Chapter VI: The English School (1)

... a _crescent_; and my auguring hope
Says it will come to the full.—SHAKSPEARE.

Climate, and the national habits of life, have in England presented no light obstacles to the progress and well-being of the musical art, as collectively regarded. The fogs and lazy vapours that so oft obscure, in our dear country, the genial face of the sun, must needs check and chill our animal spirits, and beat back into the heart the feelings that else would seek fellowship with the ear, by uttering the language of sweet sounds. The eager pursuit of business, on the other hand—the continuity of _action_, rigorously self-imposed, in order to satisfy both our material wants and our ambition—leaves us little opportunity—even when our sky and our land are _not_ mutually frowning and exchanging sullen looks—for the liberation and development of our half-stifled musical impulses. The consequence of this two-fold opposition is—in multitudinous instances—that the music which is _in_ us, comes not _out_; and hence it happens that we are too often suspected, by foreigners, of organic deficiency in this matter, and too often induced to doubt of ourselves. With the luxurious climate, however, and the leisurely life, that combine to make the people of _Italy_ as vocal as grasshoppers, _we_, too, should burst forth into the raptures of song, and overflow with melodial honey;—_so_ at least I venture to believe, when I think of our stock, actually _hived_, in the way of _glees_ and _ballads_—a not contemptible little store.

In addition to the two sources of impediment just noticed, may we venture to glance at a third? There is another gloom, besides that of our skies, that has had its obstructive influence, and still, in _some_ degree, retains it. England, happily for her own comfort, has now left far behind her those puritanic days wherein all persons who ministered to the _amusement_ of their fellow-beings were stigmatized as the “_caterpillars_ of a common-wealth,” and found law and opinion alike arrayed against them;—but the spirit of Puritanism, once so tyrannically exclusive, has never since departed wholly from among us—and we have, to this day, many sincere and well-meaning compatriots, whose peculiar notions of what constitutes piety, lead them to look with distrust and suspicion upon all that is beautiful in Nature or in Art, and so, to consider musical talent rather as a snare to be shunned, than as a resource to be cherished. These movers-in-a-mist, and extra-burden-bearers, confounding into _one_ the two ideas of cultivation and corruption, as if the terms were synonymous, refuse all countenance to music, as an _art_. Its secular forms, in particular, are their aversion; for they have a strong impression that music is then, _only_, in its right place, when directly employed in the service of the sanctuary. They discover, even in an _Oratorio_, copious matter for reprobation. They have no sympathy with the practice of the sweetly majestic Psalmist of Israel, who brought together, to aid in the solemnities of public worship, all that was _best_ in vocal and instrumental skill. Vociferated dissonance, exempt from rule, and from accompaniment, has _their_ approval, far above any tempered and balanced harmony; because (as _they_ persuade themselves) the one comes from the heart, and the other does _not_. To such persons, I can only (in the words of the Archbishop of Granada to Gil Blas) wish all happiness, and a little more _taste_—regretting that the influence of what I conceive to be their _mistake_ should have helped, with the other cited causes, to lessen the diffusion among us of the most delightfully recreative of all the arts, which, thus discouraged, has been driven to become the spoiled favourite of the great and rich, instead of being the constant friend and solace of the whole community.

Adverting now specifically to the English School of the violin, I would remind the reader of what has been previously observed respecting the very low estimation in which that instrument was for some time held, after its first advent to this country. To raise it into favorable regard, and to stimulate the efforts of our native professors, successive importations of foreign talent (chiefly from Italy) were required, and supplied. Our debt of this kind to the Italians has been larger than that of our continental neighbours, either of France or of Germany. Indeed the very fact of our possessing a School of our own, in this branch of art, has, I believe, been commonly overlooked by the musical writers of the continent: nor is this very surprising, when it is considered how the great masters from Italy, taking the lead in concerts and public performances, became “the observed of all observers,” and the sole marks, or at least the principal ones, for the pen of the writer. It may be demonstrated, nevertheless, that we, too, as violinists, have our separate credit to assert for the past, and yet more for the present, though we may not aspire to an equal amount of merit, in this sense, with Germany or France. We have certainly not caught, so effectually as the French, the various dexterities and felicities of execution; but it is perhaps not too much to say that we possess more “capability” for the development of the graver and better sort of _expression_. Your Englishman, with all his lumpish partiality for beef and pudding, is generally allowed to be a being of profounder sensibilities than your Frenchman. He is a better recipient of the more intense emotions that lie within the province of the “king of instruments,” although its more brilliant characteristics are less within his reach. The violin is a _shifting Proteus_, which accommodates itself to almost every kind and shade of emotion that may actuate the human mind: but then, the lighter emotions more frequently dispose us to seek the aid of music for their audible sign, than the graver ones: therefore your Frenchman, “toujours gai,” is oftener impelled to practise the violin than your Briton; and therefore he becomes, after his own fashion, a better player. But, after all, those who would appreciate _all_ the capabilities of the violin as an individual instrument, should watch its “quick denotements, working from the heart,” under all manner of hands—Italian, German, French, English, Dutch, and the rest.

