRS. GOLD. Here is "The Creation," but we will sing it by and by. Mr.
Forte is just going to play us his latest composition for the left hand,
and some of the music of that romantic, deeply sensitive Chopin.
MR. GOLD (_rushes in from his stock discussion_). Oh, yes! Chopin's B
major mazourka! That was also played at my house by Henselt, Thalberg,
and Dreyschock. Oh, it is touching!
ALL (_except Mr. Silver, Dominie, and Emma_). Oh, how touching!
DOMINIE (_to his daughter_). If he plays it in the same manner in which
he accompanied "True Happiness," you will hear how this mazourka should
_not_ be played. It, by the way, is not at all _touching_: it gives
quite boldly the Polish dance rhythm, as it is improvised by the
peasants in that country; but it is, however, idealized after Chopin's
manner.
(_Mr. Forte plays several perilous runs up and down with various
octave passages, all the time keeping his foot on the pedal; and
connects with these immediately, and without a pause, the mazourka,
which he commences _presto_. He played it without regard to time or
rhythm, but with a constant _rubato_, and unmusical jerks. A few
notes were murmured indistinctly _pp._, and played very
_ritardando_; then suddenly a few notes were struck very rapidly
and with great force, so that the strings rattled; and the final B
major chord cost the life of one string._)
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 passes 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 Döhler,
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 passage. Was that accidental?
EMMA (_aside_). He ought to have played a little slower just there.
MR. FORTE. In such beautiful passages, 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 æsthetic
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 passionate 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 Kücken, and finish, if the company
wishes, with the "Grâce" 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 soirées 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, Döhler'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 "Grâce"
aria. At midnight there was a grand supper, washed down with sweet wine,
and seasoned with bitter recollections of this musical evening.