Chapter X (2)

And, while employing this kind of excuse, which will perhaps be received as better than none, in behalf of a fraternity, who, if they _torment_ a little, unquestionably do much more _suffer_, I may as well go on to offer the following such-as-it-is

APOLOGY FOR MATTHEW MARKIT, A “COMMON FIDDLER.”

Let not wrath against him gather—
Call him not a useless bore!
Would you not, this dirty weather,
Have _a scraper at your door_?
Such is he;—nay, more than that,
He’s a _Scraper, and a—Mat_!

I do remember an itinerant, who used to sing a piece of dismal merriment, with a squeaking violin accompaniment, to the appropriate burden of “Heigh ho! fiddle de dee!” and a very wry face at each recurrence of this peculiar interjection. He much affected Knightsbridge and Hyde Park Corner, but was likewise visible at other points of the metropolis. His wife, a diminutive body, with a small whine by way of voice, helped to make “variety of wretchedness” in the exhibition. They looked as if familiar with none but the copper coinage of the realm. Yet they had generally their _côterie_ around them—their “assistance admirative.” To be musical, _any how_, passes for a talent!

I will not suppose my readers so oblivious of an elderly joke, as not to recognize the face of that which is about to greet them; but, having found a version of it “turned to numbers,” I present it—a little “rubbed up” for the occasion—to the indulgent attention of those who have only met with it in prosaic statement:

A blind man, fed by fiddling,
Was known through many a street;
His “style,” far short of “middling,”
With some did pass for sweet.
He priz’d his fiddle greatly;
The _case_ had fainter praise—
The _case_ by “wife” made lately,
With half a yard of baize.
One day, when, led by Rover,
He had a bridge to pass,
His fiddle tumbled over,
Stick, case, and all, alas!
He straight set up a roaring,
And added such grimace,
That folks around came pouring,
And pitied his sad case.
“Sad _case_! Psha! twiddle diddle!”
Cried he, with scornful face;
“Could I but get my _fiddle_
D’ye think I’d mind _the case_?”

Having thus made ourselves familiar with the street fiddler, and thereby, as it were, “sounded the very base-string of humility,” may we not be fairly supposed to have reached the _fag-end_ of our subject? Whilst on this lower level, however—or, in what may be termed the Vale of Cacophony—I cannot conclude, without offering to the patience of my kind readers two more scraps of verse, wherein I have sought to exhibit a pair of specimens that belong, equally with the poor street fiddler, to the class of—those that _might_ be dispensed with:

EPIGRAM

ON AN UNFORTUNATE MAN, AND BAD FIDDLER.

Though DIBBLE is feeble in all that he’s _at_,
Few fools ever _fondled a failure_ before, so.
In love, as in music, he stands for a _flat_—
(For his Fanny is false, and his fiddle is _more_ so),
While _he_ still ignoreth—what none can dispute—
That his suit’s out of tune, and his tune doesn’t suit!

ANOTHER, ON ANOTHER BAD FIDDLER.

When SCREECHLEY on that _noise-box_ harshly grates,
What, what’s the supposition that must follow?
_This_—that by some odd shifting of the Fates,
’Tis _Marsyas_’ turn to flay alive _Apollo_!

ADDENDUM.

FEMALE VIOLINISTS.

“Place aux dames!”

[This section of the Work, which should have formed Chapter VIII,
having been accidentally omitted in the printing, there remained
no other course than, either to insert it here (as is actually
done), or, by a dismissal utterly at variance with the laws of
gallantry and of justice, to exclude it altogether, and so to
debar the fairer portion of the community from all participation
in the honours connected with the “King of Instruments”—an idea
not to be for a moment entertained. If, in this volume, as in a
campaigning army, the ladies find themselves placed altogether in
_the rear_—let them attribute the position, in _this_ case as in
_that_, to anything but disrespect.]

Instead of a _bow-arm_, must ladies be allowed only the _arm_ of a _beau_? Why should not a lady play on the Violin? The common objection is, that it is ungraceful. The ladies in Boccaccio’s Decameron, however—and who shall charge _them_ with want of grace?—played on the _viol_, a bowed instrument requiring from the performer a similar position and handling to those exacted by the violin. If this latter instrument, considered in relation to a lady, _should_ be admitted to be somewhat deficient in grace,—has not the lady, out of the overflowing abundance of this quality, which is her sex’s characteristic, some of it to spare for communication to the instrument? Can she not impart some of it to whatsoever object she chooses to associate with herself? Surely, she who can transform the rudest of beings from a bear to a man, and from a man to a gentleman, can lend a few spare charms to so grateful a receiver as the fiddle, which is found to repay in so eloquent a manner the attentions bestowed on it. But if the doubters continue to shake their heads at this, I would ask them whether, after all, we are to expect grace in _every_ act and habit of a lady’s life, and call on her to reject every thing that may be thought inconsistent with it? Our modern respected fair one may, like Eve, have “heaven in her eye;” but really, looking at some of the offices which we are content to thrust upon her, it seems rather too much to insist that she shall also, like our original mother, have “grace in _all_ her movements.” Is there grace in making a pie, or cutting bread and butter, or darning a stocking? If we have grace in the _effect_, shall we be rigid to require it in the _means_ also? Now, the grace which belongs to violin-playing is _audible_ rather than _visible_, residing in the effect more than in the means: nor ought we to be such cormorants of pleasure, as to demand that the person who is filling our _ears_ with rapture, shall, at the same time, be enchanting to the utmost our _eyes_. If, then, a lady, full of soul and intelligence, is capable of expressing these through the fine medium which this instrument offers, should she be debarred from it, and restricted perhaps to the harp, because, forsooth, the grace that is merely external is found most in association with the latter? Let us only be reasonable enough to be satisfied, on principle, with the delicious effect that visits us through the ears, and we shall then give no hyper-critical heed to the rapid action of a lady’s arm in a _presto_ movement, or to the depression of her head in holding the instrument; nor shall we continue to demand, with a pertinacity more nice than wise, that a feminine fiddler be

“Graceful as Dian when she draws _her_ bow.”

