The transformation, at once artistic and scientific, with which the Prince Consort as the past representative of the Crown, and his descendents as its present representatives, will always be chiefly associated, remains to be glanced at. One need not have reached middle age to be able to realize the revolution in the English capacity for the enjoyment as well as for the performance of music, vocal or instrumental, that has taken place since the Victorian age began. A dowdily dressed young woman, alighting from an omnibus at the street corner, trailing after her a fragment of the straw that littered the floor of her conveyance; her clothes, what was then called shabby genteel. She carried under her arm a roll of papers or a portfolio; she was insolently eyed by the servant who opened the door of the house in Portland Place at which she timidly knocked, and contemptuously motioned to take a seat in the hall until the drawing room was ready for the music lesson to be given to the young lady of the family. A hungry looking gentleman, of foreign aspect, and slightly French or German accent, also descended from an omnibus in the same quarter; he bore in his hand a black case which might be from its appearance a sarcophagus for a deceased cat, but which might be identified by more experienced observers as containing a fiddle. He was received by the servant at the front door not more ceremoniously than the instructress of a few hours earlier. This was the proprietor of a little orchestra which attended private dances. A few hours after he might be accompanying with his fiddle the wind instruments of his troupe, for Thackeray's Mrs Timmins gave that very night her little dance. If the musician played well, and pleased the head footman as well as the mistress of the house, he might as a special favour be invited downstairs to help the servants finish the cold chicken and the champagne heeltaps when the guests had gone.
To-day the lady who condescends to teach the art of pianoforte execution to the young people in a popular London quarter drives up to the house in her own victoria and would no more be kept waiting a minute for her appointment than if she were a duchess in her own right. The accomplished foreigner who plays the violin alights from a brougham drawn by a pair of thoroughbreds. If he is to be induced to honour a friend in Grosvenor Square with his company at dinner, the invitation must be given at least three weeks beforehand. The 'master' must choose his own fellow guests, and supervise the menu before it is finally decided on; the dinner itself must be so arranged that to a moment it will occupy the time which the great man prescribes. The conversation must be so contrived as to coruscate with epigram, and to fascinate with anecdotes all warranted to be new, lest the diner of the evening should have the slightest touch of boredom. If these conditions are not satisfied, this arbiter of taste may refuse to sit through the meal. He is the chartered libertine of the dining rooms and drawing rooms of the great.