With regard to _compositions_ for the instrument, generally, it must be admitted that those to which merit, as well as custom, has given the greatest currency in this country, have been of foreign production—chiefly Italian or German. Truth requires the acknowledgment, that in _this_ matter we stand far from high in the scale of national comparison. It is the remark of Burney, that, for more than half a century preceding the arrival of Giardini, the compositions of Corelli, Geminiani, Albinoni, Vivaldi, Tessarini, Veracini, and Tartini, supplied all our wants on the violin. Though somewhat poor in this point of view, we are, however, not destitute. Let us advert here to two instances only, that is to say, Boyce and Purcell. Dr. Boyce’s “Twelve Sonatas, or Trios, for two Violins and a Bass,” were longer and more generally purchased, performed, and admired (says Dr. Burney) than any productions of the kind in this kingdom, except those of Corelli. They were not only in constant use as chamber-music, in private concerts—for which they were originally designed—but in our theatres as act-tunes, and at the public gardens as favourite pieces, for many years.

“Purcell’s Sonatas and Trios (observes Mr. Hogarth, in his ‘Memoirs of the Musical Drama’) belong to the same school as those of Corelli. The Trios of the great Italian composer were published in the same year, and could not have served as a model to Purcell, who, in acknowledging his obligation to ‘the most famed Italian masters’ in this species of composition, must have alluded to Torelli and Bassani, the latter of whom was Corelli’s master. Purcell’s Sonatas, in some respects, are even superior to those of the great Italian composer; for they contain movements which, in depth of learning and ingenuity of harmonical combination, without the least appearance of labour or restraint, surpass anything to be found in the works of Corelli: but Corelli had the advantage of being a great Violinist, while Purcell, who was not only no performer himself, but probably had never heard a great performer, had no means, except the perusal of Italian scores, of forming an idea of the genius and powers of the instrument. This disadvantage prevented Purcell from striking out new and effective violin passages, and produced mechanical awkwardness, which a master of the instrument would have avoided: but it did not disable him from exhibiting taste and fancy; and every admirer of the works of Corelli will take pleasure in these Sonatas of Purcell.”

The first Englishman who seems to have attained distinction as a professional Violinist, was JOHN BANISTER, successor of Baltzar, the Lubecker, in the conduct of Charles the Second’s new band of twenty-four violins. DAVIS MELL, the clock-maker, should, however, if we are to “keep time,” be first introduced, since, although but an Amateur, he was an eminent hand at the violin, and was an agent of some little importance in the diffusion of a taste for the instrument, ere it had yet struggled into general notice. The merits of Davis Mell may be best described in the language of an already familiar friend, honest Anthony Wood:—

“In the latter end of this yeare (1657), Davis Mell, the most eminent Violinist of London, being in Oxon, Peter Pett, Will. Bull, Ken. Digby, and others of Allsowles, as also A. W. (Anthony à Wood) did give him a very handsome entertainment in the Tavern cal’d The Salutation, in St. Marie’s Parish, Oxon, own’d by Tho. Wood, son of ———— Wood of Oxon, sometimes servant to the father of A. W. The company did look upon Mr. Mell to have a prodigious hand on the Violin, and they thought that no person (as all in London did) could goe beyond him. But when Tho. Baltzar, an outlander, came to Oxon in the next yeare, they had other thoughts of Mr. Mell, who tho’ he play’d farr sweeter than Baltzar, yet Baltzar’s hand was more quick, and could run it insensibly to the end of the finger-board.”[54] And in another place, the same writer says, “After Baltzar came into England, and shew’d his most wonderful parts on that instrument, Mell was not so admired; yet he play’d sweeter, was a well-bred gentleman, and not given to excessive drinking, as Baltzar was.”

It is worthy of notice that in the year of that event (the Restoration) which proved so favourable to the march of fiddling in this country, there was published by John Jenkins (who had been a voluminous composer of _fancies_ for viols) a set of twelve sonatas for two violins and a bass, professedly in imitation of the Italian style, and the first of the kind which had ever been produced by an Englishman. “It was at this time” (observes Burney) “an instance of great condescension for a musician of _character_ to write expressly for so ribald and vulgar an instrument as the _violin_ was accounted by the lovers of lutes, guitars, and all the _fretful_ tribe.” This John Jenkins is designated by Wood as a little man with a great soul. He died in 1678.

JOHN BANISTER was the son of one of the _waits_ of the parish of St. Giles; yet, under this humble condition, he was enabled, by obtaining the rude commencement of a musical education from his father, to work his entrance into a successful career. He manifested, in a short time, such ability on the violin, as to gain the marked encouragement of being sent into France by our vivacious Charles II, for improvement, and of being appointed, on his return, leader of the royal band. From this service he was dismissed, for an offence of the tongue, such as the French partialities of the English King could not brook. He had ventured to tell Charles that the English performers on the violin were superior to those of France. Pity that a potentate so expert at a _jest_ could not (or would not) find one wherewith to excuse the frankness of his man-in-office! Banister was one of the first who established lucrative concerts in London. In the announcement of one of these (in 1677), it is stated that the musical performance will begin “with the parley of instruments, composed by Mr. Banister, and performed by eminent masters.” Banister died in 1679, and was interred in the cloister of Westminster Abbey. A contemporary, of some celebrity for his musical zeal, the Hon. Mr. North, has made a flattering allusion to this individual:—“It would be endless to mention all the elegant graces, vocal and instrumental, which are taught by the Italian Masters, and perhaps outdone by the English Banister.”

JOHN BANISTER, Jun. son of the preceding artist, and trained, by his father to his own profession, obtained a post as one of King William’s band, and also played the first violin at Drury Lane, when operas were first performed there. In this latter post he continued for a number of years, and was succeeded in it by Carbonelli. He was the composer of several _grounds with divisions_, inserted in the publication called the “Division Violin;” and a collection of music for the instrument, jointly written by himself and the German, Godfrey Finger, was published by him, and sold at his house in Brownlow-street, Drury Lane. This Banister died about the year 1729.

