Chapter 13

“Somewhat large, and languishing, and lazy.”

Apropos of personification—a curious little pamphlet, of a dozen pages only, but containing some ingenious turns of fancy, was printed by Dove, in 1828, from the pen of a Mr. K——, a gentleman of refined taste in various matters of art and literature. It is entitled, “Carluccio and Signora Violina; a musicaljeu d’espritfor the benefit of Violinists, in the manner of Lucian;” and it consists of a sort of dialogue between a lover and his mistress—the latter being represented by the Violin. In assigning the feminine gender to the instrument, the author thus accounts for the innovation he has hazarded:—“We haveViolain Shakspeare, andViolain music. Why not, then,Violina—especially as her voice is treble?”

Sit juvenis quondam, nunc fæmina.—Virg.

To the foregoing hints on distinctive peculiarities among the Fiddle tribe, I am tempted to add a few words about the two extremes that constitute, respectively, thegiantand thedwarfof the race; namely, thedouble-bass(orcontra-basso) and thekit. The former of these, then—the double-bass—is a fellow of imposing appearance, with the weight and strength of an Ajax, and a voice that you might conceive him to have borrowed from a thunder-cloud. In the assembled circle, he is dogmatical, slow, and heavy; yet one is forced to confess that there is adepthin all he utters, and that what he wants in brilliancy, is amply made up in profundity. He hears theflourishesof those around him, but seems to take little heed of them—and sometimes makes a solemn pause, as if in meditation, while the rest are chattering away. His manner, even when he perfectlyagreeswith what is advanced by others, has a bluffness in it, that is notveryunlikedissent. His arguments are of the sledge-hammer kind, knockingdown contradiction. He is the Doctor Johnson of the society—he settles matters with agrowl. With all his surliness, however, he is a thoroughly good fellow at bottom, and, as he is well-understood, and pretty much humoured, by his associates, the general harmony is none the worse for his presence—nay, rather, would be very sensibly subtracted from, were he absent.—As for thekit, he is a pert little whipper-snapper, with a voice asuppishas his notions ofhimself, and a figureany thingbutsymmetrical, since it is, at once, by an odd contrariety, stunted in height, and lanky in appearance. He is hardly ever seen in the company of his own kith and kin, his own fraternity of the larger growth—for his vanity leads him to seek distinction onanyterms, and so he goes into dancing academies, or among family step-hop-and-jump-learners, where he is a sort of cock-of-the-walk, and where, to judge from the quaint and abruptly intermitted strains that proceed from him, he seems to crow and chuckle at the absurdities of the “awkward squad” whom he delights to set in motion. As he is prone to imitation, and proud of his squeaking voice, you will sometimes hear him mimic the style and accents of his bigger brethren, behind their backs; but these attempts incline you only to a smile—which he mistakes for approbation. On the whole, though tolerated, he is never respected. The very person whointroduceshim into such society as that just mentioned, makes a mere convenience of him; but, because he is usually carried thither in thepocketof his introducer, he fancies himself, forsooth, a prodigious pet! Was there ever such impudence?

If there be, by a strange possibility, any special admirers of the Pigmy, who shall think him too sharply dealt with in the above sketch, let them turn for comfortto Sir John Hawkins, in whose pages they will find mention of a certain London dancing-master, named Pemberton, who was so consummate a handler of the kit, as to be able to play entiresoloson it, and to exhibit in his performance (so declares the statement)allthe graces and elegancies ofthe violin, although himself a man of the most corpulent make! Besides this consolatory reference, let me hint to the affecters of the kit, that possibly the classic term “lyra jocosa” might, without much violence, be appropriated to the honour of their queer little favourite!

A Caricature repudiated.—A correspondent of theHarmonicon, who has played on the violin amusingly enough with hispen, but appears, from sundry indicative points, to have been nobowman, has designated the instrument as “a box, half beech, half fir, on which are stretched the entrails of a cat,” and from which, sounds are drawn “with a few horse-hairs,” and which, moreover, “cannot be held without a distortion of the frame, and obliges us to assume an attitude so disagreeable to the head, by the chin of which, it is held.”—This is a description wherewith the true Amateur will hold no sympathy: he will regard it no otherwise than with “hatefullest disrelish.” He will not fail to remember, too, that it is thesheep’sinterior which is laid under contribution, andnotthecat’s. Then, again, doubtless, the depression of the chinissometimes the reverse of agreeable; but this is an objection rarely in great force, except with those round-headed gentlemen who have short chins. A little punchy man, with a broad, baffling, double chin, cannot be great upon the fiddle—and should not aim at it. It is the business of a perfect performer to have alongchin—a chin whose inclination or “facilis descensus” amounts to a fixed welcometowards the instrument, which it embraces with a continuity that in no degree compromises the head. Such a chin is the fiddler’s firm friend;—its holdfast properties entitle it, as fitly as the virtuous man in Horace, to the appellation of “tenax propositi.” Such a chin, for example, had Paganini.

