Chapter 28

is like an Echo, a retail dealer in sounds. As Diana is the goddess of the silver bow, so is he the Lord of the wooden one; he has a hundred strings in his bow; other people are bow-_legged_, he is bow-_armed_; and though armed with a bow he has no skill in archery. He plays with _cat_-gut and _Kit_-Fiddle. His fingers and arms run a constant race; the former would run away from him did not a bridge interpose and oblige him to pay toll. He can distinguish sounds as other men distinguish colours. His companions are crotchets and quavers. Time will never be a match for him, for he _beats_ him most unmercifully. He runs after an Italian air open-mouthed, with as much eagerness as some fools have sought the philosopher's stone. He can bring a tune over the seas, and thinks it more excellent because far-fetched. His most admired domestics are Soprano, Siciliano, Andantino, and all the Anos and Inos that constitute the musical science. He can scrape, scratch, shake, diminish, increase, flourish, &c.; and he is so delighted with the sound of his own Viol, that an ass would sooner lend his ears to anything than to him; and as a dog shakes a pig, so does he shake a note _by the ear_, and never lets it go till he makes it squeak. He is a walking pillory, and crucifies more ears than a dozen standing ones. He often involves himself in dark and intricate passages, till he is put to a _shift_, and obliged to get out of a _scrape_--by scraping. His Viol has the effect of a _Scotch_ Fiddle, for it irritates his hearers, and puts them to the itch. He tears his audience in various ways, as I do this subject; and as I wear away my pen, so does he wear away the strings of his Fiddle. There is no medium to him; he is either in a flat or a sharp key, though both are _natural_ to him. He deals in third minors, and major thirds; proves a turncoat, and is often in the majority and the minority in the course of a few minutes. He runs over the _flat_ as often as any Newmarket racehorse; both meet the same fate, as they usually terminate in a _cadence_; the difference is--one is driven by the _whip-hand_, the other by the _bow-arm_; one deals in _stakado_, the other in _staccato_. As a thoroughbred hound discovers, by instinct, his game from all other animals, so an experienced musician _feels_ the compositions of Handel or Corelli.--Yours, TIMOTHY CATGUT, Stamford."--_Monthly Mirror_.

ORIGIN OF TARTINI'S "DEVIL'S SONATA."

The following interesting account of this marvellous composition was given by Tartini to M. de Lalande, the celebrated astronomer:--

"One night in the year 1713, I dreamed that I had made a compact with his Satanic Majesty, by which he was received into my service. Everything succeeded to the utmost of my desire, and my every wish was anticipated by this my new domestic. I thought that on taking up my Violin to practise, I jocosely asked him if he could play on that instrument. He answered that he believed he was able to pick out a tune; and then, to my astonishment, began to play a sonata, so strange and yet so beautiful, and executed in so masterly a manner, that I had never in my life heard anything so exquisite. So great was my amazement that I could scarcely breathe. Awakened by the violent emotion, I instantly seized my Violin, in the hope of being able to catch some part of the ravishing melody which I had just heard, but all in vain. The piece which I composed according to my scattered recollection is, it is true, the best of my works. I have called it the 'Sonata del Diavolo,' but it is so far inferior to the one I heard in my dream, that I should have dashed my Violin into a thousand pieces, and given up music for ever, had it been possible to deprive myself of the enjoyments which I derive from it."

In the "Reminiscences of Michael Kelly" we are told that in the year 1779 Kelly was at Florence, and that he was present at a concert given at the residence of Lord Cowper, where, he says, he had "the gratification of hearing a sonata on the Violin played by the great Nardini; though very far advanced in years, he played divinely. Lord Cowper requested him to play the popular sonata, composed by his master, Tartini, called the 'Devil's Sonata.' Mr. Jackson, an English gentleman present, asked Nardini whether the anecdote relative to this piece of music was true. Nardini answered that 'he had frequently heard Tartini relate the circumstance,' and at once gave an account of the composition, in accordance with that furnished by M. de Lalande."

DR. JOHNSON AND THE VIOLIN.

"Dr. Johnson was observed by a musical friend of his to be extremely inattentive at a concert, whilst a celebrated solo-player was running up the divisions and sub-divisions of notes upon his Violin. His friend, to induce him to take greater notice of what was going on, told him how extremely difficult it was. 'Difficult do you call it, sir?' replied the Doctor; 'I wish it were _impossible_.'"--_Seward's_ "_Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson_."