OBADIAH SHUTTLEWORTH, organist of St. Michael’s, Cornhill, and afterwards of the Temple Church, manifested such powers on the violin as to be ranked among the first performers of his day. He was the son of a person who lived in Spitalfields, and who had acquired a small fortune, partly by teaching the harpsichord, and partly by copying Corelli’s music for sale, before it was _printed_ in England. Shuttleworth was the leader at the Swan Concert in Cornhill, from the time of its institution till his death, about the year 1735. He was likewise a respectable composer, and produced twelve concertos and several sonatas, for violins. Of his compositions, however, if any are now extant in print, they are only two of the concertos, which were formed from the first and eleventh solos of Corelli.

HENRY ECCLES, an English Violinist of considerable eminence, dedicated himself to foreign service, owing either to the want of due encouragement in his native country, or to the disappointment of expectations too loftily pitched. He went to Paris, and succeeded in attaching himself to the band of the King of France. His father, Solomon, had been also a professor of the instrument, and had some hand in the second part of the “Division Violin,” published in London, 1693. Henry Eccles was the composer of twelve esteemed Violin Solos, published at Paris in 1720.

In treating of the progress of the violin in England, let us here again refer to the great name of PURCELL. The colouring and effects of an orchestra, as Dr. Burney has remarked, were but little known in Purcell’s time, yet he employed them more than his predecessors; and, in his sonatas, he surpassed whatever our country had produced or imported before. The chief part of his instrumental music for the theatre is included in a publication which appeared in 1697, two years after his death, under the title of “A Collection of Ayres composed for the Theatre, &c.” These airs were in four parts, for two violins, tenor and bass, and were in continual requisition as overture and act-tunes, till they were superseded by Handel’s hautbois Concertos, as were those also by his overtures, while Boyce’s Sonatas and Arne’s compositions served as act-tunes[55]. Purcell lived, however, somewhat too early, or died too young, for the attainment, even by _his_ genius, of any very high success is instrumental composition. Bassani and Torelli, others inferior to them, formed his models of imitation for violin-music—the works of Corelli being hardly then known in this country; and indeed he was so imperfectly acquainted with the extensive powers of the violin, as to have given occasion to Dr. Burney to remark that he had scarcely ever seen a becoming passage for that instrument in any of his (Purcell’s) works. His Sonatas, which contain many ingenious, and, at the time when they were composed, _new_ traits of melody and modulation, must yet be admitted to discover no great knowledge of the bow, or of the peculiar genius of the instrument and, if they are compared with the productions of his contemporary, Corelli, they will hardly escape being characterized as barbarous. This, the substance of Burney’s remarks on this matter, though according somewhat fainter praise to Purcell than is assigned to him by Mr. Hogarth, does not seem to differ much from the latter, in the essential points.

The arrival of Geminiani and Veracini, which took place in 1714, formed the commencement of an important epoch in the progress of the violin in England. The abilities of those eminent foreign masters established them as models for the study of our own artists, and confirmed the sovereignty of the instrument over all others, in our theatres and concerts. The next English performer to be noticed is—

WILLIAM CORBETT, a member of the King’s band, and a violinist of celebrity, who was the leader of the first Opera orchestra in the Haymarket, at the time when “Arsinoe” was performed there. In the year 1710, when the Italian Opera, properly so called, was established (with “Rinaldo” for its initiatory piece), a set of instrumental performers were expressly introduced, and Corbett, though in the service of the King, was permitted to go abroad. Visiting Rome, where he resided many years, he made a valuable collection of music and musical instruments. Some persons, professing to be acquainted with his circumstances, and fidgetting themselves to account for his being able to lay out such sums as he was observed to do, in the purchase of books and instruments, asserted pretty roundly that he had an allowance from Government, besides his salary, with the commission to watch the motions of the Pretender! This anxiety to construe fiddling into politics, and to find the heart of a state-mystery in the head of a violinist, is of a piece with what has been already related as to Rode and Viotti.—Returning from Italy about the year 1740, Corbett brought over with him a great quantity of music which he had composed abroad. Full of ambition to print, and desire to profit, he issued proposals for publishing by subscription a work entitled “Concertos, or universal _Bizarreries_, composed on all the new _gustos_, during many years’ residence in Italy.” This strange medley he dragged into publication; but buyers were few and shy. It was in three books, containing thirty-five Concertos of seven parts, in which he professed to have imitated the style of the various kingdoms in Europe, and of several cities and provinces in Italy. In his earlier days, before he left England, he published, in a soberer vein, two or three sets of _Sonatas for Violins and Flutes_,—twelve _Concertos for all Instruments_, and several sets of what were called _Tunes for the Plays_. Corbett died, at an advanced age, in the year 1748, bequeathing by his will the best of his instruments to Gresham College, with a salary of ten pounds a-year to a female servant, who was to act in the demonstrative character. Her expositions of the merits of this collection, are not to be confounded with the “Gresham Lectures.”

