Chapter 27

I come now to notice one of the greatest artistes of our time--Herr Ernst--whose playing was impassioned in the highest degree. He made the Violin express his innermost thoughts in tones of delicious tenderness, such as his hearers can never forget. By nature noble, generous, and affectionate, the shade and substance of each trait was faithfully reflected in his exquisite playing. His compositions are among the finest solo writings we have. To mention his "Otello," "Airs Hongrois," "Le Prophete," and his "Studies," will be sufficient to call to the mind of most Violinists the high character of his compositions.

It now only remains for me to briefly allude to the German artists each Concert Season makes us familiar with. First and foremost, the mighty Herr Joachim, a host in himself. His able coadjutor, Herr Strauss, was justly admired for his intellectual rendering of the great masters, and the artistic spirit he invariably displayed. Herr Wilhelmj was regarded as one of the first players of our time, his executive powers being of the highest order.

SECTION XV Anecdotes and Miscellanea connected with the Violin

HUDIBRAS AND THE CHAMPION CROWDERO.

The important part played by the renowned Champion Crowdero in Butler's inimitable satire has never failed to give keen enjoyment to all lovers of wit and humour. This being so, his exploits should be doubly appreciated by the votaries of the Fiddle, since it was he who valiantly defended the cause of Fiddling against the attacks of Hudibras--

"When civil dudgeon first grew high, And men fell out, they knew not why; When hard words, jealousies, and fears Set folks together by the ears, And made them fight, like mad or drunk.

. . . . .

Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling, And out he rode a-colonelling."

The absurdities into which the genius of Cervantes hurried Don Quixote and Sancho served to moderate the extravagances of knight-errantry. The adventures of Hudibras and Ralpho, undertaken to extinguish the sports and pastimes of the people, aided greatly in staying the hand of fanaticism, which had suppressed all stage plays and interludes as "condemned by ancient heathens, and by no means to be tolerated among professors of the Christian religion."

With Crowdero we are taken back upwards of two centuries in the history of the Violin; from times wherein it is held in the highest esteem and admiration, to days when it was regarded with contempt and ridicule. Crowdero (so called from _crowd_, a Fiddle) was the fictitious name for one Jackson, a milliner, who lived in the New Exchange, in the Strand. He had served with the Roundheads, and lost a leg, which brought him into reduced circumstances, until he was obliged to Fiddle from one alehouse to another for his existence. Hudibras--

"On stirrup-side, he gaz'd about Portending blood, like blazing star, The beacon of approaching war.

. . . . .

Ralpho rode on, with no less speed Than Hugo in the forest did; But far more in returning made, For now the foe he had survey'd Rang'd, as to him they did appear, With van, main battle, wings, and rear. I' th' head of all this warlike rabble, Crowdero marched, expert and able. Instead of trumpet and of drum, That makes the warrior's stomach come, Whose noise whets valour sharp, like beer By thunder turn'd to vinegar; (For if a trumpet sound, or drum beat, Who has not a month's mind to combat?) A squeaking engine he apply'd Unto his neck on north-east side,[1] Just where the hangman does dispose, To special friends, the knot or noose; For 'tis great grace, when statesmen straight Dispatch a friend, let others wait. His warped ear hung o'er the strings, Which was but souse to chitterlings;[2] For guts, some write, ere they are sodden, Are fit for music, or for pudding;[3] From whence men borrow ev'ry kind Of minstrelsy, by string or wind. His grisly beard was long and thick, With which he strung his Fiddle-stick; For he to horse-tail scorned to owe For what on his own chin did grow.

. . . . .

And now the field of death, the lists, Were enter'd by antagonists, And blood was ready to be broach'd, When Hudibras in haste approach'd With Squire and weapons, to attack 'em; But first thus from his horse bespoke 'em, 'What rage, O citizens! What fury Doth you to these dire actions hurry?

. . . . .

In name of King and Parliament I charge ye all--no more foment.

. . . . .

... first surrender The Fiddler as the prime offender, Th' incendiary vile, that is chief Author and engineer of mischief; That makes division between friends For profane and malignant ends.[4] He and that engine of vile noise On which illegally he plays,[5] Shall (_dictum factum_) both be brought To condign punishment, as they ought.'

. . . . .

This said he clapped his hand on sword, To show he meant to keep his word.

. . . . .

He drew up all his force into One body and into one blow.

. . . . .

The Knight, with all its weight, fell down

. . . . .

Like a feather bed betwixt a wall And heavy brunt of cannon ball.