"In the evening our gentleman farmer and two others entertained themselves and the company with a great number of tunes on the Fiddle. Johnson desired to have 'Let ambition fire thy mind' played over again, and appeared to give a patient attention to it; though he owned to me that he was very insensible to the power of music. I told him that it affected me to such a degree, as often to agitate my nerves painfully, producing in my mind alternate sensations of pathetic dejection, so that I was ready to shed tears; and of daring resolution, so that I was inclined to rush into the thickest part of the battle. 'Sir,' said he, 'I should never hear it if it made me such a fool.'"--_Boswell's_ "_Life of Johnson_."

DR. JOHNSON ON THE DIFFICULTY OF PLAYING THE FIDDLE.

"_Goldsmith_: 'I spoke of Mr. Harris, of Salisbury, as being a very learned man, and in particular an eminent Grecian.'

"_Johnson_: 'I am not sure of that. His friends give him out as such, but I know not who of his friends are able to judge of it.'

"_Goldsmith_: 'He is what is much better; he is a worthy, humane man.'

"_Johnson_: 'Nay, sir, that is not to the purpose of our argument; that will as much prove that he can play upon the Fiddle as well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Grecian.'

"_Goldsmith_: 'The greatest musical performers have but small emoluments; Giardini, I am told, does not get above seven hundred a year.'

"_Johnson_: 'That is indeed but little for a man to get, who does best that which so many endeavour to do. There is nothing, I think, in which the power of art is shown so much as in playing on the Fiddle. In all other things we can do something at first; any man will forge a bar of iron if you give him a hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably; and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him a Fiddle and a Fiddlestick, and he can do nothing.'"--_Boswell's_ "_Life of Johnson_."

DR. JOHNSON'S EPITAPH ON PHILLIPS, THE WELSH VIOLINIST.

Johnson and Garrick were sitting together, when among other things Garrick repeated an epitaph upon Phillips, by a Dr. Wilkes, which was very commonplace, and Johnson said to Garrick, "I think, Davy, I can make a better." Then, stirring about his tea for a little while in a state of meditation, he, almost extempore, produced the following verses:--

"Phillips, whose touch harmonious could remove The pangs of guilty power or hapless love; Rest here, distress'd by poverty no more; Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before; Sleep undisturbed within this peaceful shrine, Till angels wake thee with a note like thine!"

Boswell says, "Mr. Garrick appears not to have recited the verses correctly, the original being as follows. One of the various readings is remarkable, and it is the germ of Johnson's concluding line:--

"Exalted soul, thy various sounds could please The love-sick virgin, and the gouty ease; Could jarring _crowds_, like old Amphion, move To beauteous order and harmonious love; Rest here in peace, till angels bid thee rise, And meet thy Saviour's _concert_ in the skies."

Boswell's "Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides" contains the author's letter to Garrick asking him to send the "bad verses which led Johnson to make his fine verses on Phillips the musician." Garrick replied, enclosing the desired epitaph.

Boswell remarks, "This epitaph is so exquisitely beautiful that I remember even Lord Kames, strangely prejudiced as he was against Dr. Johnson, was compelled to allow it very high praise. It has been ascribed to Garrick, from its appearing at first with the signature G.; but I heard Mr. Garrick declare that it was written by Dr. Johnson."

The epitaph of Phillips is in the porch of Wolverhampton Church. The prose part of it is curious:--

Near this place lies Charles Claudius Phillips, Whose absolute contempt of riches, and inimitable performances upon the Violin, made him the admiration of all that knew him. He was born in Wales, made the tour of Europe, and, after the experience of both kinds of fortune, Died in 1732.

DR. JOHNSON'S KNOWLEDGE OF MUSIC.

He said he knew "a drum from a trumpet, and a bagpipe from a guitar, which was about the extent of his knowledge of music." He further tells us that "if he had learnt music he should have been afraid he should have done nothing else but play. It was a method of employing the mind, without the labour of thinking at all, and with some applause from a man's self." These remarks are better appraised and understood when we bear in mind Dr. Johnson's own estimate of his musical knowledge together with his having derived pleasure from listening to the sounds of the bagpipes. If a performance on those droning instruments was in the Doctor's mind when he said that the reflective powers need not be exercised in performing on a musical instrument, there might be some truth in the observation. The labour of thinking, however, cannot be dispensed with in connection with playing most musical instruments, and least of all the Violin.

DR. JOHNSON ON FIDDLING AND FREE WILL.

"_Johnson_: 'Moral evil is occasioned by free will, which implies choice between good and evil. With all the evil that there is, there is no man but would rather be a free agent, than a mere machine without the evil; and what is best for each individual must be best for the whole. If a man would rather be the machine, I cannot argue with him. He is a different being from me.'

"_Boswell_: 'A man, as a machine, may have agreeable sensations; for instance, he may have pleasure in music.'

"_Johnson_: 'No, sir, he cannot have pleasure in music; at least no power of producing music; for he who can produce music may let it alone; he who can play upon a Fiddle may break it: such a man is not a machine.'"--"_Tour to the Hebrides_."

