wisest of men in all ages, not excepting Solomon himself, had their
hobby-horses--their running-horses, their coins and their
cockle-shells, their drums and their trumpets, their Fiddles, their
pallets, their maggots and their butterflies? And so long as a man
rides his hobby-horse peaceably and quietly along the king's highway,
and neither compels you nor me to get up behind him,--pray, sir, what
have either you or I to do with it?" He further tell us, "There is no
disputing against hobby-horses;" and adds, "I seldom do: nor could I,
with any sort of grace, had I been an enemy to them at the bottom;
happening at certain intervals and changes of the moon, to be both
Fiddler and painter."
[Illustration: _Plate XIX_. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. 1733. GIUSEPPE
GUARNERI DEL GESU. 1741. (LATE R. D. HAWLEY, ESQ.) ANTONIO STRADIVARI.
1726.]
The leading instrument is singularly favoured. It may be said to have
a double existence. In addition to its manifold capabilities, it has
its life of activity on the one hand, and inactivity on the other. At
one time it is cherished for its powers of giving pleasure to the ear,
at another for the gratification it affords to the eye. Sometimes it
is happily called upon to perform its double part--giving delight to
both senses. When this is so, its existence is indeed a happy one. The
Violin thus occupies a different position from all other musical
instruments. Far more than any other musical instrument it enters into
the life of the player. It may almost be said to live and move about
with him; the treasure-house of his tenderest and deepest emotions,
the symbol of his own better self. Moreover, the Violin is a curiosity
as well as a mechanical contrivance. Thus it is cherished, perhaps for
its old associations--it may have been the companion of a valued
friend, or it may be prized as a piece of artistic work, or it may be
valued, independently of other associations, for the simple purpose
for which it was made, viz., to answer the will of the player when
touched with the bow. The singular powers centred in the Violin have
been beautifully expressed by Oliver Wendell Holmes, who says:
"Violins, too. The sweet old Amati! the divine Stradivari! played on
by ancient maestros until the bow hand lost its power, and the flying
fingers stiffened. Bequeathed to the passionate young enthusiast, who
made it whisper his hidden love, and cry his inarticulate longings,
and scream his untold agonies, and wail his monotonous despair. Passed
from his dying hand to the cold _virtuoso_, who let it slumber in its
case for a generation, till, when his hoard was broken up, it came
forth once more, and rode the stormy symphonies of royal orchestras,
beneath the rushing bow of their lord and leader. Into lonely prisons
with improvident artistes; into convents from which arose, day and
night, the holy hymns with which its tones were blended; and back
again to orgies, in which it learned to howl and laugh as if a legion
of devils were shut up in it; then, again, to the gentle _dilettante_,
who calmed it down with easy melodies until it answered him softly as
in the days of the old maestros; and so given into our hands, its
pores all full of music, stained, like the meerschaum, through and
through with the concentrated hue and sweetness of all the harmonies
which have kindled and faded on its strings." The gifted author of
"The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" has evidently made himself
acquainted with the various life-phases of a Violin.
The fancy for the Violin as a curiosity has been a matter of slow
growth, and has reached its present proportions solely from the
intrinsic merits of its object. The Violin has not come suddenly to
occupy the attention of the curious, like many things that might be
named, which have served to satisfy a taste for the collection of what
is rare or whimsical, and to which an artificial value has been
imparted. In those days when the old Brescian and Cremonese makers
flourished, the only consideration was the tone-producing quality of
their instruments; the Violin had not then taken its place among
curiosities. The instruments possessing the desired qualities were
sought out until their scarcity made them legitimate food for the
curious. Beauties, hitherto passed over, began to be appreciated, the
various artistic points throughout the work of each valued maker were
noted, and in due time Violins had their connoisseurs as well as their
players.
Besides Italy, England, France, and Germany have had their great men
in the Fiddle world, whose instruments have ever been classed as
objects of _virtu_. Mace, in his "Musick's Monument," published in
1676, gives, perhaps, the earliest instance of curiosity prices in
England. "Your best provision (and most compleat) will be a good chest
of Viols; six in number, viz., two Basses, two Tenors, and two
Trebles, all truly and proportionally suited; of such there are no
better in the world than those of Aldred, Jay, Smith; (yet the highest
in esteem are) Bolles and Ross (one Bass of Bolles I have known valued
at 100 pounds). These were old." From the above curious extract we
glean that the Fiddle family was receiving some attention. The makers
in England whose instruments seem to have reached curiosity prices are
Bolles, Jay, Barak Norman, Duke, Wamsley, Banks, and Forster: the
value attached at different periods to the works of these men has
nearly approached the prices of Cremonese work. Of course, the high
value set upon the instruments of the makers above named was confined
to England.
Turning to France, we find that many of the old French makers'
instruments brought prices greatly in excess of their original cost.
The favourite French makers were Medard, Boquay, Pierray, of the old
school, and Lupot and Pique of the modern.
In Germany there have been makers whose works have brought very high
prices. Stainer, Albani, Widhalm, Scheinlein, are names that will
serve to associate high values with German work. In the case of Jacob
Stainer, the celebrity of his instruments was not confined to Germany;
they were highly prized by the English and French, and at one period
were more valued than the best Amatis. It was not until the vast
superiority of Italian Violins over all others was thoroughly
recognised, that the love of the instrument as a curiosity reached its
present climax. In Italy, the value set upon the chief Cremonese
works, though great, was comparatively insignificant, as far as the
Italians themselves are concerned, and when France and England came
into competition with them for the possession of their Violins by
Amati, Stradivari, Guarneri, and the gems of other makers, they at
once yielded the contest.
The introduction of Italian instruments into Great Britain was a
matter of slow growth, and did not assume any proportions worthy of
notice until the commencement of the present century, when London and
Paris became the chief marts from whence the rare works of the old
Italians were distributed over Europe. By this time the taste of the
Fiddle world had undergone a considerable change. The instruments in
use among the _dilettanti_ in France and England had hitherto been
those built on the German model of the school of Jacob Stainer. The
great German maker was copied with but little intermission for upwards
of a century, dating from about 1700 to 1800, a period of such
considerable extent as to evidence the popularity of the model. Among
the Germans who were following in the footsteps of Stainer were the
family of Kloz, Widhalm, Statelmann, and others of less repute. In
England there was quite an army of Stainer-worshippers. There were
Peter Wamsley, Barrett, Benjamin Banks, the Forsters, Richard Duke,
and a whole host of little men. Among the makers mentioned there are
three, viz., Banks, Forster, and Richard Duke, who did not copy
Stainer steadfastly. Their early instruments are of the German form,
but later they made many copies of the Cremonese. To Benjamin Banks we
are indebted for having led the English makers to adopt the pattern of
Amati. He had long laboured to popularise the school which he so much
loved, but met with little encouragement in the beginning, so strong
was the prejudice in favour of the high model. However, he triumphed
in the end, and completely revolutionised the taste in England, till
our Fiddle-fanciers became total ab-_Stainers_! Then commenced the
taste for instruments of flat form. Where were they to be found? If
the few by the early English makers be excepted, there were none but
those of the Italians to be had, and perhaps a few old French
specimens. Attention was thus directed to the works of the Cremonese,
and the year 1800 or thereabouts may be put down as the time when the
tide of Italian Violins had fairly set in towards France and England.
The instruments by the Amati were those chiefly sought after; the
amount of attention they commanded at this period was probably about
equal to that bestowed upon the works of Stradivari and Guarneri at
the present time. Violins of Amati and other makers were, up to this
time, obtainable at nominal prices. The number in Italy was far in
excess of her requirements, the demand made upon them for choir
purposes in former days had ceased, and the number of Violins was thus
quite out of proportion to the players. The value of an Amati in
England in 1799 and 1804 may be gathered from the following extracts
from the day-book of the second William Forster, who was a dealer as
well as maker--"20th April, 1799. A Violoncello by Nicholas Amati,
with case and bow, 17 pounds 17s. 0d.;" and further on--"5th July,
1804, an Amati Violin 31 pounds 10s. 0d." These prices were probably
less than those which William Forster received for many instruments of
his own make. It is certain that these low prices did not long
continue; the price increased in due proportion to the vanishing
properties of the supply. The call for Violins by the Amati was so
clamorous as speedily to effect this result; the prices for them were
doubled, trebled, and often quadrupled, until they no longer found a
home in their native land. The value set on them by the French and
English so far exceeded that which the Italians themselves could
afford, even though inclined to indulge in such things, that the
sellers were as eager to sell as the buyers to buy. During the time of
this scramble for instruments of Cremona, the theory of the flat model
was fast gaining ground. The circulation of the works of Cremona among
the players of France and England led to a comparison of the various
forms, and it was found that the elevated model was inferior in every
way when tested by the works of the great Italian makers. Hitherto no
distinction had been drawn as regards value among the productions of
the several members of the Amati family. Andrea had been looked upon
as equivalent to Girolamo, Antonio, or Niccolo; but attention now
began to be directed towards the works of the brothers, and to those
of Niccolo in particular, as the flat model gained in the appreciation
of the Fiddling world. Grand Amatis became the coveted Fiddles; they
were put up frequently at twice the value of the smaller patterns--a
position they still maintain. The taste for the flat form having thus
been developed, the works of Antonio Stradivari came to the front,
slowly but surely; their beauties now became known outside the circle
in which they had hitherto been moving: a circle made up chiefly of
royal orchestras (where they were used at wide intervals), convent
choirs, and private holders, who possessed them without being in the
least aware of their merits. They were now eagerly sought by soloists
in all parts of Europe, who spread their fame far and wide. Their
exquisite form and finish captivating the _dilettanti_, the demand
increased to an extent far beyond that commanded by the works of the
Amati at the height of their popularity.
There were a few Stradivari instruments in England when Amati was the
favourite maker, and their value at that period may be estimated, if
it be true that Cervetto, the father of the famous Violoncellist, was
unable to dispose of a Stradivari Violoncello for five pounds--a
circumstance which shows how blind our forefathers were to the merits
of the greatest maker the world has had. Among the artists of the
early part of the present century who used the instruments of
Stradivari were Boccherini, Viotti, Rode, Kreutzer, Habeneck, Mazas,
Lafont, and Baillot.
About the year 1820 the fame of Giuseppe Guarneri as a great maker was
published beyond Italy, chiefly through the instrumentality of
Paganini. That wonderful player came to possess a splendid specimen of
Guarneri del Gesu, dated 1743, now sleeping in the Museum at Genoa,
which Paganini used in his tour through France and England. He became
the owner of this world-famed Violin in the following curious manner.
A French merchant (M. Livron) lent him the instrument to play upon at
a concert at Leghorn. When the concert had concluded, Paganini brought
it back to its owner, when M. Livron exclaimed, "Never will I profane
strings which your fingers have touched; that instrument is yours." A
more fitting present or higher compliment could not have been offered.
The names of Amati and Stradivari became familiar to the musical world
gradually, but Guarneri, in the hands of a Paganini, came forth at a
bound. This illustrious Violin was often credited with the charm which
belonged to the performer; the magical effects and sublime strains
that he drew forth from it must, it was thought, rest in the Violin.
Every would-be Violinist, whose means permitted him to indulge in the
luxury, endeavoured to secure an instrument by the great Guarneri. The
demand thus raised brought forth those gems of the Violin-maker's art,
now in the possession of wealthy amateurs and a few professors. When
the various works of the gifted Guarneri were brought to light, much
surprise was felt that such treasures should have been known to such a
handful of obscure players, chiefly in the churches of Italy. The
Violin used by Paganini belongs to the last period of the great maker,
and consequently, is one of those bold and massive instruments of his
grandest conception, but lacks the beautiful finish of the middle
period. The connoisseurs of those days had associated Giuseppe
Guarneri with Violins of the type of Paganini's only; their surprise
was great when it was discovered that there were three distinct styles
in the works of Guarneri, one evidencing an artistic grandeur,
together with a high finish, but little inferior to those of Antonio
Stradivari. The marked difference between these epochs of Guarneri's
manufacture has led to a great amount of misconception. Fifty years
since, the world possessed little information on the subject, and the
connoisseur of those times could not believe it possible that these
varied styles emanated from one mind. The opportunities given to the
connoisseur of later days of comparing the various instruments of the
several epochs of Guarneri have set at rest all doubts concerning
them. They no longer require dates or labels; they are as easily
distinguished and classed as the works of Amati or Stradivari.
Attention was claimed for the works of Maggini by the charming Belgian
Violinist, Charles de Beriot, who, early admiring the large
proportions and powerful tone of Maggini's instruments, decided to use
one for public playing. That an artist so refined as De Beriot, and
one who attached so much importance to that sympathy between the
Violin and player which should make it the vehicle for presenting its
master's inward feelings, should have selected a Violin of large size,
and adapted for giving forth a great volume of tone, was a matter of
surprise to a great many of his contemporaries. Those who judged only
from his school of playing anticipated that he would have selected
Amati as embodying the qualities he so passionately admired. It is
certain, however, that he succeeded in bringing the penetrating power
of his Maggini thoroughly under his control. In the instruments of
Maggini, De Beriot doubtless recognised the presence of vast power,
together with no inconsiderable amount of purity of tone, and to bring
forth these qualities to the best advantage was with him a labour of
love. The popularity of Maggini's Violins rapidly raised their value.
