AT THE LONDON PHILHAR MONIC.

Evening Star, Issue 3690, 20 July 1875, Page 2

AT THE LONDON PHILHAR MONIC.

T went to hear that music in order, if it might bo, to rid my mind of an absorbing, irritating, personal annoyance, which I knew it was unworthy to ponder over, having graver and nobler anxieties, but could not, for tho life of me, dismiss from my thoughts for more than a few moments. '1 he ignoble worry, for it deserved no other name—perpetually reappeared, more exasperating and more persistent after each enforced banishment from my mind, and—as the French say of k naiurel —every time I chased it away, it ‘ ‘ revenait au galop .” It chanced that the piece was a quintette by Mendelssohn, and one which was new to me. It opened with a long-drawn sotto voce sigh from the violoncello, instantly responded to by a rapid, imitative, indignant little phtase from the first violin, which plainly exclaimed, “ bless my soul, how is it possible you don't understand f” This roused the other four instruments, all of whom endeavoured to sooths and explain, and matters appeared to be getting less agitating, whan the viola —who, to speak the truth, had merely been repeating without much earnestness, and in a mechanical sort of way, the explanations of the others—suddenly caught up the first violin’s point of view, and ex* claimed, “ God bless my soul, how is ic possible you don’t understand t” This produced a general protest: “ But we do understand. Don’t you hear what we say ? Why don’t you listen,” &0., &o. To which the first violin added; “ Why, that’s precisely what 1 say, ( God bless my soul, how is possible yon don’t understand T” The viola was somewhat confused at this, and declared that tfae violin had no occasion to be angry, for that, after all, she was supporting his view of the case; and the two continued for a short time agreeing very amicably together, murmuring “ Just so,” “ Exactly,” “Of course,” in quite friendly fashion, when the second violin burst out indignantly in its turn, scornfully remarking that it was “all very well to go on flattering one another in that way (“ They always do,” put in the double bass) but tho real fact of the matter was that not a single one of them really understood “ Not understand,” shouted the first violin and viola together; “ Why we understood from the very first that”—“And so did I,” said the double bass; “I saw from the beginning that”— But here the second violin grew quite desperate, and fairly shrieked out, “ God bless my soul, how is it possible you don’t understand ?” To describe the fury with which all turned upon tho second violin at this

would be Impossible. The violoncello tried hard to interpose, and even dewith some osparity, that nia*ters need never have gone so far, if instead of interrupting him at the very first word he uttered, they had only heard wha* he had to say—he even made what seemed to be an attempt; to say it sufficiently loud to be heard above the clamour of the others, but in vain; and his voice sank at last into a monotonous grumbling protest, which be kept up until the other four, who, with everincreasing violence, continued asking each other, all at once, “God bliss my soul, how 5a it possible you don’t understand ? suddenly came to an abrupt close, evidently from sheer exhaustion and want of breath. A moment of silence ensued, and the violoncello then repeated his first sigh, more softly still, and still more sadly than before, and as none of the others had any energy lelt to quarrel with him, remained mournfully master of the situation. Fanaticus Gbrmanicus.