As they turned over their music-books, Alfred, for some minutes, heard only the names of La Tour, Winter, Von Esch, Lanza, Portogallo, Mortellari, Guglielmi, Sacchini, Sarti, Paisiello, pronounced by male and female voices in various tones of ecstasy and of execration. Then there was an eager search for certain favourite duets, trios, and sets of cavatinas. Next he heard, in rapid succession, the names of Tenducci, Pachierotti, Marchesi, Viganoni, Braham, Gabrielli, Mara, Banti, Grassini, Billington, Catalani. Imagine our young barrister’s sense of his profound ignorance, whilst he heard the merits of all dead and living composers, singers, and masters, decided upon by the Miss Falconers. By degrees he began to see a little through the palpable obscure, by which he had at first felt himself surrounded: he discerned that he was in a committee of the particular friends of the Miss Falconers, who were settling what they should sing and play. All, of course, were flattering the Miss Falconers, and abusing their absent friends, those especially who were expected to bear a part in this concert; for instance—“Those two eternal Miss Byngs, with voices, like cracked bells, and with their old-fashioned music, Handel, Corelli, and Pergolese, horrid!—And odious little Miss Crotch, who has science but no taste, execution but no expression!” Here they talked a vast deal about expression. Alfred did not understand them, and doubted whether they understood themselves. “Then her voice! how people can call it fine!—powerful, if you will—but overpowering! For my part, I can’t stand it, can you?—Every body knows an artificial shake, when good, is far superior to a natural shake. As to the Miss Barhams, the eldest has no more ear than the table, and the youngest such a thread of a voice!”
“But, mamma,” interrupted Miss Georgiana Falconer, “are the Miss La Grandes to be here to-night?”
“Certainly, my dear—you know I could not avoid asking the Miss La Grandes.”
“Then, positively,” cried Miss Georgiana, her whole face changing, and ill-humour swelling in every feature, “then, positively, ma’am, I can’t and won’t sing a note!”
“Why, my dear love,” said Mrs. Falconer, “surely you don’t pretend to be afraid of the Miss La Grandes?”
“You!” cried one of the chorus of flatterers—“You! to whom the La Grandes are no more to be compared—”
“Not but that they certainly sing finely, I am told,” said Mrs. Falconer; “yet I can’t say I like their style of singing—and knowledge of music, you know, they don’t pretend to.”
“Why, that’s true,” said Miss Georgiana; “but still, somehow, I can never bring out my voice before those girls. If I have any voice at all, it is in the lower part, and Miss La Grande always chooses the lower part—besides, ma’am, you know she regularly takes ‘O Giove omnipotente’ from me. But I should not mind that even, if she would not attempt poor ‘Quanto O quanto è amor possente’—there’s no standing that! Now, really, to hear that so spoiled by Miss La Grande—”
“Hush! my dear,” said Mrs. Falconer, just as Mrs. La Grande appeared—“Oh! my good Mrs. La Grande, how kind is this of you to come to me with your poor head! And Miss La Grande and Miss Eliza! We are so much obliged to you, for you know that we could not have done without you.”
The Miss La Grandes were soon followed by the Miss Barhams and Miss Crotch, and they were all “so good, and so kind, and such dear creatures.” But after the first forced compliments, silence and reserve spread among the young ladies of the Miss Falconers’ party. It was evident that the fair professors were mutually afraid and envious of each other, and there was little prospect of harmony of temper. At length the gentlemen arrived. Count Altenberg appeared, and came up to pay his compliments to the Miss Falconers: as he had not been behind the scenes, all was charming illusion to his eyes. No one could appear more good-humoured, agreeable, and amiable than Miss Georgiana; she was in delightful spirits, well dressed, and admirably supported by her mother. The concert began. But who can describe the anxiety of the rival mothers, each in agonies to have their daughters brought forward and exhibited to the best advantage! Some grew pale, some red—all, according to their different powers of self-command and address, endeavoured to conceal their feelings. Mrs. Falconer now shone superior in ease inimitable. She appeared absolutely unconcerned for her own daughter, quite intent upon bringing into notice the talents of the Miss Barhams, Miss Crotch, the Miss La Grandes, &c.