HAYDN IN LONDON.--A "SWEET STRADIVARI." (BY PERMISSION OF MR. JOHN MURRAY.)

The following extracts, taken from "A Country Clergyman of the Eighteenth Century," a pleasant and entertaining book (consisting of selections from the correspondence of the Rev. Thomas Twining, M.A.), cannot fail to interest the reader. The Rev. Thomas Twining was born in 1735. He was an excellent musician, both in theory and practice, and a lover of the Violin. He had collected much valuable information with regard to music, with a view to writing a history of the subject. Upon learning that Dr. Burney was engaged on his History of Music, he not only generously placed his valuable notes at the service of the Doctor, but revised the manuscript of his friend's History. Dr. Burney, in the preface of his work, says: "In order to satisfy the sentiments of friendship, as well as those of gratitude, I must publicly acknowledge my obligations to the zeal, intelligence, taste, and erudition of the Rev. Mr. Twining, a gentleman whose least merit is being perfectly acquainted with every branch of theoretical and practical music."

The publication of the volume containing the interesting correspondence between Dr. Burney and his friend not only serves to enlighten us relative to the substantial aid given to our musical historian, but also makes us acquainted with an English eighteenth century amateur and votary of the Fiddle of singular ability and rare humility:--

"COLCHESTER, _February_ 15, 1791.

"To DR. BURNEY,--

"... And now, my dear friend, let's draw our stools together, and have some fun. Is it possible we can help talking of Haydn first? How do you like him? What does he say? What does he do? What does he play upon? How does he play?... The papers say he has been bowed to by whole orchestras when he has appeared at the play-houses. Is he about anything in the way of composition? Come, come! I'll pester you no more with interrogations; but trust to your generosity to gratify my ardent curiosity in your own way. I have just--and I am ashamed to say but just--sent for his 'Stabat Mater.' Fisin[10] told me some quartetts had, not long ago, been published by him. He has written so much that I cannot help fearing he will soon have written himself dry. If the resources of any human composer could be inexhaustible, I should suppose Haydn's would; but as, after all, he is but mortal, I am afraid he must soon get to the bottom of his genius-box. My friend Mr. Tindal is come to settle (for the present at least) in this neighbourhood. He is going to succeed me in the curacy of Fordham. He plays the Fiddle well, the Harpsichord well, the Violoncello well. Now, sir, when I say 'well,' I can't be supposed to mean the wellness that one should predicate of a professor who makes the instrument his study; but that he plays in a very ungentlemanlike manner, exactly in time and tune, with taste, accent, and meaning, and the true sense of what he plays; and, upon the Violoncello, he has execution sufficient to play Boccherini's quintettos, at least what may be called very decently. But ask Fisin, he will tell you about our Fiddling, and vouch for our decency at least. I saw in one of the public prints an insinuation that Haydn, upon his arrival in London, had detected some forgeries, some things published in his name that were not done by him. Is that true? It does not seem very unlikely."

[Footnote 10: James Fisin was born in Colchester; was intimate with Dr. Burney, and well known as a Professor of Music.]

. . . . .

Haydn left Vienna December 15, 1790, and arrived with Salomon in London on New Year's Day, 1791. The Rev. Thomas Twining's interrogations addressed to Dr. Burney respecting him were therefore made but a few weeks after Haydn's first arrival in England. Between the months of January and May much had been seen and heard of Haydn, information of which Dr. Burney gave to his friend, as seen in the following letter:--

"COLCHESTER, _May_ 4, 1791.

"To DR. BURNEY,--

"How good it was of you to gratify me with another canto of the 'Haydniad'! It is all most interesting to me. I don't know anything--any musical thing--that would delight me so much as to meet him in a snug quartett party, and hear his manner of playing his own music. If you can bring about such a thing while I am in town, either at Chelsea, or at Mr. Burney's, or at Mr. Salomon's, or I care not where--if it were even in the Black Hole at Calcutta (if it is a good hole for music)--I say, if by hook or crook you could manage such a thing, you should be my Magnus Apollo for the rest of your life. I mention Salomon because we are a little acquainted. He has twice asked me to call upon him, and I certainly will do it when I come to town. I want to hear more of his playing; and I seem, from the little I have seen of him, to like the man. I know not how it is, but I really receive more musical pleasure from such private _cameranious_ Fiddlings and singings, and keyed instrument playings, than from all the _appret_ of public and crowded performances.

