CHAPTER I.

_Early Efforts of our Hero’s Genius._

John’s attachment to the harp of David Williams inspired him with a desire for being taught a few easy tunes by so great a master. In this ambition he was warmly encouraged by his grandfather, who considered it as the unequivocal characteristic of a true De Lancaster, and boldly predicted that he would rapidly advance to hereditary celebrity on that ancient and noble instrument.

Upon this occasion we should have been sorry if De Lancaster had failed to recollect, that both Hercules and Alexander condescended to take lessons on the harp, tho’ the former broke his masters head with his own instrument, and the latter insisted upon his privilege of striking the wrong string, whenever it suited him better than the right. Robert therefore found it necessary to caution his grandson against copying those boisterous scholars, and strictly enjoined him to give close attention to the instructions of his master, after the example of the Cretan youths, who were universally educated in music, and remarkably obedient to their teachers.

John accordingly sate down with eagerness for the undertaking, and in point of diligence few Cretans could have exceeded him; but when unexpected difficulties began to stare him in the face, and every lesson seemed to increase those difficulties, his ardour cooled and despair possessed him wholly. David Williams at length pronounced _ex cathedrâ_, that his pupil had positively no genius for the instrument; the case was hopeless, and the harp was laid aside.

I am sorry for it, said the grandfather, but I am myself no performer on the harp, though a lover of its melody, and sure I am that no man can possess a spirit prepared to meet the vicissitudes of fortune with equanimity and calmness, unless his passions have been disciplined by music. Let the boy’s genius therefore be watched, and, if it points to any other instrument, indulge him.

Shortly after the promulgation of this edict the musical propensities of the discarded harper began to shew themselves in a very different character, and he now conceived a passion for performing on the trumpet.

Be it so! said the grandfather; it proves at least his spirit has a martial cast.

Colonel Wilson was now returned, and heard with infinite delight the story of the dead soldier, told by Cecilia so greatly to the credit of his darling boy John; but when his friend De Lancaster told him with an air of triumph of his reigning passion for the trumpet, he treated it as a jest, and ridiculed the idea. Disappointed by this reception, and somewhat piqued, De Lancaster was determined to stand to his defences, and that Wilson, who had arraigned the trumpet, should be doomed to hear the trumpet’s advocate.

Sir, said he, you will permit me to remind you, that the trumpet is an ancient and a venerable instrument. If it be said that the walls of the city of Thebes were raised by the lute of Amphion, we have better authority for believing that the walls of Jericho were thrown down by the trumpets of the Israelitish Priests.

I hope, replied Wilson, the trumpet of my friend John will not be quite so efficacious. If the castle tumbles down with the blast, we may chance to be buried in its ruins.

Wilson had better have left this skit alone, for his friend was at no time guilty of giving his hearers too little information, and he was just now put upon his mettle to discuss the merits of the insulted trumpet under its three denominations according to the respective characters, in which the ancients employed, and have described it. The first of these, he told him, was the _tuba_, or straight trumpet, properly so called: the second was the _lituus_, or shrill-toned trumpet, curved at the extremity: the third and last the _cornuus_, or deep-toned horn, of natural conformation, curved throughout: of these the chief was the _tuba_ first named, which he informed him was unknown to the Greeks, though not to Homer, who did not employ it in his battles, knowing it was not then in use.

He was right in not doing so, said Wilson; but if he had done otherwise, I, for one, should never have found him out.

Whether Wilson imagined that his friend had done with his trumpets it is impossible to say, but it is very easy to believe that he was not aware how many he had in petto, for he seemed astonished when given to understand, that there were not less than six different sorts of the tuba, as classed by Eustathius into that of the Athenians, invented by Minerva; the Egyptian trumpet, contrived by Osiris, and employed in their sacrifices; the trumpet of the Gauls, with a peculiar mouthpiece, of a shrill tone, and by them called Carynx; the Paphlagonian trumpet, mouthed like a bull and very deep-toned; that of the Medes, blown with a reed, also of a deep tone, and lastly, the Tyrrhenian trumpet, extremely acute and high-pitched in conformity to which it is supposed the Romans modelled their’s.