Instruments that, before De Beriot made them widely known, might have
been purchased for ten pounds, realised one hundred. The Violin known
as "De Beriot's Maggini" remained in his possession till within a
short time of his death, when it was disposed of to his friend and
patron, the Prince de Chimay, it is said, for the enormous sum of six
hundred pounds--a price far in excess of the average value of
Maggini's instruments. In this instance, the association of De Beriot
with the instrument is sufficient, perhaps, to account for the rare
price set upon it.
We now reach the time when Carlo Bergonzi began to be regarded as a
maker of the first class. As a Cremonese maker, he was one of the
latest to receive the attention to which his exceptional merits fairly
entitled him. To English connoisseurs belongs the credit of
appreciating this great maker.
The recognised merits of the makers already named naturally caused a
demand for Italian instruments generally. If the masters could not be
had, the pupils must be found; hence a whole host of Italian makers,
quite unknown in England fifty years since, became familiar to the
connoisseur. The works of Guadagnini, Gagliano, Grancino, Santo
Serafino, Montagnana, and others whose names it is unnecessary to
give, passed from Italy into France and England, until the various
schools of Italian Violin manufacture were completely exhausted. When
we look back, it is surprising that so much has been achieved in such
a brief space of time. The knowledge of Italian works in 1800 was of
the slenderest kind, both in France and England; in less than
three-quarters of a century those countries contrived to possess
themselves of the finest specimens of Cremonese instruments, together
with those of other Italian schools. We here have an example of the
energy and skill that is brought to bear upon particular branches of
industry when once a demand sets in. Men of enterprise rise with it
unnoticed, and lead the way to the desired end. In the case of Italian
Violins it was Luigi Tarisio who acted as pioneer--a being of singular
habits, whose position in the history of the Violin, considered as a
curiosity, is an important one. This remarkable man was born of humble
parents, wholly unconnected with the musical art. In due time he chose
the trade of a carpenter, which vocation he followed with assiduity,
if not with love. He amused himself during his leisure hours in
acquiring a knowledge of playing on the Violin--an accomplishment that
was destined to exercise an influence on his future life, far greater
than was ever contemplated by the young carpenter. That his playing
was not of a high order may be readily imagined: it was confined
chiefly to dance-music, with which he amused his friends, Fiddling to
their dancing. His first Violin was a very common instrument, but it
served to engender within him that which afterwards became the ruling
passion of his life. His study of this little instrument was the seed
from which grew his vast knowledge of Italian works. So much was his
attention absorbed by the form of the instrument that any skill in
playing upon it became quite a secondary consideration. He endeavoured
to see all the Violins within his reach, and to observe their several
points of difference. The passion for old Violins, thus awakened,
caused him to relinquish his former employment entirely, and to devote
the whole of his attention to the art which he so loved. He soon
became aware of the growing demand for Italian works, and felt that,
possessed with a varied and proficient knowledge of the different
styles of workmanship belonging to the Italian schools of
Violin-making, he could turn his present acquirements to a profitable
as well as pleasurable use. He resolved to journey in search of hidden
Cremonas. His means were, indeed, very limited. His stock-in-trade
consisted only of a few old Violins of no particular value. With these
he commenced his labours, journeying in the garb of a pedlar, on foot,
through Italian cities and villages, and often playing his Violin in
order to procure the bare means of existence. Upon entering a village
he endeavoured to ingratiate himself with the villagers, and thus
obtain information of the whereabouts of any inhabitants who were
possessed of any member of the Fiddle family, his object being to
examine and secure, if possible, such instruments as were possessed of
any merit. It can readily be conceived that at the commencement of the
present century, numbers of valuable Cremonese and other instruments
were in the hands of very humble people. Luigi Tarisio knew that such
must be the case, and made the most of his good fortune in being the
first connoisseur to visit them. His usual method of trading was to
exchange with the simple-minded villagers, giving them a Violin in
perfect playing order for their shabby old instrument that lacked all
the accessories. It was indeed the case of Aladdin's Lamp, and as
potent were these Fiddles as the wonderful lamp or ring itself. In the
possession of Luigi Tarisio they drew forth from the purses of the
wealthy gold that would have enabled the humble villagers to have
ceased labour. It is an axiom, however, that everything on this earth
is only of value providing it is in its proper place, and these rare
old instruments, in the keeping of the poor peasants, could scarcely
be considered to be in their proper element; their ignorant possessors
were alike unable to appreciate their sterling worth, as works of art,
or their powers of sound. Luigi Tarisio, after gathering together a
number of old rarities, made for his home, and busied himself in
examining the qualities of his stock, selecting the best works, which
he laid aside. With the residuum of those instruments he would again
set out, using them as his capital wherewith to form the basis of
future transactions among the peasantry and others. He visited the
numerous monasteries throughout Italy that he might see the valuable
specimens belonging to the chapel orchestras. He found them often in a
condition ill becoming their value, and tendered his services to
regulate and put them into decent order--services gladly accepted and
faithfully performed by the ardent connoisseur. By the handling of
these buried treasures, his knowledge and experience were greatly
extended. Makers hitherto unknown to him became familiar. When he met
with instruments apparently beyond the repairer's skill, he would make
tempting offers of purchase, which were often accepted. Having
accumulated many instruments of a high order during these journeys, he
began to consider the best means of disposing of them. He decided upon
visiting Paris. He took with him the Violins he valued least,
resolving to make himself acquainted with the Parisian Fiddle market
before bringing forth his treasures. It is said that he undertook his
journey on foot, depriving himself often of the common necessaries of
life, that he might have more money to buy up his country's Fiddles.
His first visit to Paris was in 1827, an eventful year in the history
of Italian Violins, as far as relates to Paris. Upon arriving in the
French capital, he directed his steps to the nearest luthier, one
Aldric, to whom he had been recommended as a purchaser of old
instruments of high value. Upon arriving at the shop of M. Aldric,
Tarisio hesitated before entering, feeling suddenly that his
appearance was scarcely in keeping with his wares, his clothes being
of the shabbiest description, his boots nearly soleless, and his
complexion, naturally inclined to blackness, further darkened by the
need of ordinary ablutions. However, he set aside these thoughts, and
introduced himself to the luthier as having some Cremona Violins for
sale. Aldric regarded him half-contemptuously, and with a silent
intent to convey to Tarisio that he heard what he said, but did not
believe it. The Italian, to the astonishment of the luthier, was not
long in verifying his statement; he opened his bag and brought forth a
beautiful Niccolo Amati, of the small pattern, in fine preservation,
but having neither finger-board, strings, nor fittings of any kind.
The countenance of the luthier brightened when he beheld this
unexpected specimen of the Italian's wares. He carefully examined it,
and did his best to disguise the pleasurable feelings he experienced.
He demanded the price. The value set on it was far in excess of that
he had anticipated; he erroneously arrived at the probable cost from
an estimate of the shabby appearance of the man. He had been
comforting himself that the Italian was unaware of the value put upon
such instruments. He decided to see further the contents of the bag
before expressing an opinion as to the price demanded for the Amati.
Violins by Maggini, Ruggeri, and others, were produced--six in number.
Tarisio was asked to name his price for the six. After much giving and
taking they became the property of the luthier. This business was not
regarded as satisfactory by Tarisio; he had overestimated the value of
his goods in the Paris market; he had not learned that it was he
himself who was to create the demand for high-class Italian
instruments by spreading them far and wide, so that their incomparable
qualities might be observed. He returned to Italy with his ardour
somewhat cooled; the ready sale at the prices he had put upon his
stock was not likely to be realised, he began to think. However, with
the proceeds of his Paris transaction he again started in search of
more Cremonas, with about the same satisfactory results. He resolved
to visit Paris again, taking with him some of his choicest specimens.
He reached the French capital with a splendid collection--one that in
these days would create a complete _furore_ throughout the world of
Fiddles. He extended his acquaintance with the Parisian luthiers,
among whom were MM. Vuillaume, Thibout, and Chanot senior. They were
all delighted with the gems that Tarisio had brought, and encouraged
him to bring to France as many more as he could procure, and at
regular intervals. He did so, and obtained at each visit better
prices.
[Illustration: _Plate XX_. GASPARO DA SALO. (LATE LORD AMHERST OF
HACKNEY.) GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. 1735. (PRINCE FREDERICK WILLIAM
OF PRUSSIA.)]
This remarkable man may be said to have lived for nought else but his
Fiddles. Mr. Charles Reade, who knew him well, says:[1] "The man's
whole soul was in Fiddles. He was a great dealer, but a greater
amateur; he had gems by him no money would buy from him." It is
related of him that he was in Paris upon one occasion, walking along
the Boulevards with a friend, when a handsome equipage belonging to a
French magnate passed, the beauty of which was the talk of the city.
Tarisio's attention being directed to it by his friend, he calmly
answered him that "_he would sooner possess one 'Stradivari' than
twenty such equipages_." There is a very characteristic anecdote of
Tarisio, which is also related by Mr. Reade in his article on Cremona
Violins, entitled the "Romance of Fiddle-dealing":
"Well, one day Georges Chanot, senior, made an excursion to Spain, to
see if he could find anything there. He found mighty little, but
coming to the shop of a Fiddle-maker, one Ortega, he saw the belly of
an old Bass hung up with other things. Chanot rubbed his eyes, and
asked himself was he dreaming? the belly of a Stradivari Bass roasting
in a shop window! He went in, and very soon bought it for about forty
francs. He then ascertained that the Bass belonged to a lady of rank.
The belly was full of cracks; so, not to make two bites of a cherry,
Ortega had made a nice new one. Chanot carried this precious fragment
home and hung it up in his shop, but not in the window, for he was too
good a judge not to know that the sun will take all the colour out of
that maker's varnish. Tarisio came in from Italy, and his eye lighted
instantly on the Stradivari belly. He pestered Chanot till the latter
sold it him for a thousand francs, and told him where the rest was.
Tarisio no sooner knew this than he flew to Madrid. He learned from
Ortega where the lady lived, and called on her to see it. 'Sir,' says
the lady, 'it is at your disposition.' That does not mean much in
Spain. When he offered to buy it, she coquetted with him, said it had
been long in her family; money could not replace a thing of that kind,
and, in short, she put on the screw, _as she thought_, and sold it him
for about four thousand francs. What he did with the Ortega belly is
not known; perhaps sold it to some person in the toothpick trade. He
sailed exultant for Paris with the Spanish Bass in a case. He never
let it go out of his sight. The pair were caught by a storm in the Bay
of Biscay; the ship rolled; Tarisio clasped his Bass tightly and
trembled. It was a terrible gale, and for one whole day they were in
real danger. Tarisio spoke of it to me with a shudder. I will give you
his real words, for they struck me at the time, and I have often
thought of them since. '_Ah, my poor Mr. Reade, the Bass of Spain was
all but lost!_'
"Was not this a true connoisseur--a genuine enthusiast? Observe, there
was also an ephemeral insect called Luigi Tarisio, who would have gone
down with the Bass; but that made no impression on his mind. _De
minimis non curat Ludovicus!_
"He got it safe to Paris. A certain high-priest in these mysteries,
called Vuillaume, with the help of a sacred vessel, called the
glue-pot, soon re-wedded the back and sides to the belly, and the Bass
now is just what it was when the ruffian Ortega put his finger in the
pie. It was sold for 20,000 fr. (800 pounds). I saw the Spanish Bass
in Paris twenty-five years ago, and you can see it any day this month
you like, for it is the identical Violoncello now on show at
Kensington numbered 188. Who would divine its separate adventures, to
see it all reposing so calm and uniform in that case?--_Post tot
naufragia tutus_."
[Footnote 1: "Cremona Violins," _Pall Mall Gazette_, August, 1872.]
The love of Tarisio for the masterpieces of the great makers was so
intense, that often when he had parted with the works he so admired,
he never lost sight of them, and waited a favourable opportunity for
again making himself their owner.
It is related of him that upon one occasion he disposed of a beautiful
Stradivari, in perfect preservation, to a Paris dealer. After having
done so he hungered for it again. For years he never visited Paris
without inquiring after his old favourite, and the possibility of its
again being offered for sale, that he might regain possession of it.
At last his perseverance was rewarded, inasmuch as he heard that it
was to be bought. He instructed his informant to obtain for him a
sight of it. The instrument was fetched, and Tarisio had scarcely
patience enough to wait the opening of the case, so anxious was he to
see his old companion. He eagerly took up the Violin, and turned it
over and over, apparently lost to all about him, when suddenly his
keen eye rested upon a damage it had received, which was hidden by new
varnish. His heart sank within him; he was overcome by this piece of
vandalism. In mingled words of passion and remorse he gave vent to his
feelings. He placed it in its case, remarking sadly that it had no
longer any charm for him.