. . . . .

Crowdero only kept the field, Not stirring from the place he held; Though beaten down and wounded sore, I' th' Fiddle, and a leg that bore One side of him--not that of bone, But much its better, th' wooden one. He spying Hudibras lie strew'd Upon the ground, like log of wood,

. . . . .

In haste he snatch'd the wooden limb That, hurt in th' ankle, lay by him, And, fitting it for sudden fight, Straight drew it up, t' attack the Knight;

. . . . .

Vowing to be reveng'd, for breach Of Crowd and skin, upon the wretch,[6] Sole author of all detriment He and his Fiddle underwent.

. . . . .

When Ralpho thrust himself between, He took the blow upon his arm, To shield the Knight from further harm, And, joining wrath with force, bestow'd On th' wooden member such a load, That down it fell and with it bore Crowdero, whom it propp'd before. To him the Squire right nimbly run, And setting his bold foot upon His trunk, thus spoke: 'What desp'rate frenzy Made thee, thou whelp of sin, to fancy Thyself, and all that coward rabble, To encounter us in battle able? How durst th', I say, oppose thy curship 'Gainst, arms, authority, and worship, And Hudibras or me provoke,

. . . . .

... but first our care Must see how Hudibras doth fare.' This said, he gently rais'd the Knight,

. . . . .

To rouse him from lethargic dump, He tweak'd his nose with gentle thump, Knock'd on his breast, as if't had been To raise the spirits lodg'd within; They, waken'd with the noise, did fly From inward room to window eye, And gently op'ning lid, the casement, Look'd out, but yet with some amazement. This gladded Ralpho much to see, Who thus bespoke the Knight; quoth he, Tweaking his nose, 'You are, great sir, A self-denying conqueror; As high, victorious, and great As e'er fought for the churches yet.

. . . . .

... The foe, for dread Of your nine-worthiness, is fled; All, save Crowdero, for whose sake You did th' espous'd cause undertake; And he lies pris'ner at your feet, To be disposed as you think meet, Either for life, or death, or sale, The gallows, or perpetual jail; For one wink of your powerful eye Must sentence him to live or die; His Fiddle is your proper purchase, Won in the service of the Churches; And by your doom must be allow'd To be or be no more, a _Crowd_.'

. . . . .

... The Knight began to rouse, And by degrees grew valorous; He stared about, and seeing none Of all his foes remain, but one, He snatch'd his weapon that lay near him, And from the ground began to rear him, Vowing to make Crowdero pay For all the rest that ran away. But Ralpho now, in colder blood, His fury mildly thus withstood. 'Great sir,' quoth he, 'your mighty spirit Is raised too high; this slave doth merit To be the hangman's business sooner Than from your hand to have the honour Of his destruction; I, that am A nothingness in deed and name, Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase, Or ill entreat his Fiddle or case;

. . . . .

Will you employ your conq'ring sword To break a Fiddle, and your word?

. . . . .

... I think it better far To keep him prisoner of war.'

. . . . .

He liked the squire's advice, and soon Resolved to see the business done.

. . . . .

Ralpho dispatched with speedy haste, And having ty'd Crowdero fast, He gave Sir Knight the end of cord, To lead the captive of his sword.

. . . . .

The Squire in state rode on before, And on his nut-brown whinyard bore The Trophy-Fiddle, and the case Leaning on shoulder, like a mace.[7] The Knight himself did after ride, Leading Crowdero by his side, And tow'd him if he lagg'd behind, Like boat against the tide and wind. Thus grave and solemn they march on, Until quite thro' the town th' had gone, At further end of which there stands An ancient castle, that commands[8] Th' adjacent parts; in all the fabric You shall not see one stone nor a brick But all of wood, by powerful spell Of magic made impregnable.

. . . . .

Thither arriv'd, th' advent'rous Knight And bold Squire from their steeds alight At th' outward wall, near which there stands A bastile, built t' imprison hands;

. . . . .

On top of this there is a spire On which Sir Knight first bids the Squire The Fiddle, and its spoils, the case,[9] In manner of a trophy, place. That done, they ope the trapdoor gate, And let Crowdero down thereat; Crowdero making doleful face, Like hermit poor in pensive place. To dungeon they the wretch commit, And the survivor of his feet, But the other that had broke the peace And head of knighthood, they release, Though a delinquent false and forged, Yet b'ing a stranger, he's enlarged, While his comrade that did not hurt Is clapp'd up fast in prison for't; So Justice, while she winks at crimes, Stumbles on innocence sometimes."

