March 7th. The King’s band of musicians was an imitation of the band of Louis XIV. In Evelyn’s Diary, dated 21st of December, 1662, is the following account of its first performance. This able and honest statesman and excellent naturalist possessed a fine taste for the arts, in which he took very considerable interest. He evidently felt very indignant at the musical innovation made by the heartless Charles, whose education was finished in the profligate French court, and thus expresses himself:—
‘One of his Majesty’s chaplains preached at the King’s Chapel, after which, instead of the ancient, grave, and solemn wind music accompanying the organ, was introduced a concert of twenty-four violins between every pause, after the French fantastical light way, better suiting a tavern or a play-house, than a church. This was the first time of change, and now we no more heard the cornet which gave life to the organ, that instrument quite left off, in which the English were so skilful. I dined at Mr. Povey’s, where I talked with Cromer, a great musician.’
—This morning Mr. Guynemer gave—(literally gave, for profit was not his object)—a ‘Matinée Musicale’ at the Opera Concert Room, chiefly for the purpose of performing some selections from a Mass recently composed by him. He, of course, had a very full audience, among whom were the most distinguished amateurs and professors at present in London. The Mass, or at least such of it as was introduced, possesses considerable claims to notice; and if it does not show much fancy, much original conception, proves the author to be a man of knowledge and taste. His band was select, and led by Messrs. Spagnoletti and Mori; himself and Mr. Novello acting as conductors.
10th. A weekly paper, in whose well-delivered musical opinions I generally concur, has attacked in rather strong language the first Ancient Concert of this season, and in pretty plain terms accused the directors of imitating the new Vocal Concert, by the introduction of madrigals. Surely the writer has not carefully looked over the books of the Ancient Concert, or made himself acquainted with the fact that, at its very first institution, nearly sixty years ago, madrigals were among its most important features, and have, more or less often, continued to be performed up to the present time. I myself heard two of them last season, though not present at more than three or four of the concerts. The efforts made by the Madrigal Society during late years have slowly, but surely, drawn attention to this fine species of music, and the Vocal Concert happily seized the moment for bringing it before a larger and more mixed audience, and certainly in a very inviting form; but let not the Ancient Concert, the finest school in Europe for the music of the great old masters, and which has preserved the best models from being trampled into dust—which has stood for years as the bulwark against the whims of fashion, and steadily resisted the greedy appetite for whatever is new, however contemptible—let not this be abused as the servile imitator of an infant establishment which has only re-produced compositions that have been heard by three generations at a concert to which—though often mismanaged, and too frequently a sufferer from prejudice—our country is so much indebted for its musical taste, and on which, I am persuaded, the preservation of good music in England yet so mainly depends.
16th. We are certainly to be honoured by another visit from Signor Paganini after Easter, as I last year predicted; though the French papers, and of course the English, stated positively, that he had resolved to appear in public no more, but had ‘determined to retire and enjoy otium cum dignitate.’ It was to me a matter of certainty, demonstrable upon moral principles, that while any thing is to be got in this country, the hero of one string will be drawn to our shores by metallic attraction. Of his continued success, however, I have my doubts; the fit was on the decline last season; our senses are beginning to return: but if reason should not influence us, the state of the country will. It is really ‘too bad’ to be lavishing thousands, tens of thousands, upon a foreigner, who is more admired for his tricks than for his real excellences, while many of our best performers—some of whom are more than his equal in the legitimate use of the instrument—are neglected, and suffering from want of protection.
20th. Every letter from Italy, coming from any source to be relied on, concurs in stating, that music is at the lowest ebb in that country: from the northern to the southern extremity, from Milan to Naples, nothing new is brought forward but the vilest trash, and even Rossini is no longer the idol. This, however, ought not to excite surprise, considering how unmercifully he has been hacked. It seems that, after Easter, we are to have thrust down our throats,—or rather crammed into our ears—Bellini’s Norma, and also Beatrice Tenda, both, it is said, the feeblest of modern weaknesses, the first especially, which all but Italians agree in admitting to be the veriest rubbish that ever disgraced the lyric stage. We are also to have the Montecchi e Capuletti of the same composer, which I can, from my own knowledge, say, is as wretched stuff as any that our Italian theatre has produced during the last five or six years. I cannot say more.