In the year 1851 Tarisio visited England, when Mr. John Hart, being
anxious that he should see the chief collections of Cremonese
instruments in this country, accompanied him to the collection,
amongst others, of the late Mr. James Goding, which was then the
finest in Europe. The instruments were arranged on shelves at the end
of a long room, and far removed from them sat the genuine enthusiast,
patiently awaiting the promised exhibition. Upon Mr. Goding taking out
his treasures he was inexpressibly astonished to hear his visitor
calling out the maker of each instrument before he had had time to
advance two paces towards him, at the same time giving his host to
understand that he thoroughly knew the instruments, the greater number
having been in his possession. Mr. Goding whispered to a friend
standing by, "Why, the man must certainly smell them, he has not had
time to look." Many instruments in this collection Tarisio seemed
never tired of admiring. He took them up again and again, completely
lost to all around--in a word, spell-bound. There was the "King"
Guarneri--the Guarneri known as Lafont's--the beautiful Bergonzi
Violin--the Viola known as Lord Macdonald's--General Kidd's Stradivari
Violoncello--the Marquis de la Rosa's Amati--Ole Bull's Guarneri--the
Santo Serafino 'Cello--and other remarkable instruments too numerous
to mention. Who can say what old associations these Cremona gems
brought to his memory? For the moment, these Fiddles resolved
themselves into a diorama, in which he saw the chief events of his
life played over again. With far greater truthfulness than that which
his unaided memory could have supplied, each Fiddle had its tale to
relate. His thoughts were carried back to the successful energies of
his past.
Tarisio may be said to have lived the life of a hermit to the time of
his death. He had no pleasures apart from his Fiddles; they were his
all in this world. Into his lodgings, in the Via Legnano, near the
Porta Tenaglia, in Milan, no living being but himself was ever
permitted to enter.[2] His nearest neighbours had not the least
knowledge of his occupation. He mounted to his attic without
exchanging a word with any one, and left it securely fastened to start
on his journeys in the same taciturn manner. He was consequently
regarded as a mysterious individual, whose doings were unfathomable.
The time, however, has arrived when the veil hiding the inner life of
this remarkable man should be lifted, and here I am indebted for
particulars to Signor Sacchi, of Cremona, who received them from a
reliable source. Tarisio had been seen by his ever-watchful neighbours
to enter his abode, but none had noticed him quit it for several days.
The door was tried and found locked; no answer was returned to the
sundry knockings. That Tarisio was there the neighbours were
convinced. The facts were at once brought under the notice of the
municipal authorities, who gave instructions that an entry should be
made by force into the mysterious man's apartment. The scene witnessed
was indeed a painful one. On a miserable couch rested the lifeless
body of Luigi Tarisio; around, everything was in the utmost disorder.
The furniture of the apartment consisted mainly of a chair, table, and
the couch upon which lay the corpse. A pile of old Fiddle-boxes here
and there, Fiddles hung around the walls, others dangling from the
ceiling, Fiddle-backs, Fiddle-heads, and bellies in pigeon-holes;
three Double-Basses tied to the wall, covered with sacking. This was
the sight that met the gaze of the authorities. Little did they
imagine they were surrounded with gems no money would have bought from
their late eccentric owner. Here were some half-dozen Stradivari
Violins, Tenors, and Violoncellos, the chamber Gasparo da Salo
Double-Bass now in the possession of Mr. Bennett, and the Ruggeri now
belonging to Mr. J. R. Bridson, besides upwards of one hundred Italian
instruments of various makers, and others of different nationalities.
All these were passed over by the visitors as so much rubbish in their
search for something more marketable. At last they alighted on a
packet of valuable securities together with a considerable amount of
gold. A seal was placed upon the apartment, pending inquiries as to
the whereabouts of the dead man's relatives. In due time, some nephews
came forth and laid claim to the goods and chattels of the Italian
Fiddle connoisseur.
[Footnote 2: The house is now turned, with those adjoining, into a
manufactory. When Luigi Tarisio lived there it was a small restaurant,
similar to those seen in the side streets of Soho.]
Luigi Tarisio died in October, 1854. Three months later, upon the news
being communicated to M. Vuillaume, of Paris, he soon set out for
Milan, and had the good fortune to secure the whole of the collection,
at a price which left him a handsome profit upon the transaction,
besides the pleasurable feeling of becoming the possessor of such a
varied and remarkable number of instruments.
Having given the reader all the information I have been able to
collect concerning Tarisio, I will only add that he had advantages
over all other connoisseurs, inasmuch as he found the instruments
mostly in their primitive condition, and free from any tampering as
regards the labels within them. He was thus enabled to learn the
characteristics of each without fear of confusion. The days of taking
out the labels of unmarketable names and substituting marketable
counterfeits had not arrived.
The principal buyers of Italian instruments on the Continent, when
dealing in this class of property was in its infancy, were Aldric, MM.
Chanot senior, Thibout, Gand, Vuillaume of Paris, and Vuillaume of
Brussels. In London, among others, were Davis, Betts, Corsby, and John
Hart. There is yet another, the omission of whose name would be a
blemish in any notice of the Violin and its connoisseurs. I refer to
Mr. Charles Reade, the novelist, who in early life took the highest
interest in old Italian Violins. We are indebted to him in a great
measure for bringing into this country many of the most beautiful
specimens we possess. Impressed with the charms of the subject, he
visited the Continent for the pleasure it afforded him of bringing
together choice specimens, and thus opened up the intercourse between
England and the Continent for the interchange of old Violins which
continues to this day. It would be difficult to find an instance where
the intricacies of the subject were so quickly mastered as in his
case. Without assistance, but solely from his own observation, he
gained a knowledge which enabled him to place himself beside the Chief
Continental connoisseurs, and compete for the ownership of Cremonese
masterpieces. These were the men who laid bare the treasures of
Cremona's workshops, and spread far and wide love and admiration for
the fine old works. Connoisseurship such as theirs is rare. To a keen
eye was united intense love of the art, patience, energy, and memory
of no ordinary kind, all of them attributes requisite to make a
successful judge of Violins.
Charles Lamb, on being asked how he distinguished his "ragged
veterans" in their tattered and unlettered bindings, answered, "How
does a shepherd know his sheep?" It has been observed that, "Touch
becomes infinitely more exquisite in men whose employment requires
them to examine the polish of bodies than it is in others. In music
only the simplest and plainest compositions are relished at first; use
and practice extend our pleasure--teach us to relish finer melody, and
by degrees enable us to enter into the intricate and compounded
pleasure of harmony." Thus it is with connoisseurship in Violins.
Custom and observation, springing from a natural disposition, make
prominent features and minute points of difference before unseen,
resulting in a knowledge of style of which it has been well said
"Every man has his own, like his own nose."
As an ardent votary of the Violin, regarded from a point of view at
once artistic and curious, Count Cozio di Salabue takes precedence of
all others. He was born about the time when the art of Italian
Violin-making began to show signs of decadence, and having cultivated
a taste for Cremonese instruments, he resolved to gratify his passion
by bringing together a collection of Violins which should be
representative of the work and character of each maker, and serve as
models to those seeking to tread the path of the makers who made
Cremona eminent as a seat of Violin manufacture. Virtuosity emanating
from a spirit of beneficence is somewhat rare. When, however, utility
occupies a prominent place in the thoughts of the virtuoso, he becomes
a benefactor. The virtuosity of Count Cozio was of this character. His
love for Cremonese instruments was neither whimsical nor transient.
From the time when he secured the contents of the shop of Stradivari
to the end of his life--a period of about fifty years--he appears to
have exerted himself to obtain as much information as possible
relative to the art, and to collect masterpieces that they might in
some measure be the means of recovering a lost art. When in the year
1775 he secured ten instruments out of ninety-one which Stradivari
left in his shop at the time of his death, he must surely have
considered himself singularly fortunate, and the happiest of
collectors.[3] That such good fortune prompted him to make fresh
overtures of purchase cannot be wondered at. We learn from the
correspondence of Paolo Stradivari that the Count had caused two
letters to be sent by the firm of Anselmi di Briata to Paolo inquiring
if he was willing to part with the tools and patterns used by his
father Antonio, and that Paolo replied on May 4, 1776: "I have already
told you that I have no objection to sell all those patterns,
measures, and tools which I happen to have in my possession, provided
that they do not remain in Cremona, and you will recollect that I have
shown you all the tools I have, and also the box containing the
patterns.... I place all at your disposal, and as it is simply a
friendly matter" (Paolo Stradivari appears to have had large dealings
in cloth and other goods with the firm of Anselmi di Briata, of
Casale, a small city on the Po), "I will give you everything for
twenty-eight giliati."[4] It does not appear that Paolo's
correspondents were moved in their answer by any feelings of
sentimentality or of friendship: on the contrary, the tone of the
letter was clearly commercial, they having made an offer of
twenty-three giliati less than demanded. Paolo Stradivari in his
reply, dated June 4, 1776, says: "Putting ceremony aside, I write in a
mercantile style. I see from your favour of the 13th ultimo (which I
only received by the last courier), that you offer me five giliati for
all the patterns and moulds which I happen to possess, as well as for
those lent to Bergonzi, and also for the tools of the trade of my late
father; but this is too little; however, to show you the desire I have
to please you, and in order that not a single thing belonging to my
father be left in Cremona, I will part with them for six giliati,
providing that you pay them at once into the hands of Domenico Dupuy &
Sons, silk stocking manufacturers. I will send you the things
above-mentioned, conditionally that I keep the five giliati and use
the other one to defray expenses for the case, the packing, and the
custom-house duty, which will be necessary to send them, and I shall
let you have back through Messrs. Dupuy, residing under the Market
Arcades in Turin, any balance that should remain, or (if you like) you
may pay the said Messrs. Dupuy seven giliati, and I shall then defray
all the expenses, and send also the two snake-wood bows which I
possess.--(Signed) PAOLO STRADIVARI."
[Footnote 3: These instruments and the tools appear to have been in
the possession of Paolo from the year 1743, when Francesco died, and
Paolo opened the shop in the Piazza S. Domenico as a cloth warehouse.
He therefore seems to have only decided to dispose of his father's
tools when he was in a feeble state of health, he having died, as
already noticed, before the purchase was settled, aged 68.]
[Footnote 4: A giliati was a Tuscan gold coin bearing the arms of
Florence, the value of which was 9s. 6-1/2d. Its present purchasing
power would probably be three times as much, and therefore the sum
asked by Paolo Stradivari would be equal to 38 pounds 12s. 10-1/2d.]
In reply to this interesting letter, Messrs. Anselmi di Briata appear
to have written accepting the terms offered by Paolo Stradivari, and
to have explained to him that they had been in treaty with a certain
Signor Boroni, relative to the purchase of a Violin, and having come
to terms they wished the instrument to be packed with the tools and
moulds. Paolo, in acknowledging this communication, June 25, 1776,
says: "In reply to your favour of the 10th instant, Signor Boroni will
hand me over the Violin upon hearing that the money has been paid to
Messrs. Dupuy. I shall then have no objection to place it in the same
case together with the patterns and implements left by my father."
From this and subsequent correspondence we learn that Messrs. Anselmi
di Briata, being wholesale traders, were in a suitable position to act
as intermediaries in the purchase of Violins on behalf of Count Cozio.
Their business necessitated their visiting Cremona, and thus they
appear to have seen the Violin of Signor Boroni, and also another
belonging to a monk or friar named Father Ravizza, both of which were
subsequently bought, as seen by the following extracts from a letter
of Paolo Stradivari:--
"Cremona, July 10, 1776. We learn from Messrs. Dupuy of the receipt of
the seven giliati, which you have paid on our account.... As we have
already prepared everything, we shall therefore inform Father Ravizza
and Signor Boroni; I have, however, to mention that I did not think I
possessed so many things as I have found. It being according to what
has been promised, it cannot be discussed over again.... It will be a
very heavy case, on account of the quantity of patterns and tools, and
consequently it will be dangerous to put the Violins in the same
package." The writer refers to the two instruments before mentioned:
"I fear without care they will let it fall in unloading it, and the
Violins will be damaged; I inform you therefore of the fact.... You
must let me know how I have to send the case. If by land, through the
firm of Tabarini, of Piacenza, or to take the opportunity of sending
by the Po." In passing, it may be remarked that the distance between
Cremona and Casale by the river Po is about sixty miles. The later
correspondence makes known the fact of the precious freight having
been consigned to the firm of Anselmi di Briata by way of the Po, and
that it was entrusted to the care and charge of a barge-master named
Gobbi.