MICHAEL CHRISTIAN FESTING, performer and composer, but coming short of the summit in either capacity, was, I believe, of German birth, but nurtured to his art in England, under the direction of Geminiani. He filled the place of first violin at a musical meeting called the _Philharmonic Society_, and chiefly composed of noblemen and gentlemen performers, who met on Wednesday nights, during the winter season, at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, in the Strand. On the building of the Rotunda in Ranelagh Gardens, he was appointed sole conductor of the musical performances there. By his zeal and indefatigable exertion, he also contributed very essentially to the establishment of the _fund_ instituted for the support of decayed musicians and their families; and for several years discharged, without any remuneration, the office of secretary to that excellent institution. Its rise occurred in the year 1738, from the following circumstance. Festing, happening to be seated one day at the window of the Orange Coffee-House, at the corner of the Haymarket, observed, in the act of driving an ass, and selling brick-dust, a boy whose intelligent countenance, contrasting with the humility of his rags, strongly excited his interest. On enquiry, the lad was found to be the son of a _musician_, who had fallen under the blight of adversity. Struck with sorrow and mortification that the object before him should be the child of a brother-professor, Festing determined to attempt some plan for his support. In this worthy purpose he was assisted by Dr. Maurice Greene—and from this germ of benevolence, sprang eventually the enlarged and estimable charity which has since flourished from season to season.

Inferior, as a performer on the violin, to several others of his time, Festing had nevertheless sufficient talent, in association with gentlemanly manners and conduct, to obtain considerable influence in the musical profession, and to derive an ample and constant support from the patrons of the art among the nobility. Though not eminent as a composer, he has shewn some merit in his _solos_, and a very fair understanding of the nature and resources of the instrument. These solos are but little known, having been originally sold only by private subscription. Festing died in 1752. He was succeeded at Ranelagh, and at some of the Concerts, by Abraham Brown, a performer who had a clear, sprightly, and loud tone, but had no sense of expression.

THOMAS PINTO, who attained the honor of dividing with Giardini the leadership of the band at the King’s Theatre, was born in England, of Italian parents. His early genius for the Violin was so well directed as to render his playing, as a boy, a theme of astonishment; and, long before he was of age, he was employed as the leader of large bands at Concerts. At this time, however, he fell into a train of idle habits, and began to affect the fine gentleman rather than the musical student—keeping a horse, and sporting a special pair of boots, as his custom of a morning, while a switch in his hand displaced the forgotten fiddle-stick. From this devious course he was reclaimed by the accident of the arrival of Giardini, whose superiority to all the performers he had ever heard, inclined him to think it necessary that he should himself recur to practice; and this he did, for some time, with great diligence. A very powerful hand, and a wonderfully quick eye, were the masterly possessions of Pinto, and enabled him to perform the most difficult music at sight. He played thus, indeed, with more advantage than after studying his subject; for then, in his carelessness, he would trust to his memory, and frequently commit mistakes—missing the expression of passages, which, if he had thought them worth looking at, he would have executed with certainty. After leading at the Italian Opera whenever Giardini’s more extensive avocations caused him to lay down the truncheon, Pinto was engaged as First Violin at Drury-Lane Theatre, where he led for, many years. On the death of his first wife, Sybilla, a German singer, he married another singer, Miss Brent (the celebrated pupil of Dr. Arne), and settled in Ireland, where he died in the year 1773.

MATTHEW DUBOURG, recorded to have been one of the most eminent of the race of English Violinists, was born in the year 1703, and gave very early evidence of his musical propensities. It does not appear from whom he derived his first instructions on the instrument; but, when quite a child, he played his first solo (a sonata of Corelli’s) at one of the concerts of the eccentric Britton, the musical small-coal man. To make his infantine person sufficiently visible on that occasion, he was made to borrow elevation from a joint-stool; and so much was the “tender juvenal” alarmed at the sight of the splendid audience assembled for music and coffee in Britton’s dingy apartment, that at first he was near falling to the ground, from dismay. When about eleven years of age, he was placed under the tuition of Geminiani, who was then recently arrived in this country; and, thus tutored, he was enabled fully to confirm the promise which his first attempts had exhibited. At the age of twelve, he was again before the public—having a benefit concert at what was called the Great Room in James Street. Before he had completed his seventeenth year, he had acquired sufficient power and steadiness to lead at several of the public concerts; the fulness of his tone, and the spirit of his execution, being generally noticed. A few years more sufficed to establish thoroughly his reputation; and, in 1728, he was honoured with the appointment of Master and Composer of the State-Music in Ireland. This situation had been previously offered to his late preceptor, Geminiani, and by him declined on account of its not being tenable, in those jealously restrictive days, by a member of the Romish Communion. As the duties of this employment did not require Dubourg’s constant residence in Ireland, he passed much of his time in England, where he was chosen instructor in music to the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Cumberland, and other amateurs, whose names might belong to a “Dictionary of Etiquette.” On the death of Festing, in 1732, he was appointed Leader of the King’s Band, which situation, together with his Irish post, he was so far a musical _pluralist_ as to retain until his death, which occurred in London in the year 1767. As a member of society, according to the testimony about him which remains, few men of his profession have rendered themselves more generally respected than _he_ did.