That exquisite sensibility which is one distinguishing charm of the female character, has its fittest musical exponent in the powers of the violin, which, therefore, in this particular sense, might even be styled the women’s own instrument: but, without going so far as this, there seems no sufficient reason why it should not, occasionally, be honored by figuring in the hands of the fair. Should these defensive remarks, however, be found unsatisfactory by your anti-women’s-playing-the-violin-at-all sort of people, I have nothing farther to say to them, but leave them to quote, undisturbed, their “quæ sunt virorum, mascula dicas,” &c. For my own part, I think so highly both of the ladies and the violin, that I rejoice at every opportunity of their being introduced to each other, and am delighted to know that, from time to time, certain clever and spirited women _have_ been found ready to overcome the prejudices that have so long kept them asunder. Let us by all means enquire who these are.

A very high name meets us at the outset of our investigation—no less a one than that of QUEEN ELIZABETH. This exalted personage, who is recorded to have been musical “so far forth as might become a princess,” appears to have amused herself not only with the lute, the virginals, and her own voice, but with the violin. An instrument of this denomination, of the old and imperfect fashion, but splendidly “got up,” has been traced to her possession. If any particulars of Her Majesty’s style of performance could now be obtained, it would doubtless be found that she displayed, in no common degree, what is called “a powerful bow-arm,” but that she neglected the “sweet little touches” that give delicacy to execution.

To arrive at instances nearer to our own time, let us go at once from the Queen of England to Madame MARA, the Queen of Song. Her first musical studies were directed to the violin. When yet an infant, the little Gertrude Elizabeth Smaling (such was her name) discovered so strong an inclination for the violin, that her father was induced to give her a few lessons on that instrument. Her progress was so rapid, that, as early as her tenth year, she excited the public surprise. It is certain that the development of her vocal powers was not a little aided by this cultivation of an instrument that may be called the friendly rival of the human voice. She herself was known to declare, that, if she had a daughter, she should learn the fiddle before she sang a note; for (as she remarked) how can you convey a just notion of minute variations in the pitch of a note? By a fixed instrument? No! By the voice? No! but, by sliding the fingers upon a string, you instantly make the slightest variations visibly, as well as audibly, perceptible. It was by her early practice of the violin, that this celebrated woman had acquired her wonderful facility of dashing at all musical intervals, however unusual and difficult. She married a violoncellist, of no great capacity, except for drinking.

MADDALENA LOMBARDINI SIRMEN, who united to high accomplishment as a singer such an eminence in violin-playing, as enabled her, in some degree, to rival Nardini, had an almost European reputation towards the end of the last century. She received her first musical instructions at the Conservatory of the _Mendicanti_ at Venice, and then took lessons on the violin from Tartini. About the year 1780, she visited France and England. This feminine artist composed a considerable quantity of violin music, a great part of which was published at Amsterdam. A curious document is extant as a relic of the correspondence between this lady and Tartini. It consists of a perceptive letter from the great master, the original of which, along with a translation by Dr. Burney, was published in London in 1771. From this pamphlet, which is now among the rarities of musical literature, I shall here give the Doctor’s English version of the letter:

“My very much esteemed

“SIGNORA MADDALENA,

“Finding myself at length disengaged from the weighty business
which has so long prevented me from performing my promise to you,
I shall begin the instructions you wish from me, by letter; and
if I should not explain myself with sufficient clearness, I
entreat you to tell me your doubts and difficulties, in writing,
which I shall not fail to remove in a future letter.

“Your principal practice and study should, at present, be
confined to the use and power of the _bow_, in order to make
yourself entirely mistress in the execution and expression of
whatever can be played or sung, within the compass and ability of
your instrument. Your first study, therefore, should be the true
manner of holding, balancing, and pressing the bow lightly, but
steadily, upon the strings, in such manner as that it shall seem
to _breathe_ the first tone it gives, which must proceed from the
friction of the string, and not from percussion, as by a blow
given with a hammer upon it. This depends on laying the bow
lightly upon the strings, at the first contact, and on gently
pressing it afterwards; which, if done gradually, can scarce have
too much force given to it—because, if the tone is _begun_ with
delicacy, there is little danger of rendering it afterwards
either coarse or harsh.

