When it ceased, she said, "Do you approve that, my friend?""If it pleases you, madam," replied the wary Ashmead.
"It does more than please me; it does me good.""That reconciles me to it at once."
"Oh, then you do not admire it for itself.""Not--very--much."
"Pray, speak plainly. I am not a tyrant, to impose my tastes.""Well then, madam, I feel very grateful to anything that does you good:
otherwise, I should say the music was--rather dreary; and the singing--very insipid."The open struggle between Joseph's honesty and his awe of the Klosking tickled Vizard so that he leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.
The Klosking smiled superior. "He means," said she, "that the music is not operatic, and the boys do not clasp their hands, and shake their shoulders, and sing passionately, as women do in a theater. Heaven forbid they should! If this world is all passion, there is another which is all peace; and these boys' sweet, artless tones are the nearest thing we shall get in this world to the unimpassioned voices of the angels. They are fit instruments for pious words set by composers, who, however obscure they may be, were men inspired, and have written immortal strains, which, as I hear them, seem hardly of this world--they are so free from all mortal dross."Vizard assented warmly. Ashmead asked permission to hear another. They sung the "Magnificat" by King, in F.
"Upon my word," said Ashmead, "there is a deal of 'go' in that."Then they sung the "Nuno Dimittis." He said, a little dryly, there was plenty of repose in that.
"My friend," said she, "there is--to the honor of the composer: the 'Magnificat' is the bright and lofty exultation of a young woman who has borne the Messiah, and does not foresee His sufferings, only the boon to the world and the glory to herself. But the 'Dimittis' is the very opposite. It is a gentle joy, and the world contentedly resigned by a good old man, fatigued, who has run his race, and longs to sleep after life's fever. When next you have the good fortune to hear that song, think you see the sun descending red and calm after a day of storms, and an aged Christian saying, 'Good-night,' and you will honor poor dead King as I do. The music that truly reflects great words was never yet small music, write it who may.""You are right, madam." said Ashmead. "When I doubted its being good music, I suppose I meant salable.""Ah, _voil'a!"_ said the Klosking. Then, turning to Vizard for sympathy, "What this faithful friend understands by good music is music that can be sold for a good deal of money.""That is so," said Ashmead, stoutly. "I am a theatrical agent. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. You have tried it more than once, you know, but it would not work."Ashmead amused Vizard, and he took him into his study, and had some more conversation with him. He even asked him to stay in the house; but Ashmead was shy, and there was a theater at Taddington. So he said he had a good deal of business to do; he had better make the "Swan" his headquarters. "I shall be at your service all the same, sir, or Mademoiselle Klosking's.""Have a glass of Madeira, Mr. Ashmead."