[Footnote 1: Several explanations of this passage have been set forth by Butler's commentators. Dr. Grey asks, "Why the north-east side? Do Fiddlers always, or most generally, stand or sit according to the points of the compass?" Dr. Nash suggests the poet may have had in view "a conceit," which is in Brown's "Vulgar Errors," viz., that the body of man is magnetical, and being placed in a boat will never rest till the head respecteth the north. Dr. Nash remarks, "Now, the body lying on its back with its head towards the north, or standing upright with the face towards the east, the reader will find the place of the Fiddle on the left breast to be due north-east."]

[Footnote 2: Dr. Nash says, "Souse is the pig's ear, and chitterlings the pig's guts; the former alludes to Crowdero's ear, which lay on the Fiddle; the latter to the strings of the Fiddle, which are made of catgut."]

[Footnote 3: Black pudding and sausages are placed in skins of gut.]

[Footnote 4: This passage evidently refers to Violists meeting to make division to a ground, namely, in the words of Christopher Simpson, "A ground, subject, or bass (call it which you please) is prickt (written) down in two several papers, one for him who is to play the ground (upon an organ, harpsichord, or other instrument), the other for him who plays upon the Viol, who having the said ground before his eye (as his theme or subject) plays such variety of descant and division thereupon as his skill and present invention do then suggest to him." The poet's allusion to "Th' incendiary vile (Viol) that is chief author and engineer of mischief" humorously points to the popularity of the Viol. The poet's mention of persons meeting and performing on their Viols, thus making

"... division between friends, For profane and malignant ends,"

is evidently a most humorous allusion to the case of the Royalist, Sir Roger L'Estrange, the friend of Butler, and to whom was given the names of the real persons shadowed under fictitious characters in the satire. Sir Roger, whilst in St. James's Park, heard an Organ being played in the house of one Mr. Hickson. His intense love of music prompted him to seek admittance. He found there a company of five or six persons, and being himself a good Violist, was prevailed upon to take a part. By-and-by Cromwell entered, without, Sir Roger explains in a pamphlet ("Truth and Loyalty Vindicated," printed the year before the first part of Hudibras was published, in 1662), "the least colour of a design or expectation." Sir Roger went on making division with his Viol, apparently regardless of the presence of the Protector and thus earned for himself the title of Oliver's Fiddler, besides giving rise to the report that he solicited a private conference with Cromwell under the pretext of "making division" with his Viol. Dr. Johnson has truly said of Hudibras, "The manners, being founded on opinions, are temporary and local, and therefore become every day less intelligible and less striking.... Much, therefore, of that humour which transported the century with merriment is lost to us, who do not know the sour solemnity, the sullen superstition, the gloomy moroseness, and the stubborn scruples of the ancient Puritans, ... and cannot, but by recollection and study, understand the lines in which they are satirised. Our grandfathers knew the picture from the life; we judge of the life by contemplating the picture."]

[Footnote 5: Alluding to an ordinance made in 1658: "And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if any person or persons, commonly called Fiddlers, or minstrels, shall at any time after the said first day of July (1657) be taken playing, Fiddling, and making music in any inn, alehouse, or tavern, or shall be taken proffering themselves, or desiring, or intreating any person or persons to hear them play, &c., &c., shall be adjudged ... rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars."]

[Footnote 6: Crowd, a Fiddle, and therefore for injury done by "breach," or cracks, to Crowdero's instrument.]

[Footnote 7: The Fiddle-case referred to is one covered with leather, studded with nails, and with a lid opening at the end, and might be likened unto a mace.]

[Footnote 8: "This is an enigmatical description of a pair of stocks and whipping-post. It is so pompous and sublime that we are surprised so noble a structure could be raised from so ludicrous a subject. We perceive wit and humour in the strongest light in every part of the description."--_Note by Dr. Grey_.]

[Footnote 9: Dr. Nash suggests the following rendering: "His spoils, the Fiddle, and the case."]

GEORGE HERBERT'S REFERENCES TO MUSIC.

George Herbert, poet and divine, said of music, "That it did relieve his drooping spirits, compose his distracted thoughts, and raised his weary soul so far above earth, that it gave him an earnest of the joys of heaven before he possessed them." His worthy biographer, Izaak Walton, tells us--"His chiefest recreation was music, in which heavenly art he was a most excellent master, and did himself compose many divine hymns and anthems, which he set and sung to his Lute or Viol; and though he was a lover of retiredness, yet his love to music was such that he went usually twice every week, on certain appointed days, to the Cathedral Church in Salisbury, and at his return would say, 'That his time spent in prayer and Cathedral music elevated his soul, and was his heaven upon earth.' But before his return thence to Bemerton, he would usually sing and play his part at an appointed private music meeting; and, to justify this practice, he would often say, 'Religion does not banish mirth, but only moderates and sets rules to it.'"