“Of this first contact, and delicate manner of beginning a tone,
you should make yourself a perfect mistress, in every situation
and part of the bow, as well in the middle as at the extremities;
and in moving it up, as well as in drawing it down. To unite all
these laborious particulars into one lesson, my advice is, that
you first exercise yourself in a swell upon an open string—for
example, upon the second, or _la_: that you begin _pianissimo_,
and increase the tone by slow degrees to its _fortissimo_; and
this study should be equally made, with the motion of the bow up,
and down; in which exercise you should spend at least _an hour_
every day, though at different times, a little in the morning,
and a little in the evening; having constantly in mind that this
practice is, of all others, the most difficult, and the most
essential to playing well on the Violin. When you are a perfect
mistress of this part of a good performer, a swell will be very
easy to you—beginning with the most minute softness, increasing
the tone to its loudest degree, and diminishing it to the same
point of softness with which you began; and all this in the same
stroke of the bow. Every degree of pressure upon the string,
which the expression of a note or passage shall require, will, by
this means, be easy and certain; and you will be able to execute
with your bow whatever you please. After this, in order to
acquire that light pulsation and play of the wrist from whence
velocity in bowing arises, it will be best for you to practise,
every day, one of the _allegros_, of which there are three, in
Corelli’s solos, which entirely move in semiquavers. The first is
in D, in playing which you should accelerate the motion a little
each time, till you arrive at the greatest degree of swiftness
possible. But two precautions are necessary in this exercise. The
first is, that you play the notes _staccato_, that is, separate
and detached, with a little space between every two, as if there
was a rest after each note. The second precaution is, that you
first play with the point of the bow; and, when that becomes easy
to you, that you use that part of it which is between the point
and the middle; and, when you are likewise mistress of this part
of the bow, that you practise in the same manner with the middle
of the bow. And, above all, you must remember, in these studies,
to begin the _allegros_ or flights sometimes with an up-bow, and
sometimes with a _down-bow_, carefully avoiding the habit of
constantly practising one way.

“In order to acquire a greater facility of executing swift
passages in a light and neat manner, it will be of great use if
you accustom yourself to skip over a string between two quick
notes in divisions. Of such divisions you may play extempore as
many as you please, and in every key, which will be both useful
and necessary.

“With regard to the finger-board, or carriage of the left hand, I
have one thing strongly to recommend to you, which will suffice
for all, and that is the taking a violin part—either the _first_
or _second_ of a concerto, sonata, or song (any thing will serve
the purpose)—and playing it upon the _half-shift_; that is, with
the first finger upon G on the first string, and constantly
keeping upon this shift, playing the whole piece without moving
the hand from this situation, unless A on the fourth string be
wanted, or D upon the first but, in that case, you should
afterwards return again to the half-shift, without ever moving
the hand down to the natural position. This practice should be
continued till you can execute with facility upon the half-shift
any violin part, not intended as a solo, at sight. After this,
advance the hand on the finger-board to the whole-shift, with the
first finger upon A on the first string, and accustom yourself to
this position, till you can execute every thing upon the whole
shift with as much ease as when the hand is in its natural
situation; and when certain of this, advance to the
_double-shift_, with the first finger upon B on the first string.
When sure of that likewise, pass to the fourth position of the
hand, making C with the first finger, upon the first string: and,
indeed, this is a scale in which, when you are firm, you may be
said to be mistress of the finger-board. This study is so
necessary, that I most earnestly recommend it to your attention.

“I now pass to the third essential part of a good performer on
the Violin, which is the making a good _shake_; and I would have
you practise it slowly, moderately fast, and quickly; that is,
with the two notes succeeding each other in these three degrees
of _adagio_, _andante_, and _presto_; and, in practice, you have
great occasion for these different kinds of shakes; for the same
shake will not serve with equal propriety for a slow movement as
for a quick one. To acquire both at once with the same trouble,
begin with an open string—either the first or second, it will be
equally useful: sustain the note in a swell, and begin the shake
very slowly, increasing in quickness by insensible degrees, till
it becomes rapid. You must not rigorously move immediately from
semiquavers to demisemiquavers, or from these to the next in
degree; that would be doubling the velocity of the shake all at
once, which would be a _skip_, not a _gradation_; but you can
imagine, between a semiquaver and a demisemiquaver, intermediate
degrees of rapidity, quicker than the one, and slower than the
other of these characters. You are, therefore, to increase in
velocity, by the same degrees, in practising the shake, as in
loudness, when you make a swell.

“You must attentively and assiduously persevere in the practice
of this embellishment, and begin at first with an open string,
upon which, if you are once able to make a good shake with the
first finger, you will, with the greater facility, acquire one
with the second, the third, and the fourth or little finger, with
which you must practise in a particular manner, as more feeble
than the rest of its brethren.

“I shall at present propose no other studies to your application:
what I have already said is more than sufficient, if your zeal is
equal to my wishes for your improvement. I hope you will
sincerely inform me whether I have explained clearly thus far;
that you will accept of my respects, which I likewise beg of you
to present to the Princess, to Signora Teresa, and to Signora
Clara, for all whom I have a sincere regard; and believe me to
be, with great affection,

“Your obedient and most humble servant,

“GIUSEPPE TARTINI.”

REGINA SCHLICK, wife of a noted German Violoncellist and Composer, was celebrated under her maiden name of Sacchi, as well as afterwards, for her performance on the violin. She was born at Mantua in 1764, and received her musical education at the _Conservatorio della Pietà_, at Venice. She afterwards passed some years at Paris. This lady was a particular friend of Mozart’s, and, being in Vienna, about the year 1786, solicited the great composer to write something for their joint performance at her concert. With his usual kindness, Mozart promised to comply with her request, and, accordingly, composed and arranged in his mind the beautiful Sonata for the piano and violin, in B flat minor, with its solemn adagio introduction. But it was necessary to go from _mind_ to _matter_—that is, to put the combined ideas into visible form, in the usual way. The destined day approached, and not a note was committed to paper! The anxiety of Madame Schlick became excessive, and, at length, the earnestness of her entreaties was such, that Mozart could no longer procrastinate. But his favorite and seductive game of billiards came in the way; and it was only the very evening before the concert, that he sent her the manuscript, in order that she might study it by the following afternoon. Happy to obtain the treasure, though so late, she scarcely quitted it for a moment’s repose. The concert commenced: the Court was present, and the rooms were crowded with the rank and fashion of Vienna. The sonata began; the composition was beautiful, and the execution of the two artists perfect in every respect. The audience was all rapture—the applause enthusiastic: but there was one distinguished personage in the room, whose enjoyment exceeded that of all the other auditors—the Emperor Joseph II, who, in his box, just over the heads of the performers, using his opera-glass to look at Mozart, perceived that there was nothing upon his music-desk but a sheet of white paper! At the conclusion of the concert, the Emperor beckoned Mozart to his box, and said to him, in a half-whisper, “So, Mozart, you have once again trusted to chance!”—“Yes, your Majesty,” replied the composer, with a smile that was half triumph and half confusion. Had Mozart—not _studied_—but merely _played over_, this music _once_ with the lady, it would not have been so wonderful: but he had never even heard the Sonata _with_ the violin[68].