It is by no means uncommon to discover the memories of men kept green
in our minds from causes strangely curious and unexpected. Many seek
to render their names immortal by some act the nature of which would
seem to be imperishable, and chiefly fail of their object; whilst
others, obscure and unthought of, live on by accident. Imagine the
paints and brushes, the pencils and palettes, the easel and the
sketches of Raffaele having been given over to a Po barge-master, and
that chance had divulged his name. Would he not in these days of
microscopic biography have furnished work for the genealogist, and
been made the subject of numberless pictures? Hence it is that the
admirers of Stradivari cannot fail to remember the name of honest
Gobbi, who carried the chest wherein were the tools with which the
Raffaele of Violin-making wrought the instruments which have served to
render his memory immortal.
Soon after the date of Paolo's last letter, he became seriously ill,
dying on the 9th of October, 1776. The correspondence was then taken
up by his son Antonio. He says in his letter dated November 21, 1776:
"I shall send you the case with the patterns and tools of my late
grandfather Antonio, which was packed and closed before my father was
bedridden. You will find it well-arranged, with mark on it, and with
red tape and seal as on the Violins already sent to you." He next
refers to other patterns which he found locked up in a chest and which
he believes were unknown or forgotten by his father, and offers to
dispose of them, with a Viola, and concludes by promising to send the
receipts, the copies of which show that the remnants of the tools and
patterns were bought for three giliati.
It is unnecessary in this place to make further reference to Count
Cozio as a collector, the chief information concerning him being
spread over the section of Italian makers. The facsimile of one of the
Count's letters here given will serve both as an interesting
remembrance of him and as evidence of his keen interest in all
relating to the art of which he was so distinguished a votary.
[Illustration: Letter of Count Cozio.]
Probably the earliest collector of Italian Violins in England was
William Corbett. He was a member of the King's orchestra, and having
obtained permission to go abroad, went to Italy in 1710, and resided
at Rome many years, where he is said to have made a rare collection of
music and musical instruments. How he managed to gratify his desire in
this direction seems not to have been understood by his friends, his
means, in their estimation, not being equal to such an expenditure.
Hence arose a report that he was employed by the Government to watch
the Pretender. Corbett died at an advanced age in 1748, and bequeathed
his "Gallery of Cremonys and Stainers" to the authorities of Gresham
College, with a view that they should remain for inspection under
certain conditions, leaving ten pounds per annum to an attendant to
show the instruments. Whether the wishes of the testator were carried
out in any way there is no information, but the instruments are said
to have been disposed of by auction a short time after his decease.
The principal early collectors in this country were the Duke of
Hamilton, the Duke of Cambridge, the Earl of Falmouth, the Duke of
Marlborough, Lord Macdonald, and a few others. Later, Mr. Andrew
Fountaine, of Narford Hall, Norfolk, became the owner of several fine
Italian instruments, and made himself better acquainted with the
subject, perhaps, than any amateur of his time. Among the Stradivari
Violins which Mr. Fountaine possessed was that which he purchased from
M. Habeneck, the famous professor at the Paris Conservatoire in the
early part of the nineteenth century. Another very fine specimen of
the late period, 1734, was also owned by him, a Violin of grand
proportions in a high state of preservation, and of the richest
varnish. The Guarneri Violins that he possessed were of a very high
class. Among these may be mentioned a very small Violin by Giuseppe
Guarneri, probably unique, which instrument was exhibited among the
Cremonese Violins at the South Kensington Museum in 1872, together
with another of the same size by Stradivari, and a third by the
brothers Amati.
The number of rarities brought together by the late Mr. James Goding
was in every respect remarkable. At one period he owned twelve
Stradivari Violins, and nearly the same number by Giuseppe Guarneri,
all high-class instruments. It would take up too much time and space
to name the particular instruments which were comprised in this
collection. The remnant of this group of Cremonese Fiddles was
dispersed by Messrs. Christie and Manson in 1857. Mr. Plowden's
collection was another remarkable one, consisting of eight instruments
of the highest class.
The late Joseph Gillott was a collector, who, in point of number,
exceeded all others. He did not confine himself solely to the works of
the greatest makers, but added specimens of every age and clime; and
at one time he must have had upwards of 500 instruments, the chief
part of which belonged to the Italian School. When it is remembered
that the vast multitude of stringed instruments disposed of by Messrs.
Christie and Manson in 1872 did not amount to one-half the number
originally owned by Mr. Gillott, some idea of the extent of his
collection may be gained. Among the many curious instances of the love
of collecting Violins, which sometimes possesses those unable to use
them, perhaps that of Mr. Gillott is the most singular.
Notable collections, be they of Fiddles, medals, pottery, or pictures,
have sometimes had their rise in accidents of a curious kind. Lord
Northwick dated his passion for coins to a bag of brass ones, which he
purchased in sport for eight pounds. His lordship ended by purchasing,
in conjunction with Payne Knight, the collection of Sir Robert
Ainslie, for eight thousand pounds, besides sharing with the same
collector the famous Sicilian coins belonging to the Prince
Torremuzza. The Gillott collection of Fiddles had its origin in a
picture deal. Mr. Gillott happened to be making terms in his gallery
at Edgbaston relative to an exchange of pictures with Edwin
Atherstone,[5] poet and novelist, who collected both Violins and
pictures. A difficulty arose in adjusting the balance, when Mr.
Atherstone suggested throwing a Fiddle in as a counterpoise. "That
would be to no purpose," remarked Mr. Gillott, "for I have neither
knowledge of music nor of the Fiddle." "I am aware of that," rejoined
his friend; "but Violins are often of extraordinary value as works of
art." Mr. Gillott, becoming interested in the subject, agreed to
accept the Fiddle as a make-weight, and the business was settled. A
few months later the floor of his picture gallery on all sides was
lined with cases, single and double, containing Violins in seemingly
endless profusion. It was about the year 1848 he conceived the notion
of bringing together this mammoth collection; and in about four years
he had made himself master of the largest number of Italian
instruments ever owned by a single individual. He suddenly
relinquished the pursuit he had followed with such persistency; he
disposed of a great number, and laid the remainder aside in his
steel-pen works at Birmingham, where they slumbered for upwards of
twenty years. The time at last arrived when this pile of Fiddles was
to be dispersed. It fell to my lot to classify them, and never shall I
forget the scene I witnessed. Here, amid the din of countless machines
busy shaping magnum-bonums, swan-bills, and divers other writing
implements, I was about to feast my eyes on some of the choicest works
of the old Italian Fiddle-makers. Passing through offices, warehouses,
and workshops, I found myself at a door which my conductor set himself
to unlock--an act not often performed, I felt assured, from the sound
which accompanied his deed. To adequately describe what met my eyes
when the door swung back on its hinges, is beyond my powers of
description. Fiddles here!--Fiddles there!--Fiddles everywhere, in
wild disorder! I interrogated my friend as to the cause of their being
in such an unseemly condition, and received answer that he had
instructions to remove most of the instruments from their cases and
arrange them, that I might better judge of their merits. I was at a
loss to understand what he meant by arranging, for a more complete
disarrangement could not have been effected. Not wishing to appear
unmindful of the kindly intentions of my would-be assistant, I thanked
him, inwardly wishing that this disentombment had been left entirely
to me. The scene was altogether so peculiar and unexpected as to be
quite bewildering. In the centre of the room was a large warehouse
table, upon which were placed in pyramids upwards of seventy Violins
and Tenors, stringless, bridgeless, unglued, and enveloped in the fine
dust which had crept through the crevices of the cardboard sarcophagi
in which they had rested for the previous quarter of a century. On the
floor lay the bows. The scene might not inappropriately be compared to
a post-mortem examination on an extended scale. When left alone I
began to collect my thoughts as to the best mode of conducting my
inquiry. After due consideration I attacked pyramid No. 1, from which
I saw a head protruding which augured well for the body, and led me to
think it belonged to the higher walks of Fiddle-life. With considerate
care I withdrew it from the heap, and gently rubbed the dust off here
and there, that I might judge of its breeding. It needed but little
rubbing to make known its character; it was a Viola by Giuseppe
Guarneri, filius Andreae, a charming specimen (now in the ownership of
the Earl of Harrington). Laying it aside, I pulled out from the pile
several others belonging to the same class. Being too eager to learn
of what the real merits of this huge pile of Fiddles consisted, I
rapidly passed from one to the other without close scrutiny, leaving
that for an after pleasure. So entirely fresh were these instruments
to me, that the delight I experienced in thus digging them out may
well be understood by the connoisseur. After thus wading through those
resting on the table, I discovered some shelves, upon which were a
number of cases, which I opened. Here were fine Cremonese instruments
in company with raw copies--as curious a mixture of good and
indifferent as could be well conceived. Not observing any
Violoncellos, when my attendant presented himself I inquired if there
were not some in the collection. I was unable to make him understand
to what I referred for some little time, but when I called them big
Fiddles, he readily understood. He had some faint idea of having seen
something of the kind on the premises, and started off to make
inquiry. Upon his return, I was conducted to an under warehouse, the
contents of which were of a varied character. Here were stored unused
lathes, statuary, antique pianos, parts of machinery, pictures, and
picture-frames. At the end of this long room stood, in stately form,
the "big Fiddles," about fifty in number--five rows, consequently ten
deep. They looked in their cases like a detachment of infantry
awaiting the word of command. Years had passed by since they had been
called upon to take active service of a pacific and humanising nature
in the ranks of the orchestra. Had they the power of speech, what
tales of heroism might they have furnished of the part they played at
the "Fall of Babylon" and the "Siege of Corinth," aye! and
"Wellington's Victory" (Beethoven, Op. 91). A more curious mixture of
art and mechanism could not easily be found than that which the
contents of this room exhibited. With what delight did I proceed to
open these long-closed cases! The character of the Violins naturally
led me to anticipate much artistic worth in the Violoncellos, and I
had not judged erroneously. Bergonzi, Amati, Andrea Guarneri, Cappa,
Grancino, Testore, Landolfi, and men of less note, were all well
represented in this army of big Fiddles. Having glanced at the merits
and demerits of these instruments, I observed to my conductor that I
imagined I had seen all. "No," he answered; "I was about to mention
that there are a few Violins at Mr. Gillott's residence, and perhaps
we had better go there at once." I readily assented, and in due time
reached Edgbaston. There seemed no doubt as to the whereabouts of
these instruments, and I was at once ushered into the late Mr.
Gillott's _bedroom_. Pointing to a long mahogany glazed case occupying
one side of the chamber, the attendant gave me to understand I should
there find the Violins. At once I commenced operations. Pushing aside
the first sliding door, I saw a row of those cardboard cases made to
hold the Violin only, which many of my readers will doubtless remember
seeing at the time of the sale at Messrs. Christie's. By this time it
may readily be imagined that an idea had taken possession of my mind,
that I had not, after all, seen the best portion of the collection.
The circumstance of Violins being deposited in the sleeping apartment
of their owner was sufficient to give birth to this conjecture. Upon
removing the lid of the first cardboard case, my eyes rested on a
charming Stradivari of the Amati period, a gem of its kind. Gently
laying it on the table, that I might examine it later, I opened the
next case. Here rested a magnificent Giuseppe Guarneri, the instrument
afterwards bought by Lord Dunmore, date 1732. Pursuing my delightful
occupation, I opened another case, the contents of which put the rest
completely in the shade--here rested the Stradivari, date 1715, the
gem of the collection. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I rapidly
opened sixteen cases in all, from which I took out six Stradivari, two
Guarneri, one Bergonzi, two Amati, and five other Violins of a high
class.
[Footnote 5: Edwin Atherstone, born 1788, died 1872; was the author of
"The Fall of Nineveh" and "The Last Days of Herculaneum," two poems in
blank verse, and of a novel, "The Sea Kings of England," of which Sir
Walter Scott wrote approvingly.]
It was observed at the time of the sale of this remarkable collection,
which took place shortly after the dispersion of Mr. Gillott's gallery
of pictures, that "Every well-ordered display of fireworks should have
its climax of luminous and detonating splendour, throwing into shade
all the preliminary squibs, crackers, and rockets, the Catherine
wheels, the Roman candles, and the golden rain. The French, with
modest propriety, term this consummation a _bouquet_." I cannot find
anything more applicable than this word to the scene I have attempted
to describe. It only remains for me to say, in reference to this array
of Fiddles, that I passed a week in their company, and a more
enjoyable one I have never had during my professional career.
Dr. Johnson, who understood neither Fiddling nor painting, who
collected neither coins nor cockle-shells, maggots nor butterflies,
was clearly of the same opinion as the author of "Tristram Shandy,"
that there is no disputing against hobby-horses. He says: "The pride
or the pleasure of making collections, if it be restrained by prudence
and morality, produces a pleasing remission after more laborious
studies; furnishes an amusement, not wholly unprofitable, for that
part of life, the greater part of many lives, which would otherwise be
lost in idleness or vice; it produces a useful traffic between the
industry of indigence and the curiosity of wealth, and brings many
things to notice that would be neglected."
