LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2520, 6 May 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

OUR AMATEUR CONCERT. A TALE CF Blf} PROMISE AND SMALL PERFORMANCE{ConcIuded). We left a somewhat dispiriting scene behind us. Tho Misses Markham were clearing their throats every minute, and looking feverishly over the glee that opened the programme, whispering now and then to each other, as they pointed out different parts of it. * I hope I shan’t go flat there ;’ ‘ I’m certain I shall crack on that F sharp,’ or * When I b eak down hero you must just go on without me. dear.’ Ella Dean was looking fixedly into spacs, her brows slightly contracted, her breathing hurried, a copy cf her piece on her lap, acd her cold, ungloved hands reposing on it. The violinists were tuning up their instruments and maintaining a rather disconnected conversation. Interspersed with somewhat gasping langhs. Mr Downs and Mr Wilson stood with folded arms and clos-d Ups, apparently solving some knotty uatbematical problems in their heads. Fred Hardwlcke could not forbear some jokes at tho expense cf his fellow performers, but he owned to being in a ‘confounded funk’ himself. Little Button, who had superintended tho preparation and decoration of tho concert room and the getting of tho piano, a huge ‘ grand ’ from Bin Chester, was full of importance. His color was higher than nenal, his manner was very civil, his little feet kept tripping to the door of the ante rcom and back to report how tho hall was fi.'llng, and altogether I was gratified to note that he, too, was nervons. Old Biddlecombe was tho only one of the party who seemed at hia ease. There he stood, drtssed out to perform, a diamond twinkling in his shirt front, his white gloves clasped behind him, Bis face redder than ever, and his figure looking a vast deal too pronounced for tho pUtform. Mrs Smallwood gave him a thoughtful glance as she prepared to go away, and I heard her say to her husband, as they walked before mo. ‘I wish I could have persuaded uncle not to sing !’ Settled in the front row of the reserve seats, I took a survey of the room. Decorations on a grand scale. About two dozen evergreens in pots, grouped lavishly round tho foot of tho platform. Names of six composers illuminated in blue and crimson letters

on white paper tablets, and stack at intervals on the wall above the platform —Beethoven, with three dead bay-leaves curling over the top of him; Thalberg and Liszt, each adorned with a couple of holly berries; Gounod, Blumonthal, and i ibdin left plain. Having somewhat recovered from the effect of this overwhelming display, I found leisure to recognise round me several faces I had seen as ehurch and met at neighboring houses during my stay at Smallwood Hall. Mr and Smallwood were greeted wilh countless ‘ How d’ye do’s,’ taps on the shoulder, and inquiries from the numerous friends seat-rd near them. I looked at my watch. Five minutes past eight. A storm of applause from the expectant audience was a gentle hint that it was time to begin. I glanced at the auto-room door, and saw Button's face Jwithdrawnjirapidly from the aperture, I could not forbear a smile and a selfish thanksgiving that I was not one of the doomed creatures who figured on the programme. In another moment up came Mr Downs 1: ading Miss Fanny Markham, and up came Mr Wilson leading Miss Annie. Little Sutton tripped lightly after them, and glided to the instrument to accompany. Bn thnslastic marks of approval burst from the audience.

It was easy enough to come up, but not so easy it seemed, to arrange themselves. Our glee-singers were evidently on a platform for the first time iu their lives. On coming up tho two gentlemen stood in the middle, with a lady on each outside. Th’s seemed *o strike them as wrong. The gentlemen stepped back to allow the ladies to pass into the centre position. The ladies, not understanding their intention, stepped back also They collided, An audible titter ran through the audience, though they kept on clapping Mrs Smallwood lo >ked hard at her programme, and bit her lip. An agreeable but somewhat puzzling little episode ensued among onr friends on the platform. With crimson faces, and a pained expression on tbo same, they seemed bent on performing a scrap out of a quadrille. The soared faces of the two violinists were plainly visible peering from the artistes’ room. At last, with a desperate plunge, the unlucky four advanced to the front, tho two girls in the middle and the gentlemen outside. Tno clapping continued. ‘Bow! bowl’ Sutton had bean muttering ever since taking his place at the instrument. Fanny Markham heard it at length, and straightway performed a spasmodic, apologetic obeisance. Her colleagues caught it ar If it had been a yawn, and followed her example, hurriedly and not too gracefully. Then began a mighty rustling and turning over of mus’c, and a furtive compa ing of divers passages, together with an exchange of frightened, beseeching glances between the glee-singers. Mr Downs dropped his copy and picked it up ag in The clapping ceased. A feeble prelude trickled over the keys of the concert grand, and the glee commenced.