LOUISE GAUTHEROT, a Frenchwoman, was also distinguished on this instrument. In 1789 and 1790, she performed concertos at the London Oratorios, making great impression by the fine ability she manifested. In referring to this lady’s professional achievements, one of those who refuse to consider violin-playing as “an excellent thing in woman,” has indulged in the following remarks: “It is said, by fabulous writers, that Minerva, happening to look into a stream whilst playing her favorite instrument, the flute, and perceiving the distortion of countenance it occasioned, was so much disgusted, that she cast it away, and dashed it to pieces! Although I would not recommend, to any lady playing on a valuable Cremona fiddle, to follow the example of the goddess, yet it strikes me that, if she is desirous of enrapturing her audience, she should display her talent in a situation where there is only just light enough to make darkness visible.”—Shall we reply, ladies, to a detractor who is forced to seek support for his opinions in “fabulous writers,” and, even then, drags forward that which is no parallel case? Nay, nay, let him pass! Let him retire into the darkness which he so unwarrantably recommends to others!

LUIGIA GERBINI, who ranks among the pupils of Viotti, attained considerable credit as a performer. In 1799, her execution of some violin concertos, between the acts, at the Italian Theatre in Lisbon, was attended with marked success; as were afterwards her vocal exertions at the same Theatre. This lady visited Madrid in 1801; and, some years later, gave evidence of her instrumental talent at some public concerts in London.

SIGNORA PARAVICINI, another pupil of Viotti’s, earned a widely spread fame as a violinist. At Milan, where various fêtes were given in celebration of the battle of Lodi, the wife of Bonaparte was very favorably impressed, during one of these, by the talents of Madame Paravicini. Josephine, a woman of generosity as well as taste, became the patroness of this lady, engaged her to instruct her son, Eugène Beauharnois, and afterwards took her to Paris. However, for some reason not publicly known, Madame Paravicini was, after a time, neglected by Josephine; in consequence of which, and of other misfortunes, she became so distressed in her circumstances, as to be compelled to live on the money produced by the sale of her wearing-apparel. Driven at last to the utmost exigence, she had no remaining resource, except that of applying to the benevolence of the Italians then in Paris, who enabled her to redeem her clothes, and return to Milan. There, her abilities again procured her competence and credit. Her performance was much admired also at Vienna, where, in 1827, she

“Flourished her _bow_, and showed how _fame_ was won.”

According to the report which travelled in her favour from thence, she evinced a full and pure tone—a touch possessing the solidity and decision of the excellent school in which were formed a Kreutzer and a Lafont—and a mode of bowing so graceful, as to triumph over all preconceived ideas of the awkwardness of the instrument in a female hand. Madame Paravicini, in the course of her professional migrations, was performing at Bologna in the year 1832.

CATARINA CALCAGNO, born at Genoa in 1797, received, as a child, some instructions from the potential Paganini; and, at the age of fifteen, astonished Italy by the fearless freedom of her play—but seems to have left no traces of her career, beyond the year 1816.

Madame KRAHMEN, in 1824, executed a violin concerto of Viotti’s, with great spirit and effect, at a concert in Vienna. At Prague, in the same year, a young lady named SCHULZ gave public delight as a violin performer. Mademoiselle ELEANORA NEUMANN, of Moscow, pupil of Professsor Morandi, also astonished the public in like manner at Prague, and at Vienna, when she had scarcely reached her tenth year! She is said to have treated the instrument with great effect, and with a precision and purity of tone not always to be found in those “children of _larger_ growth” who are content to substitute feats of skill, in place of these essential requisites.

Madame FILIPOWICZ, of Polish derivation, has given us evidence, in London, not many years since, of the success with which feminine sway _may_ be exercised over the most difficult of instruments.

The instances I have thus brought forward will probably be deemed sufficient—_else_ were it easy to go backward again in date, and to mention Horace Walpole’s visit to St. Cyr, in one of the apartments of which serious establishment, he beheld the young ladies dancing minuets and country-dances, while a nun, albeit “not quite so able as St. Cecilia,” played on the violin!—Or, I might allude to the threefold musical genius of Mrs. Sarah Ottey, who, in 1721-22, frequently performed solos at concerts, on the harpsichord, violin, and base-viol! Enough, however, has been produced, to shew “quid femina possit”—what the fair sex _can_ achieve, upon the first and most fascinating of instruments.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] M. Cartier, Musicien de la Chapelle du Roi, announced for publication, several years ago, an “Essai Historique sur le Violon, et sur les progrès de l’Art Musical, depuis le moyen age.” This announcement was accompanied by the following observations:—“An Historical Essay upon the Violin may, at first sight, appear to many to possess but little interest. They will not readily believe that it is capable of exciting their liveliest curiosity, and of presenting an object of real utility, inasmuch as an attempt will be made to lead the mind from the mere mechanism of the art to a moral and scientific view of the subject, and to a consideration how far the _beau idéal_ of music is indebted to the violin. The author proves that this instrument was unknown to _the ancients_, and derives its origin from the _Druids of Gaul_, from whom it afterwards passed to the bards of Scotland—that, from this obscure beginning, it made its way through the dark ages, with slow but certain success, till the beginning of the 17th century, when it attained the first rank among instruments.”—(_Harmonicon_, 1827.) I have not been able to discover whether this promised treatise has yet seen the light. The idea of tracing the instrument to the _Druids of Gaul_ seems more romantic than rational; but it would be something gained for _la gloire de la France_, could such a theory be substantiated.