Scarcely was this edifying dissertation finished, when the hall resounded with a blast, loud enough, it should seem, to shake its aged banners into tatters: Wilson hastened to the scene of action, and found his friend John under the tuition not of any of the great masters above-mentioned, but of a puppet-show man, who travelled the country, and recommended himself by the strength, rather than by the sweetness, of his tones. This gentleman, who had just recruited his lungs with an emollient dose of sweet Welch ale, blew with might and main in return for the hospitality he had received, and doubtless for the honour of the corps he belonged to. The Goddess Fame never gave a louder crack for the best favourite she had, though he were standing at her back, and, like the bellows-blower of an organ, had pumped breath into her lungs to let the people hear his own good deeds. The performer, who was an adept in more arts than one, had just then played a somerset, to the great delight of his pupil John, and was standing on his hands with his heels erect in the air, when Mrs. Elizabeth Wood entering the hall, and seeing a pair of human legs in an attitude so totally irreconcileable to her idea of the proper place, which human legs ought to hold in society, uttered, as in duty bound, a most violent scream, and in the same breath announced an order for silencing that horrid trumpet; it had nearly thrown her lady into fits. That ancient and venerable instrument, (so called by Mr. De Lancaster) was accordingly for ever laid aside, and Scaramouch was fain to make his retreat without sound of trumpet; but as he could tumble, conjure and shew tricks, that would give no offence to the nervous system of the lady above stairs, it is probable that both the ladies and gentlemen below stairs suffered him to entertain them before he left the castle; and as he very politely invited them to be present at the opening of his theatre in the village, when Punch and his company would present them with the entertaining interlude of the Rape of the Sabines, with appropriate screamings by the ladies concerned in the representation, it is presumed, that not a few of them were prevailed upon to be present at that interesting exhibition.

The shock, that Mrs. De Lancaster had received, was by no means feigned. She had now become a confirmed hypochondriac, and great alarm was sounded forth by Mr. Llewellyn of an approaching decay, that he endeavoured to stem by an unceasing course of medicines, which if they had suited her case, were certainly not sparingly administered; but, as she regularly grew worse and worse, it occasioned some to doubt whether they had even the merit of being innocently neutral.

Thus ended the second abortive effort of our hero’s genius in the musical department. Not totally discouraged, but cautious of annoying his unhappy mother, he now betook himself to the humble Jew’s-harp, whose sibilous strains by long practice and unwearied assiduity he so contrived to modulate and diversify, as obtained for him the reputation, amongst the servants at least, of executing some of the familiar Welch airs in a style, that seemed the very echo of David Williams’s harp.

For this small accomplishment he was indebted to his genius only: There were however other arts, in which he exercised himself under tuition. By the favour of the gamekeeper he became an expert shooter at a mark, and, since Colonel Wilson had returned, he put himself under the command of his servant, a disabled veteran, who taught him to perform all the motions of the manual and platoon so correctly, that the effects of this discipline soon became conspicuous in the firmness of his step, and the uprightness of his carriage.

When report was made to De Lancaster of his grandson’s wonderful performances on the Jew’s-harp, he expressed more joy on the occasion than the meanness of the instrument seemed to merit, and immediately signified his pleasure, that the young minstrel should be summoned to the dinner-room, where he was then sitting with Colonel Wilson, and at the same time ordered the servant to bring the harp after him, for that he would himself witness his performance.

When the servant had gone out to find the performer, the old gentleman intimated to Wilson, that he hoped he would have his harp put in order before he brought it with him, as he did not greatly relish the ceremony of tuning--I confess, added he, I am curious to see the construction of this Jewish harp; though I dare say it is the harp with crooked arms, described by Hyginus, and played upon with the plectrum, which I am bold to affirm was the practice of king David.

To all this Wilson maliciously made no other reply, but that he believed the harp had crooked arms.--I was sure of it, said De Lancaster. Upon the word, young John came in, and being asked where his harp was, immediately applied it to his lips, and began to twang it in his very best manner. In the name of wonder, exclaimed De Lancaster, what is the boy about? Is he playing on the plectrum? No, cried he, I am going to give you Shenkin.

He went on, and the grandfather heard him out, charmed into silence by the novelty and ingenuity of the performance. When he had played the air, which he did with great correctness of imitation, in the style of David Williams, the old gentleman, turning to him with a smile, said--Well, my good boy, you have done your part, and though your harp, I confess, has disappointed me, your art has made up for it. This is the first time I ever knew the harp was a wind instrument, and if the Jews have the credit of inventing your machine, you have the credit of making music out of it. Then, addressing himself to Colonel Wilson, he observed, that the exact manner, in which he had imitated the style of David Williams, brought to his recollection Ælian’s anecdote of the famous Polygnotus of Thasos, whose magnificent paintings were so correctly copied in miniature by Dionysius of Colophon, as to preserve the whole spirit and excellence of the original in all its due proportions, though upon the smallest scale. Having examined the Jew’s harp, he observed, that this was one more instrument than he had ever seen, or heard of before, and asked who taught him. Upon his replying that he had taught himself, he turned to Wilson with an air of triumph, and said--This proves what I have always maintained, that nature is the best instructress.

In some things perhaps, said the Colonel. I presume, not in all.

I am not sure, said De Lancaster, that exception should be made of any. John had a master for the harp: he made nothing of it: he takes up that paltry scrap of iron, and makes admirable music. Such is the difference betwixt the natural emanations of genius, and the laboured efforts, that are extorted from the pupil by the lessons of a teacher.