A considerable share of originality appears to have marked the style of this artist, who, if he derived essential aid from the great man that called him pupil, was any thing but his slavish imitator. “Dubourg’s performance on the violin,” says Sir John Hawkins, “was very bold and rapid—greatly different from that of Geminiani, which was tender and pathetic;-and these qualities, it seems, he was able to communicate; for Clegg, his disciple, possessed them in as great perfection as himself.” According to the same authority, the talent of Dubourg won for him many admirers, and among them a Mrs. Martin, who had become, from a Dutch widow, an English wife, and, being possessed of a large fortune, came to reside in London, where, during the winter season, she had frequent Concerts, resorted to by citizens of the first rank, and at times by some of the nobility. A picture of Dubourg, painted when he was a boy, was, it seems, a conspicuous object in Mrs. Martin’s Concert-Room.[56]

As a composer, Dubourg is, or rather was, known by the _odes_ he officially set to music in Ireland, and by a great number of _solos_ and _concertos_ for the violin, which he wrote for his own public performances. Though alleged to have possessed much intrinsic merit, none of these appear hitherto to have been printed; nor is it likely that they will ever now meet with that honour, as the change of fashion in music would hardly admit of their being rescued from “the dreary _fuimus_ of all things human.” For a long time, however, his works (in their aforesaid manuscript state) continued in the possession of one of his pupils; and perhaps they are not yet scattered, but may be at this moment reposing in some dark old chest, undisturbed, save by the nibblings of the worms. In the faint hope of yet bringing some of them to the light, although with no view towards their multiplication, I have had recourse (but without success) to the friendly aid of that oft-times efficacious doubt-cleaver and knot-cracker, known by the name of “Notes and Queries.” As to the _odes_ above referred to, they were _ex-officio_ celebrations of royal virtue, from the now-forgotten hand of Benjamin Victor, the poet-laureate, who has achieved for himself _no_ realization of the classic wish, “victorque virûm volitare per ora.” Of several of these stately effusions, I have the words now before me. They might serve to provoke the smiles of another and a very different laureate, the living Tennyson; but, as a stimulus to _music_, I can say nothing for them—and can only _hope_ that my progenitor’s attempts, in association with them, may have been worthy of better company.

While in Ireland, Dubourg was honoured with the intimacy of Pope’s _Giant_, the Briarean Handel; and an anecdote, in which they are both concerned, serves to shew, amusingly enough, that tendency to _expatiate_ discursively on their own peculiar instrument, by which most performers of eminence are distinguished. Handel, in a spirit of charity that harmonized fortunately with his interest, but is not to be suspected of being on that account the less sincere, commenced his career in Ireland by presiding at the performance of the _Messiah_, for the benefit of the Dublin City-Prison. On a subsequent evening, Dubourg, as leader of the band, having a _close_ to make _ad libitum_, wandered about so long, in a fit of abstract modulation, as to seem a little uncertain about that indispensable postulate, the original key. At length, however, he accomplished a safe arrival at the _shake_ which was to terminate this long close, when Handel, to the great delight of the audience, cried out, loud enough to be heard in the remotest parts of the theatre—“Welcome home, welcome home, Mr. Dubourg!” One of the evidences of Handel’s friendship for him, is to be found among his testamentary arrangements, which included a bequest of £100 in his favour.

During his location in Ireland, Dubourg was also visited (in 1761) by his master Geminiani, towards whom he always evinced the utmost regard, and who died in his house, at the great age of 96.

Garrett, Earl of Mornington, noted for his fine musical taste, no less than for his lineal antecedence to the Duke of Wellington, took the interest of a patron in this modest man of art, of whose ability he shewed a precocious discernment, in his very infancy—as the following little tale will explain.

The father of the Earl played well, as an amateur, on the violin, so as to give frequent delight to his child, whilst in the nurse’s arms, and long before he could speak. Dubourg, happening on some occasion to be at the family seat, was not permitted by the child to take the violin from his father nor was the opposition overcome till his little hands were held. After having heard Dubourg, however, the case was altered, and there was then much _more_ difficulty in persuading him to let Dubourg give the instrument back to his father; nor would the infant ever afterwards permit the father to play, whilst Dubourg was in the house.

It appears that the name of this artist is the first on record in connection with the performance of a _violin concerto_ on the stage of an English theatre. At the oratorios given by Handel at Covent Garden in 1741 and 42, Dubourg occupied the ears and eyes of the public, in that way, for many successive nights. Several other performers took the hint, and started upon the same footing soon after[57]. This sort of exhibition, after some years, seems to have grown too common, to satisfy the public appetency; wherefore a Signor Rossignol, in 1776, undertook to perform after a mode which we should now style _à la Paganini_: indeed he seemed to go beyond the modern “miracle of man,” for he advertised “a concerto on the violin, _without strings_.” Whether the joke turned on the plural number, in particular, or (as the lawyers say) how otherwise, it is now impossible to ascertain.

Dubourg—peace to his gentle memory!—was interred in the church-yard of Paddington, where his calling in life, and his summons to death, were denoted in the following gracefully reflective epitaph:—

“Though, sweet as Orpheus, thou couldst bring
Soft pleadings from the trembling string,
Uncharmed the King of Terror stands,
Nor owns the magic of thy hands.”

JOHN CLEGG, a name as closely linked to misery as to talent, was, as already observed, a pupil of the last-named professor. He also travelled with Lord Ferrers into Italy, and much advanced his taste during his stay in that special home of the violin.

Castrucci, leader of the Opera-band in London during the early part of the last century, growing old, and losing much of his former vigour of execution, Handel, then at the head of the management, was desirous of placing Clegg in his station: but, knowing Castrucci to be in no exalted circumstances, and not wishing to wound his feelings, by making the intended change, without convincing him of his insufficiency, he adopted the following method for effecting his object:—He composed a violin concerto, in which the concertino (or second) part was purposely made as difficult of execution as the first. This piece he gave to Clegg, to be performed by him, accompanied by Castrucci; when the former executed his part with grace and facility, while the latter laboured through _his_ portion of the performance, in a lame and imperfect manner. Castrucci, backward as he had been to admit the rival pretensions of Clegg, was constrained to yield to him the palm of victory; and Handel obtained his wish—but nevertheless retained Castrucci in the band, and was otherwise his friend, in subsequent days.