In walking to Salisbury upon one occasion to attend his usual music meeting, George Herbert saw a poor man with a poor horse that was fallen under his load. He helped the man to unload and re-load; the poor man blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man. Upon reaching his musical friends at Salisbury they were surprised to see him so soiled and discomposed; but he told them the occasion, and when one of the company said to him "He had disparaged himself by so dirty an employment," his answer was, "That the thought of what he had done would prove music to him at midnight; and that the omission of it would have upbraided and made discord in his conscience whenever he should pass by that place; 'for if I be bound to pray for all that be in distress, I am sure that I am bound, so far as it is in my power, to practise what I pray for; and though I do not wish for the like occasion every day, yet let me tell you, I would not willingly pass one day of my life without comforting a sad soul, or showing mercy; and I praise God for this occasion; and now let us tune our instruments.'"

Herbert's love of imagery was often curious and startling. In singing of "Easter" he said--

"Awake my lute and struggle for thy part With all thy heart. The Cross taught all wood to resound His name, Who bore the same. His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key Is best to celebrate this most high day, Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song Pleasant and long: Or since all music is but three parts vied And multiplied, O let thy blessed spirit bear a part, And make up our defects with his sweet art."

The Sunday before the death of "Holy George Herbert," Izaak Walton says, "he rose suddenly from his bed, or couch, called for one of his instruments, took it into his hand and said--

"My God, my God, my music shall find Thee; And every string Shall have his attribute to sing."

And having tuned it, he played and sung--

"The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on Time's string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal, glorious King; On Sundays heaven's door stands ope, Blessings are plentiful and ripe, More plentiful than hope."

The thought to which Herbert has given expression in his lines on Easter--that "All music is but three parts vied and multiplied"--was also in the mind of Christopher Simpson, who, in his work on "The Division Viol," 1659, uses it as a musical illustration of the doctrine of Trinity in Unity. He says: "I cannot but wonder, even to amazement, that from no more than three concords (with some intervening discords) there should arise such an infinite variety, as all the music that ever has been, or ever shall be, composed. When I further consider that these sounds, placed by the interval of a third one above another, do constitute one entire harmony, which governs and comprises all the sounds that by art or imagination can be joined together in musical concordance, _that_, I cannot but think a significant emblem of that Supreme and Incomprehensible Three in One, governing, comprising, and disposing the whole machine of the world, with all its included parts, in a most perfect and stupendous harmony."

It is interesting to notice an earlier and remarkable allusion to the union of sound from the pen of Shakespeare--

"If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married, do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering, Resembling sire and child and happy mother, Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing."

VIOLINS FROM A MEDICAL POINT OF VIEW.

"Music and the sounds of instruments--says the lively Vigneul de Marville--contribute to the health of the body and the mind; they assist the circulation of the blood, they dissipate vapours, and open the vessels, so that the action of perspiration is freer. He tells the story of a person of distinction, who assured him that once being suddenly seized by violent illness, instead of a consultation of physicians, he immediately called a band of musicians, and their Violins played so well in his inside that his bowels became perfectly in tune, and in a few hours were harmoniously becalmed."--_D'Israeli's_ "_Curiosities of Literature_."

Dr. Abercrombie recommends "Careful classification of the insane, so that the mild and peaceful melancholic may not be harassed by the ravings of the maniac. The importance of this is obvious; but of still greater importance," he continues, "it will probably be to watch the first dawnings of reason, and instantly to remove from the patient all associates by whom his mind might be again bewildered."

The following case, mentioned by Pinel, is certainly an extreme one, but much important reflection arises out of it:--

"A musician confined in the Bicetre, as one of the first symptoms of returning reason, made some slight allusion to his favourite instrument. It was immediately procured for him; he occupied himself with music for several hours every day, and his convalescence seemed to be advancing rapidly. But he was then, unfortunately, allowed to come frequently in contact with a furious maniac, by meeting him in the gardens. The musician's mind was unhinged; _his Violin was destroyed;_ and he fell back into a state of insanity which was considered as confirmed and hopeless."--_Abercrombie's_ "_Intellectual Powers_."

"A MUSICIAN