SECTION XIV
Sketch of the Progress of the Violin
It may be said that the Violin made its appearance about the middle of
the sixteenth century. There are instances where reference is made to
Violins and Violin-playing in connection with times prior to that
above-named, but no reliance can be placed on the statements. Leonardo
da Vinci, who died in 1523, is spoken of as having been a celebrated
performer on the Violin. The instrument he used is described as having
had a neck of silver, with the singular addition of a carved horse's
head.[1] This description, however, is sufficiently anomalous to make
one rather sceptical, as to whether the instrument denoted possessed
any particular affinity to the present Violin. Reference is made to
the picture of the "Marriage at Cana," by Paolo Veronese, as
furnishing evidence of the form of instruments used in Italy in the
16th century, and a description is given of the musical part of the
subject as follows: "In the foreground, in the vacant space of the
semicircle formed by the table, at which the guests of the marriage at
Cana are seated, Titian is playing on the Double-Bass, Paolo Veronese
and Tintoretto on the Violoncello; a man with a cross on his breast is
playing on the Violin, Bassano is blowing the Flute, and a Turkish
slave the Sackbut."
[Footnote 1: "Lives of Haydn and Mozart," translated from the French
by L. A. C. Bombet. 1818.]
[Illustration: "The Marriage at Cana."]
The naming of the performers is presumably correct, and greatly
heightens our interest in the group musically. It is clear, however,
that the nomenclature of the instruments is erroneous. In the engraved
section of the famous picture here given, Paolo Veronese is
represented taking part in the performance of a Madrigal, wearing an
expression of countenance indicative of rapt pleasure, engendered by
the mingling of the tones of his Tenor Viol in the harmonies. Behind
Paolo Veronese is seated Tintoretto, playing an instrument identical
with that in the hands of the painter of the picture. On the opposite
side of the table is Titian, with the point of his bow almost touching
the dog, playing the fundamental tones on the Violono. He apparently
displays an amount of real relish for his task, which bespeaks a
knowledge of the responsibility belonging to the post of Basso. The
ecclesiastic seated next to Titian, wearing the chain with crucifix,
is performing on a Soprano Viol. The instruments, in short, are
Italian Viols, the Tenors of which were strung with six strings, and
the Violono, or Bass, with six or seven. It is this order of Viols to
which reference is made in the work of Ganassi del Fontego, and they
are, therefore, distinct from the four-stringed Viols made at Brescia
and Mantua.
The earliest player on the Violin of whom we have any account worthy
of attention was Baltazarini, a native of Piedmont. He removed to
France in the year 1577, whither he was sent by Marshal de Brissac to
superintend the music of Catherine de Medici. He was probably the
introducer of Italian dances into Paris, and he delighted the Court as
much by his skill on the Violin as by his writing of ballet music.
During the last half of the sixteenth century a new species of music
made way in Italy which exercised a marked effect on the progress of
the Violin, namely, that of the concert orchestra. It was chiefly
cultivated at Venice and Ferrara. At the latter place the Duke of
Ferrara maintained a great number of musicians in his service. At this
period there were no concerts of a public character; they were given
in the palaces of the wealthy, and the performers were chiefly those
belonging to their private bands.
The opera, in which instruments were used to accompany the voice,
began to be put upon the stage of the public theatres in Italy about
the year 1600. The opera "Orfeo," by Claudio Monteverde, a Cremonese,
famous both as a composer and Violist, was represented in 1608. The
opera in those times differed essentially from that of modern days.
Particular instruments were selected to accompany each character; for
instance, ten Treble Viols to accompany Eurydice, two Bass Viols to
Orpheus, and so on. No mention is made of Violins further than that
two small Violins (duoi Violini piccoli alla Francese) are to
accompany the character of Hope, from which it is inferred that a band
of Violins was in use not much later.
It is to the introduction of the Sonata that the rapid progress in the
cultivation of Violin-playing is due. Dr. Burney tells us the earliest
Sonatas or Trios for two Violins and a Bass he discovered were
published by Francesco Turini, organist of the Duomo, at Brescia,
under the following title: "Madrigali a una, due, e tre voci, con
alcune Sonate a due e a tre, Venezia, 1624." He says: "I was
instigated by this early date to score one of these Sonatas, which
consisted of only a single movement in figure and imitation
throughout, in which so little use was made of the power of the bow in
varying the expression of the same notes, that each part might have
been as well played on one instrument as another."
In this branch of composition Corelli shone forth with considerable
lustre, and gave great impetus to the culture of the Violin. It was at
Rome that his first twelve Sonatas were published, in 1683. In 1685
the second set appeared, entitled "Balletti da Camera"; four years
later the third set was published. The genius of Corelli may be said
to have revolutionised Violin-playing. He had followers in the chief
cities of Italy. There was Vitali at Modena, Visconti at Cremona (who,
it is said, tendered his advice to Stradivari upon the construction of
his instruments--advice, I think, little needed); Veracini at Bologna,
and a host of others. Dibdin, the Tyrtaeus of the British navy, said:
"I had always delighted in Corelli, whose harmonies are an assemblage
of melodies. I, therefore, got his Concertos in single parts, and put
them into score, by which means I saw all the workings of his mind at
the time he composed them; I so managed that I not only comprehended
in what manner the parts had been worked, but how, in every way, they
might have been worked. From this severe but profitable exercise, I
drew all the best properties of harmony, and among the rest I learnt
the valuable secret, that men of strong minds may violate to advantage
many of those rules of composition which are dogmatically imposed."
[Illustration: _Plate XXI_. ANTONIO STRADIVARI. 1690. (Made for Cosimo
III. de Medici, Grand Duke of Florence.)]
We must now retrace our steps somewhat, in order to allude to another
Violinist, who influenced the progress of the leading instrument out
of Italy, viz., Jean Baptiste Lulli. The son of a Tuscan peasant, born
in the year 1633, Lulli's name is so much associated with the romantic
in the history of Violin-playing that he has been deprived in a great
measure of the merits justly his due for the part he took in the
advancement of the instrument. The story of Lulli and the stew-pans[2]
bristles with interest for juvenile musicians, but the hero is often
overlooked by graver people, on account of his culinary associations.
When Lulli was admitted to the Violin band of Louis XIV., he found the
members very incompetent; they could not play at sight, and their
style was of the worst description. The king derived much pleasure
from listening to Lulli's music, and established a new band on purpose
for the composer, namely, "Les petits Violons," to distinguish it from
the band of twenty-four. He composed much music for the Court ballets
in which the king danced.
[Footnote 2: Lulli having shown a disposition for music, received some
instructions on the rudiments of the art from a priest. The Chevalier
de Guise, when on his travels in Italy, had been requested by
Mademoiselle de Montpensier, niece of Louis XIV., to procure for her
an Italian boy as page, and happening to see Lulli in Florence, he
chose him for that purpose, on account of his wit and vivacity, and
his skill in playing on the guitar. The lady, however, not liking his
appearance, sent him into her kitchen, where he was made an under
scullion, and amused himself by arranging the stew-pans in tones and
semitones, upon which he would play various airs, to the utter dismay
of the cook.]
Lulli contributed greatly to the improvement of French music. He wrote
several operas, and many compositions for the Church, all of which
served to raise the standard of musical taste in France. To him also
belongs the credit of having founded the French national opera.
We will now endeavour to trace the progress of the Violin in England.
It is gratifying to learn that, even in the primitive age of
Violin-playing, we were not without our national composers for the
instrument. Dr. Benjamin Rogers wrote airs in four parts for Violins
so early as 1653 (the year Corelli was born). John Jenkins wrote
twelve sonatas for two Violins and a Bass, printed in London in 1660,
which were the first sonatas written by an Englishman. About this date
Charles II. established his band of twenty-four Violins. During his
residence on the Continent he had frequent opportunities of hearing
the leading instrument, and seems to have been so much impressed with
its beauties that he set up for himself a similar band to that
belonging to the French Court. The leader was Thomas Baltzar, who was
regarded as the best player of his time. Anthony Wood met Baltzar at
Oxford, and says he "saw him run up his fingers to the end of the
finger-board of the Violin, and run them back insensibly, and all in
alacrity and in very good time, which he nor any one in England saw
the like before." Wood tells us that Baltzar "was buried in the
cloister belonging to St. Peter's Church in Westminster." The
emoluments attached to the Royal band, according to Samuel Pepys,
appear to have been somewhat irregular. In the Diary, December 19,
1666, we read: "Talked of the King's family with Mr. Kingston, the
organist. He says many of the musique are ready to starve, they being
five years behindhand for their wages; nay, Evens, the famous man upon
the Harp, having not his equal in the world, did the other day die for
mere want, and was fain to be buried at the alms of the parish, and
carried to his grave in the dark at night without one linke, but that
Mr. Kingston met it by chance, and did give 12d. to buy two or three
links."
The state of the Merry Monarch's exchequer in 1662, according to an
extract from the Emoluments of the Audit Office, seems to have been
singularly prosperous. An order runs as follows: "These are to require
you to pay, or cause to be paid, to John Bannister, one of His
Majesty's musicians in ordinary, the sum of forty pounds for two
Cremona Violins, by him bought and delivered for His Majesty's
service, as may appear by the bill annexed; and also ten pounds for
strings for two years ending 24th June, 1662."
The King's band was led in 1663 by the above-named John Bannister, who
was an excellent Violinist. His name is associated with the earliest
concerts in England, namely, those held at "four of the clock in the
afternoon" at the George Tavern, in Whitefriars. Roger North informs
us the shopkeepers and others went to sing and "enjoy ale and
tobacco," and the charge was one shilling and "call for what you
please."
In the year 1683, Henry Purcell, organist of the Chapel Royal,
published twelve sonatas for two Violins and a Bass. These famous
instrumental compositions were written, the author tells us, in "just
imitation of the most famed Italian masters, principally to bring the
seriousness and gravity of that sort of musick into vogue." Purcell,
in conformity with an age of dedications, thus addressed the Merry
Monarch:--
"May it please your Majesty, I had not assum'd the confidence of
laying ye following compositions at your sacred feet, but that, as
they are the immediate results of your Majestie's Royal favour and
benignity to me (which have made me what I am), so I am constrained to
hope I may presume amongst others of your Majestie's over-obliged and
altogether undeserving subjects that your Majesty will, with your
accustomed clemency, vouchsafe to pardon the best endeavours of your
Majestie's
"Most humble and obedient subject and servant,
"H. PURCELL."
Charles II. is said to have understood his notes, and to sing in (in
the words of one who had sung with him) a plump bass, but that he only
looked upon music as an incentive to mirth, not caring for any that he
could not "stamp the time to." The endeavour of his accomplished and
gifted young organist to lead the King and his people to admire what
he terms "the seriousness and gravity" of Italian music, and "to
loathe the levity and balladry of our neighbours," was indeed worthy
of England's greatest musician.
In the year 1678, Thomas Britton, known as the "musical small-coal
man," gave concerts in this country, and a long series it was,
extending over a period of forty-six years. The shape the movement
took was that of a musical club, which was maintained at Britton's
expense.
The concert-room of Tom Britton was over his coal-shop in Aylesbury
Street, leading from Clerkenwell Green to St. John Street. From the
year 1678 to the time of his death, in 1714, the concerts of Britton
were attended by persons of all ranks.
"Tho' mean thy rank, yet in thy humble cell,
Did gentle peace and arts unpurchased dwell.
Well pleased, Apollo thither led his train,
And Music warbled in her sweetest strain.
Cyllenius too, so fables tell, and Jove
Came willing guests to poor Philemon's grove.
Let useless pomp behold, and blush to find
So low a station, such a liberal mind."[3]
[Footnote 3: These verses were written by Mr. John Hughes, who was a
frequent performer on the Violin at Britton's concerts. (Hawkins.)]
Thus the first germ of the great musical societies gave a marked
impulse to the culture of stringed music in England. Attention was
turned to the subject; its humanising effects were recognised, and
parties met in several places for the practice of chamber music. Our
progress in Violin-playing at this date was clearly satisfactory. We
had a Violinist named John Henry Eccles, belonging to a clever family
of musicians. He became a member of the band of Louis XIV., and was
regarded as an excellent player and musician. He published in Paris
some solos for the Violin in 1720. His brother Thomas was also a good
Violinist. Fortune, however, did not smile upon him. He is described
as being one of those itinerant musicians--perhaps the last of
them--who in winter evenings went to taverns, and for a slender
subsistence bore the insults of those disinclined to listen to their
performance. This order of itinerant musicians may be described as
having descended from the Fiddling minstrels, whom the wealthy in
earlier times often retained in their houses, giving them coats and
badges bearing the family arms. These musicians, in place of amusing
the nobility, ultimately attended wakes and fairs. They were sometimes
retained at the large inns, where the guest while eating, an old
English writer says, was "offered music, which he may freely take or
refuse, and if he be solitary the musicians will give him the good
day, with music in the morning." In Puritan times this class of
musician was thought to have so much increased as to need a special
act for their suppression, which gave rise to Butler's creation, the
"Champion Crowdero." Returning to our subject with Thomas Eccles, we
have the following interesting account of the unfortunate Violinist,
by a musician: "It was about the month of November, 1753, that I, with
some friends, were met to spend the evening at a tavern in the City,
when this man, in a mean but decent garb, was introduced to us by the
waiter; immediately upon opening the door I heard the twang of one of
his strings from under his coat, which was accompanied by the
question, 'Gentlemen, will you please to hear my music?' Our
curiosity, and the modesty of the man's deportment, inclined us to say
yes, and music he gave us, such as I had never heard before, nor shall
again under the same circumstances. With as fine and delicate a hand
as I ever heard, he played the whole fifth and ninth solos of Corelli,
and two songs of Mr. Handel; in short, his performance was such as
would command the attention of the nicest ear, and left us his
auditors much at a loss to guess what it was that constrained him to
seek his living in a way so disreputable. He made no secret of his
name; he said he was the youngest of three brothers, and that Henry,
the middle one, had been his master, and was then in the service of
the King of France. He lodged in the Butcher Row, near Temple Bar, and
was well known to the musicians of his time, who thought themselves
disgraced by this practice of his, for which they have a term of
reproach not very intelligible; they call it _going a-busking_."[4]
[Footnote 4: The term "busker" is still applied to musicians who
perform outside public-houses, on steamboats, and elsewhere.]
