Select Conversations with an Uncle (Now Extinct) and Two Other ReminiscencesWells, H. G. (Herbert George)
General
Select Conversations with an Uncle (Now Extinct) and Two Other Reminiscences
Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)
English wit and humor
"What _is_ music," said my uncle, after a moody silence, "that
reasonable people should listen to it? I _had_ to listen to it myself,
and it struck me. It was just a tune this little chap was trying to
remember, and now he would come at it this way and now that. He never
got it quite right, though he fumbled about it for ten minutes or a
quarter of an hour. And then two girls went, and one punished the
piano while the other, with a wrist rather than an ear for music,
drowned its cries with a violin. So it went on all the evening, and
when I moved they all looked at me; I had been put on a nervous wicker
chair, and I knew my shoes squeaked like a carnival of swine, and so I
could not get away. And all the things that kept coming into my head,
George, the neat remarks and graceful sayings!
"You see, I look at it in this light. Music is merely background, and
ought to be kept in its place. I am no enemy of music, George. The
air in a room should be melodious, for the same reason that it should
be faintly pleasing to the olfactory sense, and neither hot nor stuffy.
Just as the walls should be delightfully coloured and softly lit, and
the refreshments pleasant and at the moment of need. But surely we
meet for human intercourse. When I go to see people I go to see the
people--not to hear a hired boy play the piano. But these people plant
a _chevaux de frise_ of singers and performers upon instruments of
music between themselves and me. They gag me with a few pennyworths of
second-hand opera. There I was bursting to talk, and nice,
intelligent-looking girls to talk to, and whenever I began to say
something they said '_Sssh_!' Tantalus in a drawing-room it was--the
very Hades of hospitality.
"Surely some day we shall learn refinement in our entertaining. Your
modern hostess issues her invitations and seems overcome with
consternation at her gathering. 'What _shall_ I do with all these
people?' she seems to ask. So she dabs cakes upon them, piles coffee
cups over them: 'Eat,' she says, 'and shut up!' and stifles their
protests with a clamorous woman and a painful piano.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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