[2] In England, during the time here referred to, the instruments of the viol class were so much in favour that every considerable family had, as a necessary part of its establishment, a complete _chest of viols_, that is to say, a treble, tenor and bass-viol, each played with a bow, and bearing such proportion to one another as do the modern violin, tenor and violoncello.

[3] “Memoirs of the Musical Drama.”

[4] M. Baillot makes a somewhat longer draft upon the past tense; for he states, that for nearly _three hundred years_ back there has been no change in the structure of the violin.—Introduction to the “Méthode de Violon du Conservatoire.”

[5] They who enjoy the advantage of access to curious books may see a figure of a Provençal Fiddler in “Diez, Poesie der Troubadour.” Viol was the old Norman French name for the fiddle used by the minstrels of the middle ages, which was furnished variously with 3, 4, 5, or 6 strings. Viula was the Provençal term—and arson, or arçon, for the _bow_.

[6] “It is a kinde of disparagement to be a cunning fiddler.”—_Feltham._

[7] The lute, of which hardly the shape, and still less the sound, are now known, was, during the 16th and 17th centuries, the favourite chamber instrument of every nation in Europe.

[8] According to Strutt, the name of _fiddlers_ was applied to the _minstrels_ as early, at least, as the 14th century. “It occurs (says that writer) in the Vision of Pierce the Ploughman, where we read, ‘not to fare as a fydeler, or a frier, to seke feastes.’ It is also used, but not sarcastically, in the poem of Launfel:—

They had menstrelles of moche honours,
Fydelers, sytolyrs, and trompoters.

“I remember also (says Strutt) a story recorded in a manuscript, written about the reign of Edward III, of a young man of family, who came to a feast, where many of the nobility were present, in a vesture called a coat bardy, cut short in the German fashion, and resembling the dress of a minstrel. The oddity of his habit attracted the notice of the company, and especially of an elderly knight, to whom he was well known, who thus addressed him: “Where, my friend, is your fiddle, your ribible, or suchlike instrument belonging to a minstrel?” “Sir,” replied the young man, “I have no crafte nor science in using such instruments.” “Then,” returned the knight, “you are much to blame; for, if you choose to debase yourself and your family by appearing in the garb of a minstrel, it is fitting you should be able to perform his duty.”

[9] The miserable state of itinerant fiddlers, and other musicians, is described by Putenham, in his _Arte of English Poesie_, printed in 1589; and Bishop Hall, the satirist, adverting to their low condition, describes them as

Selling a laughter for a cold meale’s meat.

[10] The learned Wilhelm Grimm, who quotes this curious record from _Storck, Darstellungen aus dem Rhein-und Mosellande_, conceives that this armorial bearing fully explains the allusion to the fiddle of Volker, the accomplished musician and warrior in the old poem of the “Nibelungen Lied” (supposed of the 12th century), and forms a key to the enigma of his being exhibited in the joint capacity of champion and fiddler, and bearing his fiddle, that is, his _arms_, into the battle with him.

[11] The readiness of an apothecary to _take up a viol_ does not seem, after all, a thing so much out of course. The singularity is, rather, that he should be able to _make so little of it_.

[12] The viol, less powerful and penetrating than its supplanter, the violin, was not without its recommendatory qualities. Hawkins speaks of “the sweet and delicate tone which distinguishes the viol species.” Old Thomas Mace, who wrote when the viol was declining in fashion, was emphatic in its praise. “Your best provision,” says he, “and most compleat, will be a good _chest of_ viols; six in number, viz. 2 basses, 2 tenors, and 2 trebles; all truly and proportionally suited.”

[13] According to this loose diction of honest Anthony’s, it would appear as if Troylus and Achilles had exhibited a rivalry on the violin, like Lafont and Paganini!

[14] That the Italians (says M. Choron) have perfected every sort of vocal composition, is generally agreed; but a fact which is apt to be overlooked, is that they have been the instructors of all Europe in instrumental composition, and that to them we are indebted for the first and most esteemed models in that department of the art. It is the Italians who invented all the various kinds of instrumental music which we have called single pieces or solos, from the sonata to the concerto. In violin music, Corelli, Tartini, and their pupils, preceded the composers of all the other nations of Europe, to whom they have served as models. The same may be said with regard to the harpsichord, from Frescobaldi to Clementi. All other single pieces have been constructed on the model of the compositions for the two instruments just named.

[15] At the time of Corelli’s greatest reputation, Geminiani asked Scarlatti what he thought of him. The man of hard learning replied that “he found nothing greatly to admire in his composition, but was extremely struck with the manner in which he played his concertos, and his nice management of his band, the uncommon accuracy of whose performance gave the concertos an amazing effect, even to the _eye_, as well as to the ear; for (as Geminiani explained) Corelli regarded it as essential to a band that their bows should all move exactly together, _all up_, or _all down_; so that, at his rehearsal, which constantly preceded every public performance of his Concertos, he would immediately stop the band, if he saw an irregular bow.