John, who probably foresaw something coming forward, which he was not interested to partake of, now stept up to his grandfather, and asked leave to ride over to Glen-Morgan, and pass a day there.--Why to pass a day?--Because he would go over to Denbigh, and execute a little commission, which the poor soldier on his death-bed had requested him to fulfil.--Of what nature was that commission?--Simply to deliver a little token to the daughter of Captain Jones, which that officer had entrusted to the care of his faithful servant the soldier, but which the poor fellow did not live to execute.--What was the little token he was to carry?--Pray, don’t ask me that, said the youth, and above all things don’t let my mother know a word about the matter. It would be very much to the honour of the poor soldier, if I told you all; but I hope you won’t require me to do that.--On no account, replied De Lancaster, will I make any such demand upon you. If you will take my coach, ’tis at your service; if you had rather ride, let Ben the groom attend you, and give your orders accordingly.

John took the hand of his grandfather, kissed it, nodded with a smile to the colonel, and hastened out of the room.

You have a treasure in that noble boy, said Wilson; but I hope, my good friend, he will not be suffered to go on any longer without education, because he can play upon the Jew’s-harp without a master. Don’t be offended with me, if I seem to step out of my office, when I speak to one of your great knowledge in the learned languages, but I presume you hardly can expect your grandson to understand Greek and Latin, unless he has a teacher.

Perhaps not, replied De Lancaster; yet, if it were so to happen, it would not be the first wonder of the sort, that hath come to pass. It is well known what prodigies of learning have started up into notice, even in their infant years, and possessed themselves of arts, sciences and languages, without being ever put into the trammels of a teacher.

Indeed! cried the colonel.

Assuredly, replied the assertor, though it may not have fallen in your way to be certified of the fact. I could, if necessary, adduce a host of witnesses to attest the wonders, that have been effected by the human genius, unassisted with instruction; but as your profession, Colonel Wilson, has probably occupied too much of your attention to allow of your turning your thoughts to enquiries of this cast, the things I might relate of Lipsius, of Quirino, Alphonsus Tostatus and many others of equal celebrity might appear to you incredible.

Very likely, interjected the colonel.

Yet are they, every one, supported by irrefragable authorities. The mind of man, my friend, is in itself a miracle, and persons, who have been predestined to extraordinary occasions, have been born under extraordinary circumstances, as was the case with Luther, who, whilst he was yet an infant at the breast, maintained a Latin thesis against the Pope’s infallibility, which gave rise to the saying, that he sucked in controversy with his mother’s milk.

My very good and learned friend, said Wilson, that you have somewhere crossed upon this idle legend, amongst the boundless mass of books that you have consulted I am well persuaded; but that you will commit your excellent understanding by stating it in serious proof of the question we are upon I am loth to suppose. When I believe your account of Luther’s coming into the world with a square cap and gown, I will believe his thesis at the breast, and, when I believe that, I will not dispute the story of the prolific lady, who was delivered of three hundred and sixty-five children at a birth.

I dare say you will not dispute it, rejoined De Lancaster, when you hear the evidences for the truth of it. The prolific lady, you allude to, was the Countess Herman of Henneberg, daughter of Count Floris, Earl of Holland, Zealand and Friesland, and son of William of Holland, first of that name; Floris was treacherously slain by the old Earl of Clermont at a public triumph, and left behind him this daughter Margaret, who married the aforesaid Count Herman of Henneberg. She, despising the petition of a poor widow, who with twins at her breast asked charity, gave her very reproachful words withal; whereupon the widow, failing on her knees, appealed to Heaven in vindication of her innocency, and earnestly prayed, that as she had conceived and brought forth those two infants lawfully by her husband, even so, if ever that lady should be pregnant, she might be visited with as many children at a birth as there were days in the year. Not long after, the lady conceived, and went into Holland to visit the earl her brother, taking up her abode in the abbey of religious women at Leyden, where on the Friday before Palm Sunday in the year 1276 she was delivered of three hundred and sixty-five children, the one half being sons and the other daughters, but the odd babe was double-sexed. They were all baptised by Guydon, suffragan to the bishop of Utrecht, who named all the sons John, and the daughters Elizabeth, but what name he gave to the odd child, said De Lancaster with much gravity, I must own to you I do not find recorded.

John-Elizabeth for a certainty, said the Colonel. It may be so, resumed the narrator; but I hazard no conjectures, I only detail facts. They were however no sooner baptised than they all died, and the mother likewise. Their two baptismal basins are still preserved, and have been by me seen and examined in the said church at Leyden, together with the inscription on the Countess’s tomb in Latin and in Dutch, the former beginning thus--_Margareta, Comitis Hennebergiæ uxor, et Florentii Hollandiæ et Zelandiæ filia, &c. &c._ Underneath is the following distich, the first line of which has been some how or other curtailed of its proper metrical proportion, as you will perceive--

--_En tibi monstrosum et memorabile factum,_ _Quale nec a mundi conditione datum._

Here Robert De Lancaster, having closed his narrative, turned a look upon his friend, that seemed to appeal to him for his judgment on the case. The colonel made no reply, and it may be presumed that the appellant set down his silence to the score of his conviction.