I have now to mention a Violinist whose talents raised the instrument
greatly, particularly in England, viz., Francesco Geminiani. He was
instructed by Corelli, and imbibed much of his master's breadth of
style. He came to England in the year 1714. In 1716 he published a set
of twelve sonatas, which attracted some notice at the time from their
novelty. In these he plunged into difficulties deemed then very
unusual, but withal his compositions were elegantly written. He
afterwards wrote and published solos and concertos, besides a
"Treatise on Good Taste," and the "Art of Playing on the Violin," the
latter being the first instruction book for the instrument deserving
of the name. The instrumental music at this period was composed for
four Violins, Tenor, Violoncello, and Double-Bass, and was called the
Concerto Grosso.
Having lightly sketched the progress of the Violin in England down to
about the year 1750, it will, perhaps, be better to take the thread of
the instrument's progress in Italy, which we brought to the days of
Corelli.
The first half of the 18th century was rich in Italian Violinists and
writers for the instrument, of whom the chief was Giuseppe Tartini,
born 1692. Dr. Burney says of his compositions: "Though he made
Corelli his model in the purity of his harmony and simplicity of his
modulation, he greatly surpassed that composer in the fertility and
originality of his invention; not only in the subjects of his
melodies, but in the truly _cantabile_ manner of treating them. Many
of his _adagios_ want nothing but _words_ to be excellent pathetic
opera songs. His _allegros_ are sometimes difficult; but the passages
fairly belong to the instrument for which they were composed, and were
suggested by his consummate knowledge of the finger-board and the
powers of the bow. As a harmonist he was, perhaps, more truly
scientific than any other composer of his time, in the clearness,
character, and precision of his Basses, which were never casual, or
the effect of habit or auricular prejudice and expectation, but
learned, judicious, and certain." It would be difficult to add to this
judgment of the compositions of Tartini. The truth of Burney's remarks
is better understood at this moment than when penned. During the space
of nearly a century the sonatas of Tartini lay dormant, and only
within recent years have their beauties been again recognised. Such
works as Tartini's are all-important links in the chain of musical
progress.
Pietro Locatelli, a pupil of Corelli, introduced a style of playing
quite in advance of his time. His compositions abound with novel
combinations; double stops, harmonics, and arpeggios are displayed
with wonderful results. Burney says that "Locatelli had more hand,
caprice, and fancy than any Violinist of his time."
The immediate follower of the style of Locatelli was Lolli, born 1728,
who wrote pleasing airs and used novel effects, but failed to go
further. It was one of his feats to play on one string--a performance
very properly held in contempt in our day, having neither sense nor
grace to recommend it.
Felice Giardini was another musician of the style of Locatelli.[5] He
was born at Turin, in the year 1716. His performance at Naples and
Berlin excited considerable notice. In 1742 he visited England, and
created some sensation, his style being new to the British public.
[Footnote 5: In "Les Maitres Classiques," edited by M. Alard, and the
"Hohe Schule," edited by Ferdinand David, will be found some of the
best examples of this composer, as well as of many others noticed
here.]
Boccherini probably did more towards furthering the cultivation of
stringed instrument music than any composer of his day, with the
exception of Haydn. There are in his compositions movements of varied
styles, well written for their respective instruments. His quintettes
are among his chief productions, and their elegance and brilliancy are
remarkable. The part allotted to his own instrument, the Violoncello,
often bristles with difficulties, and hence it is that these
compositions are so seldom heard. Boccherini was the first composer
who wrote quintettes with two Violoncello parts.
We now reach a stage in the history of the progress of the Violin the
importance of which cannot be over-estimated; I refer to the influence
which the compositions of Giovanni Battista Viotti exerted upon the
cultivation of our instrument. With the famous Viotti sprang up a
school of Violin-playing as marked in style as that introduced by
Corelli. Viotti was a pupil of Pugnani, and owed his success to the
rare teaching of that master. The sensation that Viotti created in
Paris was great. His varied style, his rich tone and elegance in
playing, were far beyond anything that the Parisian public had
previously experienced. With Viotti was ushered in a new era in solo
playing. His concertos exhibit the capabilities of the instrument in
elegantly constructed passages, such as none but a master of the
Violin could pen. He wrote upwards of twenty concertos, those in A
minor, in G, in D, and in E minor being the favourites, and to this
day highly esteemed by Violinists of every school. His duos and trios
are pleasing and effective, and, though long since superseded by works
of greater erudition, they form a landmark in the history of the
progress of the instrument.
Campagnoli, born in 1751, was a composer of rare ability. Had he
written nothing but the "Studies on the Seven Positions of the Violin"
he would have left enough to mark the character of his genius. Happily
he has bequeathed to us many other writings. The "Fantasias and
Cadences," forming a book of upwards of 100 pages, is a work full of
interest to the Violinist. His modulations are singularly effective.
He has also written some Studies for the Tenor, and, lastly, a "Violin
School." I cannot but think that Campagnoli's educational compositions
do not receive the attention which they merit, and are too often laid
aside as old-fashioned. There is a certain quaintness in his writings,
but this much may be said of many other compositions whose beauties
are not neglected on that account. It would be difficult to find
material more solid than that afforded by the writings of Campagnoli,
if the foundation of Violin-playing of the highest character is to be
laid.
We reach the pinnacle of the Italian school of Violin-playing in the
wondrous Paganini; born February 18, 1784, died May 27, 1840. It is
needless to recount the extraordinary achievements of this remarkable
man. M. Fetis and others have collected the most interesting
particulars relative to Paganini and his compositions, and to their
entertaining accounts the reader can turn for information. It is
sufficient to mention that Paganini carried the marvellous in
Violin-playing as far as seems possible. The number of his imitators
has been enormous, and many of them, withal, so barbarous as to render
anything savouring of "a la Paganini" contemptible. The compositions
of Paganini are no longer Paganini's when played by others. He, above
all Violinists that ever lived, possessed an individuality in his
style of playing which has hitherto defied imitation.
From Paganini to his pupil Camillo Sivori is the next step in my
notice. The artistic career of Sivori was a glorious one. Elegance of
style and charming purity of tone were qualities peculiarly his.
Antonio Bazzini, both as a solo Violinist and composer for the
instrument, has achieved lasting fame.
Having endeavoured to lightly sketch the history of Italian
performers, and of Italian music bearing on the instrument to the
present time, it remains to notice a remarkable follower of the
Italian school of Violin-playing in the Norwegian, Ole Bornemann Bull.
The executive skill of this famous Violinist was of the highest order,
and perhaps no other artist, with the exception of Paganini, gained
such a world-wide renown.
It is now necessary to refer to the course of events touching the
Violin in France. As the influence of Viotti resulted in a remodelling
of the French style of playing, our survey will make it necessary to
go back the greater part of a century.
Jean Marie Leclair, the pupil of Somis, is the first Violinist
deserving of mention. He was born at Lyons in 1697. In 1729 he visited
Paris, where he was engaged at the opera. He wrote several sonatas for
Violin and Bass, and for two Violins and Bass, besides other
compositions. The difficulties occurring in many of these writings are
of no ordinary character, and if they were rendered with anything
approaching to exactness, the progress made on the Violin must have
been very rapid between the days of Lulli and those of Leclair.
Pierre Gavinies claims attention both as an executant and composer.
There is a freshness about his compositions which has caused many of
them to be recently roused from their long sleep, and re-issued in the
improved garb of a modern edition. His best-known works are the
twenty-four Studies, Concertos, and Sonatas.
Although there were several Violinists in France of average ability
between the time of Gavinies and that of Rode, they scarcely claim
attention in this somewhat hasty sketch; and I will, therefore, pass
to the players linked with Viotti to his pupil Rode. He was born at
Bordeaux in 1774. Fetis remarks, "From Corelli to Rode there is no
_hiatus_ in the school, for Corelli was the master of Somis, Somis of
Pugnani, Pugnani of Viotti, and Viotti of Rode."
His twenty-four Caprices, and his Concertos and Airs, are much admired
by all Violinists for their elegance and effectiveness. Paganini
played the concertos of Rode publicly upon several occasions; Baillot
and Kreutzer were associated with Rode at the Paris Conservatoire, and
likewise in the compilation of the well-known Instruction Book written
expressly for the use of the pupils at the Conservatoire. Baillot was
famed for his admirable bowing and refined playing. Kreutzer is, of
course, better known from his Forty Studies than from anything else
that he has written. His concertos partake more of the study than of
the name they bear, and are valued accordingly.
Lafont was instructed by both Rode and Kreutzer, and held a high
position among the Violinists of his time.
Francois Antoine Habeneck was a pupil of Baillot at the Paris
Conservatoire, where he distinguished himself, and became a professor.
Among his pupils were Alard, Sainton, and Deldevez.
M. Alard was born in 1815. He succeeded Baillot at the Conservatoire
in 1843, holding the position for many years, and retiring shortly
after the death of his father-in-law, M. Vuillaume. M. Alard was the
master of Sarasate. M. Sainton was born in 1813 at Toulouse. He took
the first prize at the Conservatoire in 1834. He settled in London in
1845. Shortly afterwards he became principal professor of the Violin
at the Royal Academy of Music, and leader under Signor Costa.
It now remains for me to notice the Belgian school. The first to name
is Charles de Beriot, one of the most delicious players we have had.
As a composer for his instrument, he opened up entirely fresh ground;
he banished all that was dry, and gave us those fresh and pleasant
Airs with Variations, and Morceaux de Salon, teeming with novel
effects. It can never be said that De Beriot alarmed the amateurs with
outrageous difficulties; on the contrary, he gave them passages
comparatively easy to execute, full of effect, and yet withal
_astonishing_ to the listener. De Beriot probably made more amateur
Violinists than any composer of his time.
Henri Vieuxtemps was a thorough master of his art. His Concertos are
compositions worthy of the title they bear; they do not consist of a
number of difficulties strung together without meaning, but are
properly constructed works. He has written many Fantasias, all of
which are the delight of good Violinists. His compositions being most
difficult to render, they are chiefly known among artists, but in
these days of rapid development in Violin-playing among amateurs, a
new and wide field will certainly be opened for them.
From Belgium to Poland seems a wide step in my discourse, but it is
really not so. Although the Polish Violinists retain much originality
in their style of playing and compositions, it is to the French school
that they belong. Lipinski, Wieniawski, and Lotto were all educated in
the Paris school.
Lipinski has written a good deal for his instrument, and instructed
many well-known players.
Henri Wieniawski was essentially a great artist. He was a marvellous
Violinist, and displayed great genius as a composer for his
instrument.
Adolphe Pollitzer settled in London many years since, and occupied a
leading position among our resident Violinists.
Having lightly touched upon the various heads of the French school, I
must again take up the thread of the English history of the instrument
from about 1750, at which period we may trace a growing admiration for
Violin-playing, notwithstanding the disparagement which this
accomplishment received from different notabilities. Foremost among
the revilers stands Lord Chesterfield, who considered playing upon any
musical instrument to be illiberal in a gentleman. The Violin would
seem to have been regarded by his lordship with a supreme amount of
displeasure. His opinion of Violinists savoured greatly of that held
by the framers of the statute passed in the reign of Elizabeth
touching minstrels, who were to be included among "rogues, vagabonds,
and sturdy beggars" wandering abroad. Lord Chesterfield says, "Music
is usually reckoned one of the liberal arts, and not unjustly, but a
man of fashion who is seen piping or Fiddling at a concert degrades
his own dignity. If you love music, hear it; _pay Fiddlers to play for
you, but never Fiddle yourself_." Such was Lord Chesterfield's advice
to his son. It is quite evident that he had no notion of the exquisite
enjoyment derivable from being an executant in a quartette, the
conversational powers of which have been so frequently noticed. That
Lord Chesterfield's strictures discouraged the practice of the Violin
in the higher circles of society is very probable, appearing as they
do in a work which was held in the light of a textbook upon the
conduct of a gentleman for some considerable time. Happily, the
hollowness of much of his advice came to be recognised, and he who
deemed cards and dice a necessary step towards fashionable perfection,
and ordained that Fiddlers were to be paid to play for you as
substitutes for your own personal degradation, came to be remembered,
possibly, more on account of the laxity of his precepts than for any
other reason.