We may smile a little at Scarlatti’s criticism; but the smile may extend at the same time to the quaint precision of the Corellian custom it notices:—a custom which suggests the idea of military mechanism, as well as military time; or rather, which reminds us, in a still more lively manner, of the old nursery pæan.

Here we go up, up, up,
And here we go down, down, downy!

Scarlatti (it may be here observed) was the first who introduced into his airs, accompaniments for the violin, as well as bits of symphony;—thus both enriching the melody, and giving relief to the singer.

[16] The only English editions of the above-named works are those published by Messrs. Robert Cocks and Co.; one of which editions is printed from the original plates of copper, which formed part of the stock of Walsh, who printed for Handel.

[17] Burney has made the mistake of stating that the work dedicated to the Cardinal was the _Opera Quinta_; and, although this was obviously a mere slip of the pen, carrying with it its own contradiction, it is curious to observe with what easy acquiescence the successive English Compilers have reprinted the error.

[18] The overture is inserted in the printed collections of Handel’s Overtures; and it is conjectured that it was the _first_ movement which appeared so difficult to Corelli.

[19] This must have happened about the year 1708; as it appears that Scarlatti was settled at Rome from 1709 to the time of his decease. Corelli’s Concertos therefore must have been composed many years before they were published.

[20] The coincidences suggested by this juxta-position are so inviting for an epigrammatic twist, that the indulgent reader will perhaps, pardon the following attempt:

Each heading, in his art, the school of Rome,
Painter and Fiddler here have found their tomb.
Though dead in body, both in fame are quick—
Fame wrought with _hair_ appended to a _stick_!
So Genius triumphs, and her sway extends,
By means minute attaining greatest ends.

[21] Dr. Burney dates his birth 1666; but Sir John Hawkins, who assigns the date above given, is the more likely to be correct, as he was personally acquainted with Geminiani.

[22] According to Dr. Burney’s reckoning, his term of years would have been 96: the reason for supposing that authority erroneous has been already stated.

[23] It is a somewhat curious circumstance that the descendant of Carbonelli, with an _i_ less than his progenitor, is at this day exercising that very liquid calling which finally prevailed with the man of music. Whether, besides selling superlative wine, he makes any pretension to support the ancestral honors on the violin, is a point I am unable to determine.

[24] There is another account of this love episode in Tartini’s life, which does not conduct it so far as matrimony, but represents that, when all the arguments of his friends against the match were found to be without effect, his father was compelled to confine him to his room; and that, in order to engage his attention, he furnished him with books and musical instruments, by means of which he _soon overcame his passion_! This statement, so opposed to the general experience of such matters, will easily be discredited by all youthful hearts. Cure a young gentleman’s passion, his first love, by locking him up in a study! Preposterous. Let us cling to the more current account, and confide in probability and Dr. Burney.

[25] Of several treatises which Tartini has written, the one most celebrated, his “Trattato di Musica, secondo in vera scienza dell’ Armonia,” is that in which he unfolds the nature of this discovery, and deduces many observations tending to explain the musical scale, and, in the opinion of some persons, to correct several of the intervals of which it is composed.

[26] For Tartini’s judicious letter of elementary hints, addressed to Madame Sirmen, see the chapter on _Female Violinists_.

[27] Query, _Solo_?—PRINTER’S IMP.

[28] See the reference to the old sacerdotal habit of fiddling, at page 55.

[29] In his “Sonate Accademiche,” _opera seconda_, published in London, 1744, we meet (observes Mr. G. F. Graham), on the page immediately preceding the music, with the first example we have noticed in _Sonate_ of that time, of an explanation of marks of bowing and expression that occur in the course of the work. His marks for _crescendo-diminuendo_, and for _diminuendo_, and for _crescendo_, are of the same form as the modern ones—only _black_ throughout.—His mark for an up-bow consists of a vertical line drawn from the interior of a semi-circle placed beneath it. His mark for a down-bow is the same figure reversed in position;—Mʳ. for _mordente_, &c. These are things worth noticing in old music. In pages 67-9, of the same work, Veracini gives the Scottish air of Tweedside, with variations; the first instance we know, of Scottish music being so honored by an old Italian violinist.

[30] “I cannot understand how _Arts_ and _Sciences_ should be subject unto any such fantastical, giddy, or inconsiderate toyish conceits, as ever to be said to be _in fashion_, or _out of fashion_.”—_Mace’s Music’s Monument._

[31] It was remarked, while he was in England, that his execution was astonishing, but that he dealt occasionally in such tricks as tended to excite the risible faculty, rather than the admiration, of his auditors.

[32] Voltaire’s contempt for _bad_ playing seems to have equalled his indifference towards _good_, as may be evidenced in the following lines from his caustic pen:—

toi, dont le violon
Sous un archêt maudit par Apollon
D’un ton si dur a _ráclé_, &c.

[33] Michael Kelly, who heard this artist at Vienna, on his return from Russia, makes the following mention of him:—

“Giornovick, who was on his way from Russia to Paris, had been many years first concerto-player at the court of Petersburgh. He was a man of a certain age, but in the full vigour of talent: his tone was very powerful, his execution most rapid, and his taste, above all, alluring. No performer, in my remembrance, played such pleasing music. He generally closed his concertos with a rondo, the subject of which was some popular Russian air, to which he composed variations, with enchanting taste.”