"I have lately had a sort of Fiddle mania upon me, brought on by trying and comparing different Stainers and Cremonas, &c. I believe I have got possession of a sweet Stradivari, which I play upon with much more pleasure than my Stainer, partly because the tone is sweeter, mellower, rounder, and partly because the stop is longer. My Stainer is undersized, and on that account less valuable, though the tone is as bright, piercing, and full, as of any Stainer I ever heard. Yet, when I take it up after the Stradivari it sets my teeth on edge. The tone comes out plump, all at once. There is a comfortable reserve of tone in the Stradivari, and it bears pressure; and you may draw upon it for almost as much tone as you please. I think I shall bring it to town with me, and then you shall hear it. 'Tis a battered, shattered, cracky, resinous old blackguard; but if every bow that ever crossed its strings from its birth had been sugared instead of resined, more sweetness could not come out of its belly. Addio, and ever pardon my sins of infirmity.

"Yours truly, "T. T."

GAINSBOROUGH AS A MUSICIAN.

William Jackson, organist of Exeter Cathedral, was intimate with Gainsborough, and besides being a thorough musician, painted with ability. He was also the author of many essays. In one of these he makes us acquainted with the character of Gainsborough's musical abilities. He says, "In the early part of my life I became acquainted with Thomas Gainsborough, the painter, and as his character was perhaps better known to me than to any other person, I will endeavour to divest myself of every partiality, and speak of him as he really was. Gainsborough's profession was painting, and music was his amusement--yet, there were times when music seemed to be his employment, and painting his diversion.

"When I first knew him he lived at Bath, where Giardini had been exhibiting his then unrivalled powers on the Violin. His excellent performance made Gainsborough enamoured of that instrument; and conceiving, like the servant-maid in the _Spectator_, that the music lay in the Fiddle, he was frantic until he possessed the very instrument which had given him so much pleasure--but seemed much surprised that the music of it remained behind with Giardini. He had scarcely recovered this shock (for it was a great one to _him_) when he heard Abel on the Viol da Gamba. The Violin was hung on the willow; Abel's Viol da Gamba was purchased, and the house resounded with melodious thirds and fifths from 'morn to dewy eve!' Many an Adagio and many a Minuet were begun, but none completed; this was wonderful, as it was Abel's _own_ instrument, and, therefore, _ought_ to have produced Abel's own music!

"Fortunately my friend's passion had now a fresh object--Fischer's Hautboy[11]--but I do not recollect that he deprived Fischer of his instrument; and though he procured a Hautboy, I never heard him make the least attempt on it. The next time I saw Gainsborough it was in the character of King David. He had heard a Harper at Bath--the performer was soon Harpless--and now Fischer, Abel, and Giardini were all forgotten--there was nothing like chords and arpeggios! He really stuck to the Harp long enough to play several airs with variations, and would nearly have exhausted all the pieces usually performed on an instrument incapable of modulation (this was not a pedal Harp), when another visit from Abel brought him back to the Viol da Gamba. He now saw the imperfection of sudden sounds that instantly die away--if you wanted staccato, it was to be had by a proper management of the bow, and you might also have notes as long as you please. The Viol da Gamba is the only instrument, and Abel the prince of musicians! This, and occasionally a little flirtation with the Fiddle, continued some years; when, as ill-luck would have it, he heard Crosdill, but by some irregularity of conduct he neither took up nor bought the Violoncello. All his passion for the Bass was vented in descriptions of Crosdill's tone and bowing."

[Footnote 11: Fischer was a celebrated Oboe-player. He made his first appearance in London in 1768. Gainsborough painted two portraits of him, one of which is at Hampton Court.]

Gainsborough's fondness for fresh instruments is alluded to by Philip Thicknesse, who says that during his residence at Bath, Gainsborough offered him one hundred guineas for a Viol da Gamba, dated 1612. His offer was declined, but it was ultimately agreed that he should paint a full-length portrait of Mr. Thicknesse for the Viol da Gamba. Gainsborough was delighted with the arrangement, and said "Keep me hungry; keep me hungry! and do not send the instrument until I have finished the picture." The Viol da Gamba was, however, sent the next morning, and the same day the artist stretched a canvas. He received a sitting, finished the head, rubbed in the dead colouring, &c., and then it was laid aside--no more was said of it or done to it, and he eventually returned the Viol da Gamba.

Jackson tells us that Gainsborough "disliked singing, particularly in parts. He detested reading; but was so like Sterne in his letters, that, if it were not for an originality that could be copied from no one, it might be supposed that he had formed his style upon a close imitation of that author. He had as much pleasure in looking at a Violin as in hearing it. I have seen him for many minutes surveying, in silence, the perfections of an instrument, from the just proportion of the model and beauty of workmanship. His conversation was sprightly; his favourite subjects were music and painting, which he treated in a manner peculiarly his own. He died with this expression--'We are all going to heaven, and Vandyke is of the party.'"

GARRICK AND CERVETTO.