5G 
MUSIC AT HOME. 
[Nature and Art, February 1, 1867. 
Eloribel’s last ballad. The strong-lunged and vulgar 
drones in the London beehive have likewise their 
vocal and instrumental festivals, though invitations 
thereto are given verbally, and the descriptive term 
“sing-song" is substituted for “soiree.” The con- 
sumptive nightingale Violetta’s AIl fors e lui, float- 
ing from the marble halls of Belgravian squares into 
the midnight air, helps to prove music a resource 
with the “ wealthy and curled darlings of the land;” 
the echoes of the latest specimen of Ethiopian 
serenade!- pathos (or bathos) behind the drawing- 
room blinds of Hai’ley, Gower, or staid Queen 
Anne Street, suggest that the divine art is held in 
equal esteem by the comfortably situated middle 
classes ; and is it not recorded by a thousand 
wandering minstrels that even the dwellers in the 
most sordid slums, have, in common with their 
betters an ear for music and a mind to cultivate it ? 
Poor Euterpe has sometimes little reason to 
admire the taste of either patrician or plebeian, 
and certainly deserves better treatment than she 
frequently experiences at the hands of that section 
of the community which may be designated the 
happy medium between high and low. We are all 
at liberty to accept the dogma, “ a little knowledge 
is a dangerous thing,” with a certain degree of 
reserve. When, however, that “ little knowledge ” 
is misapplied, in music especially, it conducts natural 
taste on the downward road with alarming rapidity, 
and promotes something more than a toleration of 
things known to be meretricious in every sense of 
the word. 
The ladies, “heaven bless ’em !” as a jocose con- 
temporary ecstatically observes, cannot, perhaps, 
be expected to dive deeply into the art of music ; 
but even skimming over the surface after the most 
approved custom, they might surely gather up more 
precious waifs and strays than they do. A little 
counsel is needed, but is, unfortunately, seldom 
forthcoming. Of what artists themselves might do 
for the advancement of music we shall hereafter 
speak ; but at present the maids of merry England 
are by no means indebted to the great body of 
concert vocalists for information as to where the 
best songs, native and foreign, are to be found. 
Assuming a young lady with a soiree musicale in 
view, and in search of a song ; how is she guided in 
her choice when face to face with a thousand sheets of 
spoiled paper in a music-shop 1 She, very probably, 
could count all the song- writers she ever heard of 
on the fingers of one white hand ; and as for 
estimating the worth of a ballad by looking at 
it, that is impossible. She could not, to save her 
life, purse her rosy lips and softly whistle the 
melody, supposing propriety sanctioned such a pro- 
ceeding ; and as for the accompaniment, that is 
very often a sealed book at first sight. Aurora is 
far more likely to require of Brown, Jones, or 
Robinson behind the counter, “ a pretty song with 
an easy accompaniment,” than simply a “ good 
one,” without any such stipulation. Obliging at- 
tendant Brown understands the dainty maiden at 
once, and lias quires of something worse than 
mediocrity conveniently at hand. It is not assistant 
Brown’s place to tell his charming vis-cl-vis that 
Mr. Henry Smart wrote an exquisite song called 
“ Hateful Spring,” with a difficult accompaniment ; 
that Mr. J. L. Hatton’s “ Rainy Day” admits of no 
compromise in the latter particular; or that Schubert 
and Mendelssohn composed songs which more than 
repay any one for the trouble of really studying 
them. He imparts no such information, but pro- 
duces “ Mopings at Daybreak,” and “ Midnight 
Maunderings,” by some feebly twinkling, though 
fashionable star of the musical firmament, and 
they are forthwith ordered of him. “ Counter 
Songs,” that is to say, compositions calculated to 
meet the views of those who have no deep feeling 
whatever for music, and who are anxious to dis- 
charge their individual obligation with the least 
possible trouble to themselves, must be in what are 
called, singularly enough, “ easy keys.” Five flats, 
or the same number of sharps, by way of signature, 
are abominations in the eyes of young ladies ; and 
an accompaniment made up of anything but the 
simplest chords is almost inadmissible. The supply 
of any kind of trash is generally equal to the 
demand ; and mediocrity, at the best, flourishes 
exceedingly at soirees musicales. 
We hear much in the present day of “ missions,” 
and it cannot surely be questioned that to the 
daughters in a family circle is chiefly confided the 
honour of music as an art. The responsibility is un- 
consciously accepted, and its importance decidedly 
undervalued. Young ladies possess, unknowingly, 
an immense power either to advance or retard the 
progress of true taste, and it is in home circles 
that everything noble and beautiful in the world 
of sweet sounds should be most eagerly sought after. 
Fathers and brothers, as a rule, neither sing nor play 
the pianoforte, but they frequently listen, and their 
taste must be influenced by what they constantly 
hear. There are cheering exceptions to every rule, 
and the newest valse, vocal or instrumental, is not 
the summit of every maiden’s ambition. While 
all tacitly admit singing and pianoforte-playing as 
duties owed to society ; and while, as we have 
already said, the vast majority take the least possible 
trouble in rendering this suit and service, there are 
some who set about the work in an earnest and con- 
scientious manner. Why should a composer submit 
to the indignities heaped upon him by his delightful 
young tyrants 1 Why should his accompaniments 
be mercilessly “vamped,” as they oftentimes are, 
and why should not his unfortunate unities be 
properly respected 1 Why, on the other hand, 
should his lilies be repainted, and his fine gold — • 
the pride of his fancy — be re-gilded, either by 
professionals or amateurs partial to ornamentation ; 
and why in any case should not his intentions 
be always religiously respected 1 Admirers of 
music are plentiful as blackberries in October, but 
devotees in private life do not abound. Those 
who take up music as a matter of course will con- 
descend to everything indicated above ; but true 
lovers of the art will do nothing of the kind. They 
give the composer credit for some kind of thought 
and mental power ; and first endeavouring to dis- 