In the days of Lord Chesterfield lived Michael Christian Festing, who
was particularly zealous in the cause of music. He was a pupil of
Geminiani, and wrote several solos. Festing still further carried out
the idea of Britton, the "small-coal man," by bringing together a
number of noblemen and gentlemen amateurs for the practice of
concerted music. They met at the Crown and Anchor Tavern in the
Strand, and named their society the "Philharmonic." So much for his
furtherance of the art. It now remains to notice the great boon which
Festing conferred upon his brother professors and their descendants.
It is this which has given his memory lasting life in the annals of
English music.
We are indebted to Festing as the chief instrument in the formation of
the Royal Society of Musicians, which he may be said to have founded
in the year 1738. This society derived its origin from the following
curious circumstance. Festing being one day seated at the window of
the Orange Coffee House, then at the corner of the Haymarket, observed
a very intelligent-looking boy, who was driving an ass and selling
brickdust. The lad was in a deplorable condition, and excited the pity
of the kind-hearted musician, who made inquiries concerning him, and
discovered that he was the son of an unfortunate professor of music.
Struck with grief and mortification that the forlorn object before him
should be the child of a brother musician, Festing resolved to attempt
something for the boy's maintenance. Shortly after, with the help of
other benevolently-disposed persons, he raised a fund for the support
of decayed musicians and their families, and thus laid the foundation
of the society, which is the first of its kind in Europe. Handel was
one of its first and principal members, and left it a legacy of 1,000
pounds. Little did Festing and his supporters dream that their
society, humble enough in 1738, would grow into a society possessing
80,000 pounds in 1874--a sum which, however high-sounding, was
all-insufficient to permit the committee to dispense the amount of
good desired.
Returning again to our subject, we find that in Festing's lifetime
there were several patrons of the art, the chief of whom were the
Prince of Wales, the Duke of Cumberland, and the Earl of Mornington.
Speaking of the Earl, the Hon. Daines Barrington says he "furnishes an
instance of early attention to musical instruments. His father played
well for a gentleman, on the Violin, which always delighted the child
while in his nurse's arms, and long before he could speak." When he
was nine years old, "an old portrait-painter came to the family seat,
who was a very indifferent performer on the Violin, but persuaded the
child that if he tried to play on that instrument, he would soon be
able to bear a part in a concert. With this inducement he soon learned
the two old catches of the 'Christ-Church Bells,' and 'Sing one, two,
three, come follow me;' after which, his father and the painter
accompanying him with the other two parts, he experienced the pleasing
effects of a harmony to which he himself contributed. Soon after this
he was able to play the second Violin in Corelli's sonatas, which gave
him a steadiness in time that never deserted him."
We may now glance at the period when Salomon came to England in 1781.
Too much stress can scarcely be laid upon the good effected by
Salomon's talents for the progress of music, and more particularly in
behalf of instrumental music. We are deeply indebted to this musician
for the spirit and enterprise which he displayed, in bringing to
England, at no trifling pecuniary risk, the immortal Haydn. Salomon
having established a series of twenty concerts in 1790, it occurred to
him that to invite the famous musician to London would aid his
enterprise. He communicated with Haydn, offering him the sum of fifty
pounds for each concert. These terms were accepted, and Haydn set out
for London, at the age of fifty-nine. He remained in England over a
year, and composed the celebrated "Twelve Symphonies" known as the
Salomon set. Salomon was one of the promoters of the Philharmonic
Society, and led the orchestra at the first concert given by the
society in 1813. Enough has been said to show the nature of the part
he took in the development of music in England. Enjoying the
friendship of those who moved in the higher circles of society, where
his polished manners and high attainments ever made him a welcome
guest, he was enabled to command such patronage as to make his
laudable ventures successful.
Among the Violinists of Salomon's day, resident in England, were
William and Francois Cramer, to whom severally were assigned the
leadership of the Ancient Concerts and of the Opera.
The next Violinist who gained some celebrity was Nicholas Mori, born
in London in the year 1796. He was associated with the formation of
the Royal Academy of Music, in Tenterden Street, and became the
principal instructor on the Violin at that institution. Paolo Diana (a
Cremonese known under his adopted name of Spagnoletti) and Kieswetter
each contributed his share towards the advancement of the instrument
during their stay in this country.
The names of Dando and Henry Blagrove bring us to the players of our
own time. These thoroughly representative English Violinists have done
much to raise the standard of the public taste. In the year 1835, the
"Concerti da Camera" were established (in imitation of those given in
Paris by Pierre Baillot), and served to extend our knowledge of
classical chamber music. The formation of the Musical Union still
further increased our knowledge and taste in the same direction. The
long roll of celebrated Continental artists introduced at the
Society's concerts sufficiently stamps its character. All that
remained to be done was to make the Quartette popular, and to bring it
within the reach of all. This has been achieved by the indefatigable
labours of Mr. Chappell in his _Monday Popular Concerts_. For some
time the public failed to appreciate Mr. Chappell's scheme, but the
enterprising director, nothing daunted, continued his course, and had
ultimately the gratification of being besieged in his citadel at St.
James's Hall, from the commencement of the season to its close.
Before closing our remarks on the progress of Violin-playing in
England, we have still to mention a few other names in connection with
this subject. Henry C. Cooper was a Violinist who ranked with the
chief representatives of the English Soloists, and during a long
professional career achieved much success. He set on foot, together
with his coadjutors, M. Sainton, Hill, and Signor Piatti, the
Quartette Association, the concerts of which were given at Willis's
Rooms during several seasons. The career of Mr. John Carrodus was
watched by his brother artists with much interest. As a pupil of Herr
Molique, he gave early signs of exceptional talents; it was felt that
he must inevitably come to the front; all that was predicted, and even
more, in due time came to pass. He achieved a commanding position
among the foremost Violinists of our time, both as a soloist and
leader. With the names of Messrs. Henry and Alfred Holmes, I come to a
close of the English branch of the subject. The brothers Holmes
attracted the notice of Spohr, who was so delighted with their
abilities that he composed and dedicated to them three Duets for two
Violins.
The first name of any note in connection with the Violin in Germany is
that of Graun, who was born in the year 1700. He became concertmaster
to the King of Prussia, and excelled as a Violinist. His pupil,
Francis Benda, next claims attention. Dr. Burney says of him: "His
manner was neither that of Tartini nor of Veracini, nor that of any
other leader; it was purely his own, though founded on the several
models of the greatest masters;" and Hillar tells us that "his tones
were of the finest description, the clearest and most euphonious that
can be imagined." Benda published studies for his instrument, and also
several solos and other works, all of which are admired for their good
and _cantabile_ style.
About this period appeared the admirable compositions for the Violin
of that great master of his art, John Sebastian Bach--works differing
essentially from those of his contemporaries.
"He was not of an age, but for all time."
To describe the character and beauties of Bach's Violin writings is
within neither my province nor capacity. As an amateur Violinist and
an observer of all that relates to the Violin, I may refer, however,
to the vast amount of good which the compositions of Bach have
exercised upon the cultivation of Violin-playing, and the marvellous
development that they have received at the hands of many of our
leading Violinists. For this happy state of things we are largely
indebted to Herr Joachim; but for him these treasures might have
remained hidden behind a cloud of _airs varies_, fantasias, and what
not, for many a year to come. Herr Joachim has made the Sonatas of
Bach familiar to thousands who a few years since scarcely knew of
their existence. The difficulties which abound in these solid writings
could only have been written by a master perfectly acquainted with the
capabilities of the instrument. Many a tyro who plunges into the
stream of Bach's crotchets and quavers soon finds himself encompassed
by a whirlpool of seeming impossibilities, and is frequently heard to
exclaim that the passages are impracticable. Vain delusion! Bach was
himself a Violinist, and never penned a passage the rendering of which
is impossible. The ease and grace with which a Joachim makes every
note heard and felt, induces many a one to wrestle with Bach, the more
so when it is found that the great author has confined himself to the
lower positions of the instrument. Vain delusion number two! Bach
exacts more on _terra firma_ than many later writers have claimed in
their wildest aerial flights.
From Bach to Handel is an easy step in our discourse. They were born
within a year of each other, and were possessed of minds of similar
calibre, though differently exercised. It would not, perhaps, be
over-strained to call them respectively the Nelson and Wellington of
music. The compositions of Handel materially advanced the Violin. His
Overtures, Trios, Sonatas, and Concertos, were all received with the
utmost attention, and led on to works by later composers, which would
probably have never existed but for Handel's example.
We now reach the time when the Symphony was perfected by Haydn, who,
following the steps of Bach, brought this branch of the art to a
degree of perfection hitherto unknown. The influence of this composer
on the progress of the Violin cannot be over-estimated. The Quartettes
of Haydn are too well known to need more than mention here. The
Quartettes of Giardini and Pugnani were laid aside to give place to
these inspired compositions. The following amusing comparison, drawn
by a lady, between the Quartettes of Haydn and the speech of
articulate humanity appears in Bombet's "Letters on Haydn," and,
though pretty well known, will lose nothing by repetition:--
"In listening to the Quartettes of Haydn, this lady felt as if present
at a conversation of four agreeable persons. She thought that the
first Violin had the air of an eloquent man of genius, of middle age,
who supported a conversation, the subject of which he had suggested.
In the second Violin she recognised a friend of the first, who sought
by all possible means to display him to advantage, seldom thought of
himself, and kept up the conversation rather by assenting to what was
said by the others than by advancing any ideas of his own. The Alto
was a grave, learned, and sententious man. He supported the discourse
of the first Violin by laconic maxims, striking for their truth. The
Bass was a worthy old lady, rather inclined to chatter, who said
nothing of much consequence, and while she was talking the other
interlocutors had time to breathe. It was, however, evident that she
had a secret inclination for the Alto, which she preferred to the
other instruments."
It may be said that the foregoing extract is more funny than just.
Probably this is the case; however, I make use of it as throwing some
light on the enjoyment derivable from listening to a Quartette,
without reference to its critical bearings.
Resuming our subject again: Haydn wrote eight easy Sonatas for Violin
and Pianoforte, but they are not of sufficient importance to cause
them to be much played. Haydn used frequently to take the Tenor parts
in his Quartettes.
Leopold Mozart, born in 1719, the father of the illustrious musician,
was a Violinist, and wrote a "Method" for his instrument. He died in
1787.
To the great Mozart Violinists owe much; his compositions for the
instrument raised its standing considerably. It is unnecessary to give
here a detailed list of those of his writings in which the Violin
takes part--they are happily known to most players. Mozart played the
Violin from boyhood, and was taught by his father. It is gratifying to
know that nearly all the great composers played upon stringed
instruments, if not with proficiency, yet enough to enable them to
make pleasurable use of their acquirements. Sebastian Bach, Handel,
and Schubert were Violin-players; Haydn and Mendelssohn could take
their Tenor part in a Quartette; and lastly, Beethoven used to amuse
himself with the Double-Bass. Their compositions evidence a practical
knowledge of stringed instruments, as distinct from theory. The
glorious compositions of Beethoven for the Violin need no comment
here; their beauties have formed the theme of the ablest critics; and
I have no desire to contribute my humble mite to their exhaustive
remarks.
With Fesca we again come amongst the Violinists. He was born at
Magdeburg, in 1789. His Quartettes are very pleasing compositions;
they are chiefly "Solo Quartettes."
The next Violinist claiming attention is the highly gifted Louis
Spohr, the greatest composer for the Violin that ever lived, who
combined in his own person high executive powers with a rare fecundity
of classical composition. The Concertos of Spohr belong to an entirely
different class from those of Viotti, Kreutzer, and others, inasmuch
as Spohr's music is written so as not only to display the beauties of
the instrument, but also to give the noblest specimens of its
orchestration. His Duets for two Violins, his Tenor and Violin Duets
and Quartettes, are all too well known to need more than passing
mention.
From Spohr has grown up a school of Violin-playing of a very
distinctive character. Bernard Molique was endowed with great powers,
both as a performer and a composer for his instrument. His Concertos
are compositions of the highest character, and require for their
rendering a finished artist.
Joseph Mayseder was a Violinist of an order distinct from that of
Spohr or Molique. His style was exceedingly brilliant. Mayseder may
also be said to have created a school of his own, and, owing to the
circulation that his compositions obtained in England, his style was
introduced among a great number of our countrymen. Kalliwoda wrote and
played very much in the Mayseder manner. His Airs and Variations are
especially brilliant compositions; his Overtures are also much admired
for their sparkling and dramatic character.