The beauty of Clegg’s tone, and the graces of his execution, won for him many admirers as a performer; but, alas! he purchased at far too dear a sacrifice the fame for which he strove. About the year 1742, he had so deranged his faculties by intense study and practice, that it became necessary to confine him in Bedlam. There, during lucid intervals, he was allowed the use of his instrument; and it was long an _amusement_, as fashionable as it was inhuman, to visit him, among other lunatics, in the hope of encountering him at some moment of security from his “battle of the brain,” in order to be entertained, either by his fiddle, or his folly! Barbarity like this has now happily ceased to disgrace the movements of fashion, and only leaves a feeling of _wonder_, to qualify the indignation which its remembrance excites.

THOMAS COLLET, of eccentric memory, enjoyed the reputation of being one of our principal native performers about the year 1745, when he led the orchestra of Vauxhall Gardens; an appointment then more highly considered than in these days. Possessing very little, however, either of taste or of musical knowledge, he was always an inelegant player, and owed his success to his powers of execution alone; yet _these_ must have been exerted within a very confined compass, for Parke, in his “Musical Memoirs,” asserts Collet to have had such an aversion to _playing high_, that he dismissed one of his violin-performers for flourishing on the _half-shift_! Parke has added an anecdote about him, which must be confessed to savour not a little of the marvellous. “Although this gentleman, who was a great pigeon-fancier (continues Parke), did not go aloft on the _fiddle_, he went every day up to the top of his _house_, to see his pigeons fly; and on one occasion he was so lost in admiration of them, that, while clapping his hands and walking backwards, he walked over the leads of the house, and in the fall must have been dashed to pieces, had not his clothes been caught by a lamp-iron, to which he remained suspended (more frightened than hurt) until taken down by the passers-by.”

FRANCIS HACKWOOD, whose convivial and entertaining qualities assisted his professional talent, in procuring for him the notice and support of the most influential among the patrons of music, was born in 1734. He attained some distinction among violin-performers; but the play of his wit and humour seems to have outlasted that of his instrument, in the impression produced—and no wonder, considering how much farther _wit_ can be transmitted, than _sound_. It is one of the anecdotes related of this artist, that, at the conclusion of an Evening Concert given by Lord Hampden to a large assemblage of rank and fashion, when the performers had been taxed to exert themselves till a most unreasonable hour in the morning, his Lordship addressed to him the question, “Hackwood, will you stay and _sup_ with us?”—and that the answer was, “No, my Lord, I can’t; for I think (taking out his watch) my wife must be waiting _breakfast_ for me.”—In another anecdote, Hackwood figures as the _cause_ of a jest, which is the next good thing to being its utterer. He was intimate with the late Sir C——r W——e, a Lincolnshire Baronet of large fortune, who, when not laid up by the gout, was a man of three-bottle capacity. At a gentlemen’s party given by this free votary of the grape, Hackwood, who had some pressing business to transact early in the ensuing day, and had heard the clock strike one, arose to depart. “Where are you going so soon?” inquired Sir C——r. “Home, Sir,” replied Hackwood; “it has struck one.”—“_One!_” exclaimed the Baronet; “pooh, pooh! Sit down, sit down! What’s _one_, among _so many_?”—Parke, the oboist, who gives this story, spoils the close of it by a bottle of Hollands gin, which he makes the two interlocutors to have drunk out between them, on the stairs, _pour prendre congé_. The gin lends no genuine spirit to the anecdote, and had better have been omitted by the narrator, who, besides, was probably in error as to its existence at all in the case. The man who, flushed with generous wine, has succeeded in saying a tolerably good thing, may fairly be considered as too _happy_, to be in any need of such extra stimulus as half a bottle of gin. Potation of _that_ character is the resource of the _dull_. Parke has alluded generally, in no liberal temper, to the eccentricities of this professor, whose disposition he has mistaken, when attributing _meanness_ to it. This charge he founds particularly on the fact of Hackwood’s having once shouldered his own violoncello (for he played that instrument also) on his way home from Apsley-House, to save expense of coach or porter, though he was himself attired “in an elegant suit of blue silk and silver.” Those who knew him better, could have furnished his detractor with a fairer reason for the proceeding in question, by suggesting that it arose from that anxious care for the safety of his instrument, which many a performer is well known to entertain, and which, in the instance of the individual now under notice, prevailed to such an extent as even to form one of his eccentricities. So far, indeed, from being of an illiberal spirit, he was a considerable loser by the too ready advance of money to the necessitous.

Hackwood lived till 1821, and was for some years _father_ (as the term goes) of the Royal Society of Musicians.

It may be incidentally mentioned that a great benefit to our English performers on bow-stirred instruments in general, was produced by ABEL’S residence here for about a quarter of a century. That fine musician and performer, the pupil and friend of Sebastian Bach, though he handled an instrument (the _viol-da-gamba_) of a species which was not in common use, and was even about to be completely laid aside, became nevertheless the model, in adagio-playing, of all our young professors on bowed instruments, who, taught by his discretion, taste, and pathetic manner of _expressing a few notes_, became more sparing of notes in a _cantabile_, and less inclined to attempt such flourishes as have no higher purpose than to display mechanical readiness. The wonders achieved by Abel in the extraction of tone from an instrument which, albeit possessed of some sweetness, was radically so crude and nasal, as the viol-da-gamba (that remnant of the old “chest of viols”), are something truly memorable among the triumphs of art. The Robert Lindley of our own day and country, transcendant in the quality of tone which he could elicit, stands a minor marvel, as compared in this sense with Abel,—_his_ instrument being one that is naturally so much more grateful and practicable.