I do not know if my reader is acquainted with the glee entitled 'The Matadorts.’ It is not a bad one in its way, and possesses the desideratum (with some persons) that a vast am nut of noise can be got ont of lb. The bass voice has, among other trifling duties, to imitate the billowing of a bull—metadores, I believe, have some mysterious connection with those animals. Mr Downs had been wont to do this part rather well Bus, alas ! to-night he began the bellowing of the musical beast much too scon ; found out his error j ceased ; forgot when it ought to or me in ; completely lost his head ; and did nothing bat give a series of feeble, experimental bellows, at intervals of five or six bars, throughout the whole of the first part of the composition Fanny Markham was a semitone flat, and her sister about the same interval sharp. Wilson cranked on alibis high notes—so the effect was altogether pleating. When they reached the end of the first part Fanny and Annie looked unutterable things at each other, and the two men stared hard at their music. The second part went better ; the bellowing came la all right, and, being sung with double force, proved a setoff against the previous failure. A hearty burst of ap clause greeted the four as they filed cheerfully off, followed by little Sutton, in Smallwood breathed more freely.

‘ Now,’ she mnrmered, * things will go better ; the ice is broken.’ True, Mrs Smallwood ! the ice is broken ! Let us hope none of_our performers will rail into the hole ! Sutton was the next on the list. His ’Deram Dance’ was a discordant thing enough, even at Smallwood Hall, hut now ! I don’t believe even demons could have danced to it, such a wild scramble did It prove. It contained, moreover, many and many a discord, of which I am certain the learned abbe who wrote it was quite innocent. There was a pause, too, in one place, that I never remember noticing before. Ho managed to get through it, however, and went off hastily j and I saw not on very good terms with himself.

Then came ‘The Fairy’s Home.’ Miss Fanny Markham was not to be congratulated on her rendering of this ballad. She opened her lips with the best cf intentions, but only a faint, whispering gasp represented the ' Fairy’s ’ trills, turns, and bravura passages. The audienoa, who had not attained to the pitch of musical refinement referred to above, were evidently relieved when the Fairy finished her somewhat lengthy description of her residence ‘in the woodland green and the dells and vales,’ and was conducted out cf their sight.

‘ Now, ’ thought I, ‘poor Ella must come nnder fire 1’

I was really anxious and sympathetic about this poor child, for not only had she a pretty, modest face and manner, but I admired the pluck which mads her persevere in her determination to play. They led her up. She was as colorless as her white frock, and had far too many other matters to think about, to dream of bowing to the room, * Poor child !’ whispered a lady in the row behind; ‘it is c-u< Ito make her play. She looks fit to faint 1’

Ella was taken to the piano. Before she had well sat down she had dashed into her piece. Oh Iso fast! Oh Iso frenzied ! Tho loud pedal pressed down by her nervous little foot tho whole time. Scramble! Scramble ! Dash ! Dish 1 My teeth are set, and I feel my face flush, as I watch her pained, frowning countenance, across wbioh a sharp spasm shoots when s me more than usually shocking chord Is struck. She has got to the foot of the first page, and things grow worse instead of better. Her faca is deathly white. A variation begins. Off goes the right hand with a run. The left tries to follow—tho run has broken down 1 Hurriedly she attempts it again ; faster this time. It has brekon down again—in an earlier stage 1 She looks wildly at the audience, more wildly at the gentleman who is ‘turning’ for her. dashes both her hands down on an excrciaticg chord, and then, rising from her seat, she puts her fingers in her ears, and darts from the platform. I never could make out why she put her fingers in her ears, unless to shut out imaginary hisses. Certain it is she had no real ones to fear. The audience tried to coax her back by hearty and prolonged applause. But on Mrs Smallwood hurrying it to tho ante room, poor Ella was found dissolved in tears, so there was an end of her performances for the evening. Old Biddleoombe was the next performer, and he certainly did not lack nerve, it he did lack musical ability. There tho old gentleman steed, bowing away and smiling In response to tho clapping of hands that greeted such a remarkable figm e. It was a comic song he sang; but, through the first verse, either from tho broken indieslnct articulation, or natural obtuaeness on the part of his audienca, it was listened to as solemnly as if it had been a recitative from one of the oratories. At the end of the first verse, therefore, he signed to Hardwlcke, who was accompanying him, to step for a moment, and broke out with, • Ladies and gentlemen, I beg to inform you that this is a comic song 1 Von did not seem aware of Iho fact, or perhaps you were afraid I might not like too much laughter Don't be frightened of that! If you laugh all through it, I shnn’t be offended 1’ Mrs Smallwood turned scarlet, and read her programme with deep interest ; tho good lady was terribly ashamed of her irrepressible relative, and the audience, complying with his request full early, broke at once Into loud laughter, which lasted through the rest of the song, and was doubtless more at tho linger than what ho sang. For, what with his speech, his appearance, and tho anti quated over-done ‘ comedy business ’ ho introduced as tho song progrea-ed. it was a difficult matter to keep one’s cachincationo within reasonable bounds, and the old fellow ended in a roar that might have been heard a mile off He went away beaming and triumphant to receive the congratulations of the poor souls in tho aute-rcom.

