On looking over the bill, I found that the performers had a peculiar way of recommending themselves to the notice of the higher classes of Americans. In the first place, all of them were professors, members of different philharmonic societies in Europe, whose favourite airs, duettos, concerts, &c. had met with universal applause in London, Paris, and St. Petersburg. Then they were all composers; the bill expressly announcing a favourite air from “La Gazza Ladra,” arranged by Professor ***; duetto from “Gli Italiani in Algieri,” with variations by Mr. ***, Professor of the Royal Conservatory of ***; &c. A Spaniard even went so far as to give notice that a grand rondo, originally composed for the violin by Mayseder, would be performed with variations by Professor ***, late first flute-player to his Majesty the ex-Emperor of Brazil.
I communicated to my friend my astonishment at the fashionable people of America being so easily duped by high-sounding titles, which in Europe would at once stamp a man as a charlatan or a village performer; but was assured that this was the regular way of proceeding in all the Atlantic cities, the judgment of the higher classes in matters of taste confirming, without a single exception, the verdict pronounced by the connoisseurs of Europe.
“You will,” he said, “to-night hear the voice of a woman who in England would at best be considered a tolerable good ballad-singer for a provincial theatre, but you will witness the storm of applause with which she will be received here. It is such a fine opportunity for all who have taste, to show their superiority over those who have not had an opportunity of improving themselves in Europe. This songstress, moreover, is introduced to some of our first people, who will collect here to-night, and by their significant nods and half-subdued ‘bravos’ induce the multitude to the clapping of hands. Our leading citizens think themselves bound by hospitality to applaud an English cantatrice: for which reason the second, third, and fourth rows of benches are occupied by tout ce qu’il y a de mieux,—that is by tout ce qui a de cent à cinq cents mille écus; the first benches being declined by all, either from modesty, or from fear of making themselves too conspicuous before the public.
“An American aristocrat, you must know,” continued my cicerone, “is a gentleman of very nice feelings, who, while he is most anxious to avoid notoriety among the people, in order to avoid public censure, is at the same time particularly solicitous to push himself forward in his coterie, in order by his social standing to make up for the injustice of politics.”
“I presume,” said I, “most of the gentlemen on the forward benches are merchants?”
“Let me see,” he said, standing on tiptoe. “They are mostly merchants; but I also discover two lawyers, and a fashionable clergyman. There is, however, not a man amongst them worth less than one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Pray, is a rich man here supposed to understand something about music?” demanded I.
“Most assuredly he is,” replied he. “You will always find the richest men give the first sign of approbation, after which the minor fortunes venture to signalize theirs. Our society is so small that every man in it is known; so that no individual can be guilty of a breach of etiquette without having at once the whole clique against him. There is more social tyranny in this place than you could find anywhere in Europe. Every principle of morals, politics, or religion is set up as an article of faith; our infallible moneyed men proclaiming in their counting-rooms, and on ’change, the Popish doctrine Nulla salus extra ecclesiam Catholicam.”
While we were thus discussing la haute société of Boston, Mrs. ***, from London, made her appearance, and—her morality being endorsed by three responsible merchants—was received with thundering applause; the Honourable Mr. *** giving, as drum-major, the signal with a beautiful cane, which was immediately answered by “the middling interests” in the centre, and at last echoed by the mechanics, perched up in the rear. Mrs. *** courtesied. Renewed applause; during which she, at last, opened her cherub lips, and, with a great deal of common sense,—that is, without any of the coquetry of a French actress, or the agaceries of an Italian prima donna,—sang off two or three verses of one of those English ballads which sound so prettily in a private parlour, and so badly in a large concert-room. The worst of it was, that instead of the simple melody, which in most English or German compositions is exceedingly touching, she endeavoured to show her school, and the scope of her voice, by introducing variations, which were duly acknowledged by the people to whom she had been recommended. The ladies, especially, seemed not so much to admire her voice, as her modesty in not looking once from the music on the fashionable young men whose eyes were fastened upon her.
English women, being fine and tall, charm sufficiently by their placid beauty, and a certain laisser aller which they carry off admirably. French and Italian women, on the contrary, are, as a race, far less handsome, but considerably more piquantes. Ces sont des femmes caressantes. An English woman is made to be wooed; a French one entices you by a thousand little trifles, which it is the study of her life to practise with success. One is, perhaps, truly amiable; the other interests you by her very peevishness. The fair songstress seemed to be amiable in the English fashion, for she was all good nature—the usual concomitant of a certain embonpoint and smiled continually—on her music-book.