I come now to notice one of the greatest artistes of our time--Herr
Ernst--whose playing was impassioned in the highest degree. He made
the Violin express his innermost thoughts in tones of delicious
tenderness, such as his hearers can never forget. By nature noble,
generous, and affectionate, the shade and substance of each trait was
faithfully reflected in his exquisite playing. His compositions are
among the finest solo writings we have. To mention his "Otello," "Airs
Hongrois," "Le Prophete," and his "Studies," will be sufficient to
call to the mind of most Violinists the high character of his
compositions.
It now only remains for me to briefly allude to the German artists
each Concert Season makes us familiar with. First and foremost, the
mighty Herr Joachim, a host in himself. His able coadjutor, Herr
Strauss, was justly admired for his intellectual rendering of the
great masters, and the artistic spirit he invariably displayed. Herr
Wilhelmj was regarded as one of the first players of our time, his
executive powers being of the highest order.
SECTION XV
Anecdotes and Miscellanea connected with the Violin
[Illustration:
"The Squire, in state, rode on before,
. . . . .
The Trophy-Fiddle, and the case
Leaning on shoulder, like a mace."]
HUDIBRAS AND THE CHAMPION CROWDERO.
The important part played by the renowned Champion Crowdero in
Butler's inimitable satire has never failed to give keen enjoyment to
all lovers of wit and humour. This being so, his exploits should be
doubly appreciated by the votaries of the Fiddle, since it was he who
valiantly defended the cause of Fiddling against the attacks of
Hudibras--
"When civil dudgeon first grew high,
And men fell out, they knew not why;
When hard words, jealousies, and fears
Set folks together by the ears,
And made them fight, like mad or drunk.
. . . . .
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a-colonelling."
The absurdities into which the genius of Cervantes hurried Don Quixote
and Sancho served to moderate the extravagances of knight-errantry.
The adventures of Hudibras and Ralpho, undertaken to extinguish the
sports and pastimes of the people, aided greatly in staying the hand
of fanaticism, which had suppressed all stage plays and interludes as
"condemned by ancient heathens, and by no means to be tolerated among
professors of the Christian religion."
With Crowdero we are taken back upwards of two centuries in the
history of the Violin; from times wherein it is held in the highest
esteem and admiration, to days when it was regarded with contempt and
ridicule. Crowdero (so called from _crowd_, a Fiddle) was the
fictitious name for one Jackson, a milliner, who lived in the New
Exchange, in the Strand. He had served with the Roundheads, and lost a
leg, which brought him into reduced circumstances, until he was
obliged to Fiddle from one alehouse to another for his existence.
Hudibras--
"On stirrup-side, he gaz'd about
Portending blood, like blazing star,
The beacon of approaching war.
. . . . .
Ralpho rode on, with no less speed
Than Hugo in the forest did;
But far more in returning made,
For now the foe he had survey'd
Rang'd, as to him they did appear,
With van, main battle, wings, and rear.
I' th' head of all this warlike rabble,
Crowdero marched, expert and able.
Instead of trumpet and of drum,
That makes the warrior's stomach come,
Whose noise whets valour sharp, like beer
By thunder turn'd to vinegar;
(For if a trumpet sound, or drum beat,
Who has not a month's mind to combat?)
A squeaking engine he apply'd
Unto his neck on north-east side,[1]
Just where the hangman does dispose,
To special friends, the knot or noose;
For 'tis great grace, when statesmen straight
Dispatch a friend, let others wait.
His warped ear hung o'er the strings,
Which was but souse to chitterlings;[2]
For guts, some write, ere they are sodden,
Are fit for music, or for pudding;[3]
From whence men borrow ev'ry kind
Of minstrelsy, by string or wind.
His grisly beard was long and thick,
With which he strung his Fiddle-stick;
For he to horse-tail scorned to owe
For what on his own chin did grow.
. . . . .
And now the field of death, the lists,
Were enter'd by antagonists,
And blood was ready to be broach'd,
When Hudibras in haste approach'd
With Squire and weapons, to attack 'em;
But first thus from his horse bespoke 'em,
'What rage, O citizens! What fury
Doth you to these dire actions hurry?
. . . . .
In name of King and Parliament
I charge ye all--no more foment.
. . . . .
... first surrender
The Fiddler as the prime offender,
Th' incendiary vile, that is chief
Author and engineer of mischief;
That makes division between friends
For profane and malignant ends.[4]
He and that engine of vile noise
On which illegally he plays,[5]
Shall (_dictum factum_) both be brought
To condign punishment, as they ought.'
. . . . .
This said he clapped his hand on sword,
To show he meant to keep his word.
. . . . .
He drew up all his force into
One body and into one blow.
. . . . .
The Knight, with all its weight, fell down
. . . . .
Like a feather bed betwixt a wall
And heavy brunt of cannon ball.
. . . . .
Crowdero only kept the field,
Not stirring from the place he held;
Though beaten down and wounded sore,
I' th' Fiddle, and a leg that bore
One side of him--not that of bone,
But much its better, th' wooden one.
He spying Hudibras lie strew'd
Upon the ground, like log of wood,
. . . . .
In haste he snatch'd the wooden limb
That, hurt in th' ankle, lay by him,
And, fitting it for sudden fight,
Straight drew it up, t' attack the Knight;
. . . . .
Vowing to be reveng'd, for breach
Of Crowd and skin, upon the wretch,[6]
Sole author of all detriment
He and his Fiddle underwent.
. . . . .
When Ralpho thrust himself between,
He took the blow upon his arm,
To shield the Knight from further harm,
And, joining wrath with force, bestow'd
On th' wooden member such a load,
That down it fell and with it bore
Crowdero, whom it propp'd before.
To him the Squire right nimbly run,
And setting his bold foot upon
His trunk, thus spoke: 'What desp'rate frenzy
Made thee, thou whelp of sin, to fancy
Thyself, and all that coward rabble,
To encounter us in battle able?
How durst th', I say, oppose thy curship
'Gainst, arms, authority, and worship,
And Hudibras or me provoke,
. . . . .
... but first our care
Must see how Hudibras doth fare.'
This said, he gently rais'd the Knight,
. . . . .
To rouse him from lethargic dump,
He tweak'd his nose with gentle thump,
Knock'd on his breast, as if't had been
To raise the spirits lodg'd within;
They, waken'd with the noise, did fly
From inward room to window eye,
And gently op'ning lid, the casement,
Look'd out, but yet with some amazement.
This gladded Ralpho much to see,
Who thus bespoke the Knight; quoth he,
Tweaking his nose, 'You are, great sir,
A self-denying conqueror;
As high, victorious, and great
As e'er fought for the churches yet.
. . . . .
... The foe, for dread
Of your nine-worthiness, is fled;
All, save Crowdero, for whose sake
You did th' espous'd cause undertake;
And he lies pris'ner at your feet,
To be disposed as you think meet,
Either for life, or death, or sale,
The gallows, or perpetual jail;
For one wink of your powerful eye
Must sentence him to live or die;
His Fiddle is your proper purchase,
Won in the service of the Churches;
And by your doom must be allow'd
To be or be no more, a _Crowd_.'
. . . . .
... The Knight began to rouse,
And by degrees grew valorous;
He stared about, and seeing none
Of all his foes remain, but one,
He snatch'd his weapon that lay near him,
And from the ground began to rear him,
Vowing to make Crowdero pay
For all the rest that ran away.
But Ralpho now, in colder blood,
His fury mildly thus withstood.
'Great sir,' quoth he, 'your mighty spirit
Is raised too high; this slave doth merit
To be the hangman's business sooner
Than from your hand to have the honour
Of his destruction; I, that am
A nothingness in deed and name,
Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase,
Or ill entreat his Fiddle or case;
. . . . .
Will you employ your conq'ring sword
To break a Fiddle, and your word?
. . . . .
... I think it better far
To keep him prisoner of war.'
. . . . .
He liked the squire's advice, and soon
Resolved to see the business done.
. . . . .
Ralpho dispatched with speedy haste,
And having ty'd Crowdero fast,
He gave Sir Knight the end of cord,
To lead the captive of his sword.
. . . . .
The Squire in state rode on before,
And on his nut-brown whinyard bore
The Trophy-Fiddle, and the case
Leaning on shoulder, like a mace.[7]
The Knight himself did after ride,
Leading Crowdero by his side,
And tow'd him if he lagg'd behind,
Like boat against the tide and wind.
Thus grave and solemn they march on,
Until quite thro' the town th' had gone,
At further end of which there stands
An ancient castle, that commands[8]
Th' adjacent parts; in all the fabric
You shall not see one stone nor a brick
But all of wood, by powerful spell
Of magic made impregnable.
. . . . .
Thither arriv'd, th' advent'rous Knight
And bold Squire from their steeds alight
At th' outward wall, near which there stands
A bastile, built t' imprison hands;
. . . . .
On top of this there is a spire
On which Sir Knight first bids the Squire
The Fiddle, and its spoils, the case,[9]
In manner of a trophy, place.
That done, they ope the trapdoor gate,
And let Crowdero down thereat;
Crowdero making doleful face,
Like hermit poor in pensive place.
To dungeon they the wretch commit,
And the survivor of his feet,
But the other that had broke the peace
And head of knighthood, they release,
Though a delinquent false and forged,
Yet b'ing a stranger, he's enlarged,
While his comrade that did not hurt
Is clapp'd up fast in prison for't;
So Justice, while she winks at crimes,
Stumbles on innocence sometimes."
[Illustration: Spire with Fiddle and case.]
[Footnote 1: Several explanations of this passage have been set forth
by Butler's commentators. Dr. Grey asks, "Why the north-east side? Do
Fiddlers always, or most generally, stand or sit according to the
points of the compass?" Dr. Nash suggests the poet may have had in
view "a conceit," which is in Brown's "Vulgar Errors," viz., that the
body of man is magnetical, and being placed in a boat will never rest
till the head respecteth the north. Dr. Nash remarks, "Now, the body
lying on its back with its head towards the north, or standing upright
with the face towards the east, the reader will find the place of the
Fiddle on the left breast to be due north-east."]
[Footnote 2: Dr. Nash says, "Souse is the pig's ear, and chitterlings
the pig's guts; the former alludes to Crowdero's ear, which lay on the
Fiddle; the latter to the strings of the Fiddle, which are made of
catgut."]
[Footnote 3: Black pudding and sausages are placed in skins of gut.]
[Footnote 4: This passage evidently refers to Violists meeting to make
division to a ground, namely, in the words of Christopher Simpson, "A
ground, subject, or bass (call it which you please) is prickt
(written) down in two several papers, one for him who is to play the
ground (upon an organ, harpsichord, or other instrument), the other
for him who plays upon the Viol, who having the said ground before his
eye (as his theme or subject) plays such variety of descant and
division thereupon as his skill and present invention do then suggest
to him." The poet's allusion to "Th' incendiary vile (Viol) that is
chief author and engineer of mischief" humorously points to the
popularity of the Viol. The poet's mention of persons meeting and
performing on their Viols, thus making
"... division between friends,
For profane and malignant ends,"
is evidently a most humorous allusion to the case of the Royalist, Sir
Roger L'Estrange, the friend of Butler, and to whom was given the
names of the real persons shadowed under fictitious characters in the
satire. Sir Roger, whilst in St. James's Park, heard an Organ being
played in the house of one Mr. Hickson. His intense love of music
prompted him to seek admittance. He found there a company of five or
six persons, and being himself a good Violist, was prevailed upon to
take a part. By-and-by Cromwell entered, without, Sir Roger explains
in a pamphlet ("Truth and Loyalty Vindicated," printed the year before
the first part of Hudibras was published, in 1662), "the least colour
of a design or expectation." Sir Roger went on making division with
his Viol, apparently regardless of the presence of the Protector and
thus earned for himself the title of Oliver's Fiddler, besides giving
rise to the report that he solicited a private conference with
Cromwell under the pretext of "making division" with his Viol. Dr.
Johnson has truly said of Hudibras, "The manners, being founded on
opinions, are temporary and local, and therefore become every day less
intelligible and less striking.... Much, therefore, of that humour
which transported the century with merriment is lost to us, who do not
know the sour solemnity, the sullen superstition, the gloomy
moroseness, and the stubborn scruples of the ancient Puritans, ... and
cannot, but by recollection and study, understand the lines in which
they are satirised. Our grandfathers knew the picture from the life;
we judge of the life by contemplating the picture."]
[Footnote 5: Alluding to an ordinance made in 1658: "And be it further
enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if any person or persons,
commonly called Fiddlers, or minstrels, shall at any time after the
said first day of July (1657) be taken playing, Fiddling, and making
music in any inn, alehouse, or tavern, or shall be taken proffering
themselves, or desiring, or intreating any person or persons to hear
them play, &c., &c., shall be adjudged ... rogues, vagabonds, and
sturdy beggars."]
[Footnote 6: Crowd, a Fiddle, and therefore for injury done by
"breach," or cracks, to Crowdero's instrument.]
[Footnote 7: The Fiddle-case referred to is one covered with leather,
studded with nails, and with a lid opening at the end, and might be
likened unto a mace.]