Then oame forward Mr Wells and his violin. It was unfortunate for this gentleman that he came btforean anhlenco worked into a laughing humor, and that he had a trick of making what the children c ill • fares’ os he played. At each fresh bar Mr Wella performed tome new and weird grimace, and as regularly did a low murmur of merriment undulate through the rorm At last, becoming aware of this, when not (ini'o half-way through his solo, poor Mr Wells stopped in a lluny, glanced nervous y downwards to see if in his p e occupation ho bad put on any unusual article of dress, looked at the audience, coloring painfully, tried to resume his playing, failed, tried again, grew very white, bowed low, and scuttled off the platform, whether no amount of cheering and encou r agement could entice him back, Fred Hardwioke’s sonata followed, and went in first rate sty le. Fred vanished alter it, amid the bravos from all parts, acd I smiled to think of what must be Sutton’s feelings. The next item was “ The Thunderstorm —Galop di Bravura.’ ‘ Here comes a treat,’ said I, for 1 admired the duet greatly. The two young men ascended the platform. Fred having established himself a favorite, was greeted with quite a ‘ reception.’ Sutton looked awfully jealous—indeed, downright savage. They took their seats, and I saw that odious little Sutton squiring his elbows and taking up quite three quarters of the key board, there was an audible scuffling of two feet in the vicinity of the pedals, so that buttle was evidently being fought over afresh. Presently they startad, after fierca whispers and glaring on the part of the bats performer. Fred had a perceptible ami e playing about his face. ‘The Thunderstorm’ raged on furiously for several pages, and Fred was doing wonders in tho treble in imitation of the I'ghtning and hail, when the scuffling of feet began again worse than ever—and presently Snt'ou sudden’y caused playing, and, scarlet in the face, turned upon Fred. ‘ I tell you I will have tho padsls when I want them 1’ he screamed ; ‘you shan’t bully me like this 1’

Fred, taken by surprise, left off p’aying too, and a loud laugh broke from the audience, I have not the least doubt that the little creature did this out of jealousy, to spoil the effect of the duet, in which Hardwicke was playing brilliantly. And he certainly succeeded; for the break marred the whole thing, and when they did t-ike it up again Fred’s playing was not so good as It hud been, 'this ended the first part of tho concert. The second part, 1 rejoice to say, was decidedly better j for the performers, though still doing some queer thing", were more at their ease. At eleven o’clock It was over, and the audience was set free, I heard one lady say to her friend as she went out, 4 it’s been as good as the theatre. I’ve seen few comedies that have mode me laugh so much 1’ And this, I believe, was the general opinion in tho neighborhood regarding Mi a Smallwood’s ooncart. In one respect It succeeded. A good deal of money was made and handed over to Dr. Blount for the poor, resulting in blankets, coal and soup. Edward Sutton went back to town next day, with a carpet-bag In his hind and a hideous scowl on bis face, Hardwicke tells me that he has since been out dead in London by the jealous little mortal. Ella Dean was ill with nervous headache for nearly a week after the terrible night The Misses Markham managed to survive, with health and tempera unimpaired ; but whenever I mention our amateur cmcert to them they are sure to lock at each other with large, horrified eyes, and say, in a tone of deep feeling, ‘Oh! wasn’t it awful!’

Mrs Smallwood has decided never to get up another amateur concert, ‘After all,’ she says, musingly, * professional do that kind of thing best!’