RICHARD CUDMORE, a native of Chichester, was born in 1787. His success began with his juvenile days, for he performed a solo in public when only nine years old; and at eleven, with still higher ambition, he played a concerto at Chichester, composed by himself! Such a thing is of course only marvellous with reference to the means which it is possible for a child to possess: accordingly, on these occasions, there is always “a liberal discount allowed”—the indulgent auditor forming his estimate on the Horatian plan of “contentus parvo.” At twelve years of age, young Cudmore attained the provincial triumph of leading the band at the Chichester Theatre—played a concerto for the comic actor, Suett, at his benefit—and performed a _violino primo_ part amongst the “older strengths” of the Italian Opera-band in London. In the mean time he was introduced to Salomon, and had the advantage of some training from that noted Master. After the subsequent enjoyment of some years of country fame, Cudmore changed the scene of his operations to London, and, giving scope to the versatility of his talent, became a pupil of Woelfl’s on the pianoforte, and, in the sequel, a public performer on that instrument also.—A striking proof of his musical ability is shewn in an anecdote recorded of him. On one occasion a performance took place at Rowland Hill’s Chapel, in Blackfriars Road, for which Salomon had rehearsed, in conjunction with Dr. Crotch and Jacobs. Salomon, however, being unexpectedly subpœnaed on a trial, requested Cudmore to become his substitute at the chapel, when he performed the music at sight, before from two to three thousand persons.—Another extraordinary instance of his skill in sight-playing, or what the French call _l’exécution à livre ouvert_, was given in a private concert at Mr. C. Nicholson’s, where he executed at sight a new and difficult manuscript concerto, which was accidentally brought thither.

At Liverpool, where he occasionally conducted the public concerts, he once performed a concerto on the violin by Rode; one on the piano by Kalkbrenner; and a third, by Cervetto, on the violoncello! At a later period, he became leader of the band at the establishment called the Manchester Amateur Concert.

G. F. PINTO, grandson of the performer of that name already noticed (whose ardent temperament he seems to have inherited, with no countervailing discretion), affords a remarkable instance of premature musical genius. He studied the violin under Salomon and Viotti, and, at fifteen years of age, had attained such accomplishment on that instrument, that he could lead an orchestra, in the performance of the symphonies of Haydn, with no very discernible inferiority to Salomon. He became also a proficient on the pianoforte, and evinced good knowledge of counterpoint, in several vocal publications of merit and originality, which he sent forth when about the age of seventeen. The syren voice of Pleasure, however, lured this promising genius to his destruction. Possessed of a fine person, and a mischievous store of vanity, he became a martyr to dissipation about the year 1808, before he had completed his twenty-first year.

THOMAS LINLEY (Junior), eldest son of the vocal composer of that name, was born at Bath, in 1756, and displayed, at a very early age, extraordinary powers on the violin—performing a concerto in public when but eight years old. To qualify him more effectually for a musical career, through a due acquaintance with theory, his father placed him under the able tuition of Dr. Boyce; after which he was sent to Florence, chiefly to prosecute the study of his favourite instrument, under the eye of Nardini. Through the kind agency of the Italian violinist, Linley acquired the advantageous friendship of Mozart, then a youth of about his own age. On his return from his studies on the continent, young Linley repaired to Bath, to lead his father’s concerts and oratorios, which he did with such precision and animation as to gain high credit. His manner of performing the concertos of Handel and Geminiani was also much admired; nor did he fail to exhibit marks of opening excellence as a composer, in his own solos and concertos, occasionally introduced, as well as in several vocal dramatic productions, which evinced considerable imagination and spirit. The brilliant professional hopes founded on these achievements were destined, however, to be suddenly darkened: for the object of them met with an untimely death in the year 1778, by the upsetting of a pleasure-boat.

THOMAS COOKE—who is there, having open ears, that does not know something of the versatile and ingenious Tom Cooke?—was born in Dublin, and was ready with his violin, at the age of seven, to play a concerto in public. Expert with hand, tongue, and pen, he has performed _three times three_ successive solos, on as many different instruments, in one night, for his benefit—and, in moments of composure, has _written_ for all of them. At a very early age, he became director and leader of the music at the Theatre Royal, Dublin; from which condition he suddenly transformed himself into that of a singer, and enjoyed a success of several seasons at the English Opera-House, in London, as vocalist and composer. His next course of exertion was at Drury Lane, as singer, and afterwards as musical director, leader, and composer, in which latter triple capacity he pursued a long and steady career. The violin was eminently useful in his hands, if it cannot be said to have been, in the highest degree, brilliant.

“Tom Cooke,” observed a chronicler, some time since, in one of the magazines, “is certainly the most facetious of fiddlers, and is the only person at present connected with theatres, who smacks of the olden days of quips and cranks. Some of his conundrums are most amusing absurdities.” After assigning to him, by a somewhat venturesome decision, the authorship of the receipt for getting a _vial-in_ at a chemist’s[58], the same writer gave two other specimens of Cooke’s powers of jest, as thus:—

Once, whilst rehearsing a song, Braham said to Cooke, who was leading, “I drop my voice there, at night”—intimating that he wished the accompaniment to be more _piano_. “_You_ drop your voice, do you?” said Cooke; “I should like to be by, and pick it up.”

