James T. Lightwood

Summary

James T. Lightwood Charles Dickens and Music

Sounds of gruff voices practising vocal music invade the evening's silence, and the fumes of choice tobacco scent the air. There, snuff and cigars and German pipes and flutes, and violins and violoncellos, divide the supremacy between them. It is the region of song and smoke. Street bands are on their mettle in Golden Square, and itinerant glee singers quaver involuntarily as they raise their voices within its boundaries.
We have another picture in the description of Dombey's house, where—
the summer sun was never on the street but in the morning, about breakfast-time....
Source: Gutenberg

James T. Lightwood Charles Dickens and Music

The organ was so out of order that he could ‘hear more of the rusty working of the stops than of any music.’ When the service began he was so depressed that, as he says,
I gave but little heed to our dull manner of ambling through the service; to the brisk clerk's manner of encouraging us to try a note or two at psalm time; to the gallery congregation's manner of enjoying a shrill duet, without a notion of time or tune; to the whity-brown man's manner of shutting the minister into the pulpit, and being very particular with the lock of the door, as if he were a dangerous animal.
Source: Gutenberg

James T. Lightwood Charles Dickens and Music

One night a gentleman visitor insisted on singing ‘By the sad sea waves,’ which he did vilely, and he wound up his performance by a most unexpected and misplaced embellishment, or ‘turn.’ Dickens found the whole ordeal very trying, but managed to preserve a decorous silence till this sound fell on his ear, when his neighbour said to him, ‘Whatever did he mean by that extraneous effort of melody?’ ‘Oh,’ said Dickens, ‘that's quite in accordance with rule. When things are at their worst they always take a turn.’
Source: Gutenberg

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