Life — August 1, 1895 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

> LIFE: THE SOIREE MUSICALE. Witex appendicitis had fixed the social stand- ing of the Giltedges. that distinguished social foes demon- strated that music hath dethroned surgery == by exhibiting long- haired fiddles and whistling virtuosi, Mrs. Giltedge knew that something socially overwhelming had to be done. She sent for Quillby, of the Gazette, and tremulously ex- plained the critical situation, Quillby was from Paris. (Maine) ; he affected a literary air, studied Debrett, madg specialty of four o'clock teas, coming-out functions, menus, musicales, germans, and all other branches of social science, and was retained, swb-rosa, as press agent and social coun- sellor of the new climbers of the golden stairs. “My dear madam,” said Quillby, blandly, “ have no un- easiness whatever. Knowledge of music is unnecessary for musicales ; like golf, Ibsen and slumming, it is a fad, some- thing we pretend to have an interest in. Knowledge used to be power; cash has superseded it. The people of our set really know nothing of music. They never go to vulgar affairs where there is real music to which the lower classes are admitted ; we only appear at musical functions at the houses of correct people. The musicale is simply a gathering of dear friends and foes who talk to and about each other ; the music and musicians, like the luncheon, are mere inci- dentals, You wish to give a musicale. Very well! Open your house, fill it with flowers, provide a luncheon, invite your friends; I'll do the rest. If Miss Gladys and Miss Penelope will fresco their small talk with scherzos, opuses, fugues and that sort of thing, and affect a bored familiarity with Bach, Beethoven, Schumann, and those kind of fellows, your social supremacy is secure. Wagner (call him Vogner) is very good form; nobody understands him, so you're safe to say anything. Paderewski has set the mode for capillary attractions, so I will secure you a long-haired freak I have my eye on.” Mrs. Giltedge breathed freely when he finished and fixed an evening when she would pack Giltedge off to the club and paralyze the neighborhood. Quillby had a friend, John Bangster, whose passion for music had made him an object of pity and contempt in the refined circles of Paris (Maine). He fled to Europe, became a highly developed piano nuisance, returned to America, avoided Paris, and settled down to starve artistically as a music teacher. Quillby now saw a chance to rescue Bang- ster from his hideous fate and hunted him down. A MOTION IN HER MIND. “WHEN HE WENT ABROAD HE TH! “Gracious! WHAT A PASSAGE!” P HIS ENTIRE BUSINESS.” “ Bangster,” he remarked. life. I'll announce you as the favorite pupil of Liszt; it’s the regular thing. I'll square Fitzgall of the P/anet, and suggest that you have been tutor to the Grand Duke of Lagerstein; you catch the idea? Your name must be changed, it’s too American. Bangster is all right down East, but it won't go here. How does Herr Ivan Banagski of Lithuania, hit you?” “But, my dear fellow,” expostulated Bangster, “look at my hair and beard and my clothes. It's out of the question.” “ Bangster,” retorted Quillby amiably, “don’t be an a Here's a dress suit from Isaacs. Society as I know it couldn't tell a sonata from a bale of cotton. Your hair is all right. In giving a musicale the rule is, first catch your hair. Musical Sampsons are a /a mode. Wear glasses, be original or ill-bred—the terms are synonymous in our set—and you'll make a hit.” “Here's the chance of your comicbooks.com