During the run of the Tragedy of Manfred, he remarked, “How Denvil keeps _sober_ through the play, I can’t think; for he is _calling for spirits_, from the first scene to the last!”

Some few years have now elapsed, since this well-remembered professor was borne to that spot where—instead of the achievements of talent, or the humours of character—a few meagre words, and a date or two, comprise usually _all_ that is told to the stray pedestrian, or the passing wind!

NICHOLAS MORI, who, in certain respects, is entitled to rank high among English Violinists, was born in London, in 1796. The instrument that became the medium of his success in maturer years, was the object of his regard even in infancy—for, at three years of age, he was clutching a contracted specimen of it in his little grasp, and receiving some initiatory hints from Barthélémon. At eight, prepared and advertised as a prodigy, he was publicly playing that Professor’s difficult concerto, styled “The Emperor.” A few years later, his aspiring hand was conspicuous at the Concerts given by Mr. Heaviside, the Surgeon. To add the solid to the showy, the aid of Viotti (then almost a seceder from the profession) was wisely invoked; and nearly six years of his valuable guidance were obtained. Meanwhile, the active youth, still boyishly habited in jacket and frill, was careering through an engagement in the Opera orchestra. There, at the age of twenty, he became leader of the Ballet, on the retirement of Venus, which post he held until, in 1834, he succeeded to that of the silvery Spagnoletti.

The _Philharmonic Concerts_, which commenced in 1813, had opened a new field for the display of high talent in almost every department of the musical art. The interest and advancement of Mori, in that quarter, were zealously undertaken by Viotti; and he became one of the Directors of the Society, for several seasons. In 1819, he married the widow of Mr. Lavenu—an alliance which made him the successor to a lucrative business.

Another native Establishment, instituted in his time, afforded further opportunity for the indefatigable exertions of Mori. The _Royal Academy of Music_ received him within its walls, as one of its principal teachers of the violin. Among his pupils there, were Oury, Patey, Richards, Musgrove, and his own younger son, Nicholas. The success of his Concert-speculations, meanwhile, was attested by the overflowing audiences they constantly drew together; but such a result was not accomplished without great attendant labour and anxiety. His Classical Chamber-Concerts, commenced in 1836, in sequence to those of Blagrove’s party, kept his name still prominent before the public until his death, which took place on the 14th June, 1839.

Few professional men have possessed equal influence in our musical circles, with that which was attained by this distinguished artist; and few have succeeded in acquiring so large a share of public patronage. Yet, favourite of the public as he was, from first to last, it must be regretfully added that he failed to secure the cordial sympathy of his professional brethren, to whom his irritability of temper, and _brusquerie_ of manner, rendered his official government no halcyon reign. For all that was thus unpleasant, however, a cause was discovered, that left his real character untouched. Physical disturbance, existing and accumulating for some length of time, before his sudden decease, had impaired the functions of the brain, and unsettled the moral impulses. With such ground for acquittal of the agent, offence was at once forgotten, and sympathy alone entertained.

As to the too eager pursuit of pecuniary advantage, which has been sometimes charged upon this artist, it may not be quite so easy to award entire absolution. It is very possible, however, that what seemed the love of money, was really the love of family, urging to provident collection. Should this plea be deemed inconclusive, there would still remain much excuse for the individual, in a certain bias, or tendency, that is notoriously far too prevalent among us. I mean that inveterate habit of referring all things to the _commercial principle_, which, causing the musical art, in this country, to be regarded mainly as an object of _gain_—is bitterly unfavourable to the growth of a kindly feeling among its members (each of whom too often learns to consider his neighbour as a rival to be repressed, rather than a friend to be assisted)—and wears down the enthusiasm for high art, by a vexatiously incessant attrition with common arithmetic.

“Non bene conveniunt, nec in unâ sede morantur,
_Plutus et Euterpe_!”

In Germany, on the contrary, where art is loved chiefly for itself, and where moderate desires attend its exercise, the social feeling among musical men—a thing delightful to witness—is as beneficial in its influence on the character of the individual professor, as in its effect on the general interests of the art. The same remark applies, in a lesser degree, to the credit of the musical profession in France. It is not too much to hope that the now obviously increasing diffusion of musical taste and intelligence among ourselves, will bring, as its ultimate consequences, a diminished care for emolument, and a closer fraternal feeling among our artists.

To advert more minutely to Mori’s powers as a Violinist—since he was not great in _all_ the requisites, it follows that he can scarcely be regarded as an artist of the very highest order. That mechanical command over the executive difficulties of the instrument, for which he was so remarkable, and which enabled him, when yet a boy, to delight the lovers of the surprising—was his chief merit—“the pith and marrow of his attribute.” The tuition he received from Viotti, that most vigorous of Violinists, was of great importance in directing and maturing his great manual capacity; but, though he derived from him, and from his own assiduous study, a full, free tone, a dashing execution, and the most accurate neatness,—his temperament, somewhat hard and ungenial, seems to have been too little in accordance with Viotti’s, to admit of his fully acquiring _all_ the advantages which that great preceptor was fitted to impart. He caught most felicitously the art of triumphing over difficult passages—the perfection of mere fiddling—but he had not the soul

“To snatch a grace _beyond_ the reach of _art_—”