[34] Apropos of this deficiency of English, I find an anecdote in the book of Parke, the oboist. He is describing the return from a dinner-party.—“When we arrived at Tottenham-court Road, there being several coaches on the stand, one was called for Jarnovicki, to convey him home; but, on its coming up, although he had been in London several years, he could not muster up English enough to name the street in which he lived; and, none of the party knowing his residence, it produced a dilemma, in which he participated, till, suddenly recollecting himself, he broke out singing, _Marlbrouk s’en va-t-en guerre_, which enabled his English friends to direct the coachman to Marlborough Street.”

[35] Parke, also, mentions the occurrence of this dispute, and the challenge—stating, as the occasion, that Shaw had refused to leave his proper station in the orchestra, to accompany Giornovichi.

[36] Authentic editions of these charming productions will be found in the Catalogue of the Messrs. Robert Cocks and Co. who are the sole publishers of Viotti’s Duos and Trios.

[37] It has been asserted that the _wire_ of his fourth string was particularly fine and close, to ensure greater smoothness of surface, and facilitate the sliding of the fingers.

[38] It is right to add here, that M. Guhr has subsequently reduced to a system the results of his investigation into the peculiarities of Paganini’s playing, and, illustrating the whole with copious examples, has published it in a special work, of which an English version, under the title of “Paganini’s Method of Playing the Violin,” has been put forth by Messrs. Cocks and Co. The work is a curiosity in its kind, and lays open, perhaps, as many of the great Artist’s labyrinthine recesses, as could well be traced upon paper, for the guidance of those who would toil in his track. Many of the difficulties thus exhibited to view, are truly astounding—difficulties that look as inexpugnable as the fortifications of Gibraltar! The _simultaneous four A’s flat_, do “puzzle the will,” while the _artificial double harmonics_, and other eagle-flights, cause an aching of “the mind’s eye,” in the attempt to follow them. Ordinary students, in beholding such things, may well experience a double shake of apprehension; but those of more energetic fibre, and devoted patience, should by no means despair of attaining, at least, a partial success in the undertaking.

Among the mechanical resources employed by Paganini, as essential for the production of his extraordinary effects, M. Guhr mentions the peculiar smallness or thinness of his strings—a quality the _reverse_ of advantageous, as regards the _usual_ course of playing,—and his frequent habit of screwing up his G string to B flat, through which device certain passages, otherwise unmanageable, were brought within the scope of possibility. Ordinary strings would resent this freedom of treatment by a _snap_; but those of Paganini were, it seems, expressly fitted and prepared for their _higher_ duty, in a way which M. Guhr minutely explains.

[39] When Paganini was afterwards in England, it was observed by a rigid time-keeper, who happened to attend one of his Concerts (at Winchester), that his own portion of the performance, for which the requital was the sum of £200, occupied just twenty-eight minutes.

[40] Duranowski, the Pole.

[41] M. Fétis, in his _Notice Biographique_, enters into a defence of Paganini in this matter—explains the advantages of the _contract_ system, as liberating the artist from the petty cares that pertain to concert-giving—and clears Paganini from the imputation of sordid motives.

[42] _Some_ enlightenment on this point may be derived from a scrutiny of M. Guhr’s Work, already referred to.

[43] Dr. Bennati read, before the _Royal Academy of Sciences_, at Paris, a physiological notice of this extraordinary man, in which he gave it as _his_ opinion, that his prodigious talent was mainly to be attributed to the peculiar conformation which enabled him to bring his elbows close together, and place them one over the other, to the elevation of his left shoulder, which was an inch higher than the right; to the slackening of the ligaments of the wrist, and the mobility of his phalanges, which he could move in a lateral direction at pleasure. Dr. Bennati also alluded to the excessive development of the cerebellum, as connected with the extraordinary acuteness of his organs of hearing, which enabled him to hear conversations carried on in a low tone, at considerable distance.—M. Geoffroy St. Hilaire remarked that he had been particularly struck with the prominence of the artist’s forehead, which hung over his deeply-seated eyes like a pent-house.

[44] “_De l’Opéra en France._”

[45] Of harmony, or of fine melody, or of the higher relations between poetry and music, the ostentatious Louis appears to have had no conception. In a case of rivalry, wherein Battista, a scholar of Corelli’s, played against one of the French band who was an ordinary performer, he (the royal Auditor) preferred an air in “Cadmus” (an opera of Lully’s, and not one of his best), as given by the Frenchman, to a solo (probably of Corelli’s) by the Italian,—saying, “Voila mon gout, à moi; Voila mon gout!”

[46] “Jamais homme n’à porté si haut l’art de jouer du violon: et cet instrument était plus agréable entre ses mains qu’aucun autre de ceux qui plaisent le plus.”—_Moreri, Dict. Historique._

[47] The above anecdote suggests another, of a somewhat similar cast, pertaining to the great Musical Commemoration at Westminster Abbey, in 1791. A person falling upon a double bass, as it lay on its side, immediately disappeared—nothing being seen of him, except his legs protruding out of the instrument; and for some time no one could assist him, owing to the laughter occasioned by his predicament!

[48] “Paris est le foyer musical de la France: les astres les plus brillans roulent dans cette région préférée; mais hélas! leurs rayons ne portent pas la lumière une grande distance. A peine sommes nous sortis des portes de cette capitale, que nous tombons soudain dans une obscurité profonde.”—(_Castil-Blaze, de l’Opéra en France._)

[49] “_Equisse de l’Histoire du Violon._”

[50] The universal diffusion of musical tendencies among the Germans has been often made the subject of remark. A late traveller, visiting the Theatre at Cassel, says that the orchestra there was half filled with _officers_, who fiddled in their regimental uniform, without considering the practice as at all derogatory from their dignity.

[51] Dr. Burney remarks that Geminiani used to claim the _invention_ of the half-shift on the violin, and that he probably first brought it to England; but that the Italians ascribed it to Vivaldi, and others to the elder Matteis, who came hither in King William’s time.

[52] Of _Tassenberg_, a fine player, who came over to England with William Cramer, little can be said. As he fell speedily into obscurity, I place him here below in a note. With capacity for achieving a position, but with no prudence for its retention, he endured much misery through his own reckless follies. To some one who was once enquiring where he _lived_, the reply was, “In and about the brick-kilns at Tothill-Fields.”

[53] Apropos of the violoncello—let us here bestow a passing glance on the name of _Merk_, distinguished more recently than that of Bernard Romberg, in connection with the larger instrument. Merk seems to have made a closer approach to our eminent Robert Lindley, in quality of taste, than in firmness of hand, or brilliancy of tone. Mr. Novello, who has rated him higher than any of our players, _except_ Lindley, adds a remark with reference to the _double basses_ used in Germany—that they have frequently, instead of _three_ strings, a complement of _four_, thinner than those in use with us, and descending to E below the usual scale—and that, when mixed with other instruments of the same class, the depth and richness they produce are very fine.

[54] Life of Anthony à Wood, Oxford, 1772, p. 88, &c.

[55] In process of time, these compositions likewise were supplanted by Martini’s Concertos and Sonatas, which, in their turn, were abandoned for the Symphonies of Van Malder, and the sonatas of the elder Stamitz. Afterwards, the trios of Campioni, Zanetti, and Abel came into play, and then the symphonies of Stamitz, Canabich, Holtzbauer, and other Germans, with those of Abel, Bach, and Giardini; which, having done their duty, “slept with their fathers,” and gave way to those of Vanhall, Pleyel, and Boccherini; and all have now gradually sunk into insignificance, eclipsed by the superior brightness and grandeur of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Cherubini, and some others, whose symphonies are the delight and wonder of the existing generation. So runs the changeful course of musical success!

[56] As a grandson of the individual here recorded, the writer of these pages may perhaps find licence to mention that there is extant in his family a fine portrait of Dubourg, by the Dutch painter Vander Smissen, interesting for the qualities of intelligence and good-humour that are blended in its expression.

[57] Vide “Records of a Stage Veteran,” in the New Monthly Magazine.

[58] As to this asserted advantage of resorting to _chemical agency_, the joke is somewhat of the oldest—so we may as well turn its coat, and it will then wear the aspect of the following

HINT TO PURCHASERS.

To buy a fiddle when about,
Your way unto a Chemist’s win,
Where, if but twelve-pence you lay out,
You’re sure to get a _vial_ “_in_.”

[59] Should there be any to whom the foregoing estimate (which aims at being a candid one) may seem to render imperfect justice to the claims it deals with, I can only remind them that they have the same freedom as myself to indulge their opinion, and to assert it. Nay, I will even furnish them with four measured lines, by way of a text from which to expand their own more propitious adjudication; provided only, that they will accept them as conceived in any other spirit than that of ill-nature, which is hereby wholly disavowed:—

Ask not how long shall flourish yet his fame,
Nor when shall cease the record of his glory!
Oblivion _dares not_ to efface his name,
Since e’en the _tomb_ cries out “_Memento Mori_!”

[60] “Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain.”—_Johnson._

[61] It must be borne in mind, that the three Quartett Concerts had been given, with Mr. Dando as Leader, at the Horn Tavern; and the four “Concerti da Camera,” at the Hanover Square Rooms;—that both parties had advertised their forthcoming series;—and that it was pretty extensively rumoured that the Blagrove, Gattie, Dando, and Lucas party had combined to try their fortune in the new field.

[62] In the getting-up of Concertos for the annual _Concours_ in Paris, the Violin students exercise a perseverance and length of labour truly surprising; and, in the result, such is the perfect manner in which the same Concerto is executed successively by sometimes a dozen candidates, that it would puzzle the most skilful judges to discriminate the individual to whom the prize should be awarded. In such cases, were it not for the subsequent resource—the safe and certain test of sight-playing, which brings into operation the intellect as well as the hand—it would perhaps be impossible to give a single decision that should not be open to dispute. Thus great is the power of execution which practice confers—and thus rigorous, the _need_ of that practice!

[63] If an Amateur, who is capable of murdering time, should yet have the grace of a disposition to offer some _apology_ for the act, I would suggest his quoting, for that purpose, the subjoined rhyming octave:—

“Cease, cease this fiddling,” cried Sir John,
To Ned, his tune-perplexing son—
“You _lose your time_, you idle lout.”
“No, sir, my time I keep, throughout.”
“Psha! _keep_ time! no, _kill_ time, you mean,”
Mutter’d the father, full of spleen.
“_Kill_ him! well, sure, sir, I’m no zany,
For killing him who has killed _so many_.”

[64] The injurious and disqualifying effect of musical vanity, complained of in France as well as here, is thus noticed by M. Castil-Blaze:—“Although music is every where taught to our youth, and is an art cultivated by a very considerable number of Amateurs, we find very few amongst them who are really useful with regard to playing in concert. And this proceeds, partly, from the fact of each individual desiring to occupy the first place. I have known violin-players renounce their instrument, because of finding themselves restricted to the _second part_. As for your _tenor_, it is a department not to be mentioned, and is left in the hands of those good elderly dullards who have already forgotten the half of what they never very well knew.”