Ambition let down.—During the last year of Spagnoletti’s Saturnian rule at the Opera-House, when the reins of leadership were somewhat relaxed in the hands of that good senior, it chanced that one of his subjects, scarcely less ambitious than was Jove of old, and equally hopeful of his own succession, aspired prematurely to a position in the orchestral realm as elevated as the throne of the great directing power. In plainer language, a certain noted First Violinist, scarcely satisfied with being second to the Leader, sought to magnify his importance by the help of a stool that was considerably morestiltedin its proportions than that occupied by his brethren of the band. Thus raised into notice, he managed, with many flourishes of his bow-arm, to divide the public attention with the Leader himself, and was enabled to look down on all besides. But pride does not triumph thus tothe end. Spagnoletti himself, perhaps indisposed, through his then feebler condition, to contend with usurpation, took no notice of this upstart proceeding; but the members of the band, feeling it to be an indignity to their Leader, still more than to themselves, took counsel together for the purpose of putting it down. The expedient they hit upon was equally ingenious and successful. One of the carpenters of the establishment had private instructions to saw off a small bit from the lanky legs of the stool, previously to each night’s sitting in the orchestra; and, by this graduated system of reduction, or what musicians wouldterm a “sempre diminuendo,” the obnoxious pretender was “let down easy,” and brought to a reasonable level. Thus, though not going down, in his own estimation, he was much depressed, in the eyes of all beside. Whether he thought it worth while, when he discovered his situation, to enquire how it happened, is more than remains on record—but, if he did so, it is easy to conceive the sort of vague reply by which his mystification would be “made absolute.”

A new resource in difficulty.—The following graphic sketch—a piece of what our American brethren delight to designate as thereal grit—is from Colonel Crockett’s “Adventures in Texas:”—

“As we drew nigh to the Washita, the silence was broken alone by our own talk and the clattering of our horses’ hoofs; and we imagined ourselves pretty much the only travellers, when we were suddenly somewhat startled by the sound of music. We checked our horses, and listened, and the music continued. ‘What can all that mean?’ says I. We listened again, and we now heard, ‘Hail, Columbia, happy land!’ played in first-rate style. ‘That’s fine,’ says I. ‘Fine as silk, Colonel, and leetle finer,’ says the other; ‘but hark, the tune’s changed.’ We took another spell of listening, and now the musician struck up, in a brisk and lively manner, ‘Over the water to Charley.’ ‘That’s mighty mysterious,’ says one; ‘Can’t cipher it out, no-how,’ says a third. ‘Then let us go ahead,’ says I, and off we dashed at a pretty rapid gait, I tell you—by no means slow.

“As we approached the river, we saw, to the right of the road, a new clearing on a hill, where several men were at work, and running down the hill like wild Indians, or rather like the office-holders in pursuit ofthe depositees. There appeared to be no time to be lost; so they ran, and we cut ahead for the crossing. The music continued all this time stronger and stronger, and the very notes appeared to speak distinctly, ‘Over the water to Charley!’

“When we reached the crossing, we were struck all of a heap at beholding a man seated in a sulky, in the middle of the river, and playing for his life on a fiddle. The horse was up to his middle in the water: and it seemed as if the flimsy vehicle was ready to be swept away by the current. Still the fiddler fiddled on composedly, as if his life had been insured, and he was nothing more than a passenger! We thought he was mad,—and shouted to him. He heard us, and stopped his music. ‘You have missed the crossing,’ shouted one of the men from the clearing.—‘IknowI have,’ returned the fiddler.—‘If you go ten feet farther, you will be drowned.’—‘IknowI shall,’ returned the fiddler.—‘Turn back,’ said the man.—‘Ican’t,’ said the other. ‘Then how will youget out?’—‘I’m sure Idon’t know.’

“The men from the clearing, who understood the river, took our horses, and rode up to the sulky, and, after some difficulty, succeeded in bringing the traveller safe to shore, when we recognised the worthyparsonwho had fiddled for us at the puppet-show at Little Rock. They told him that he had had a narrow escape; and he replied, that he had found that out an hour ago! He said he had been fiddling to the fishes for a full hour, and had exhausted all the tunes that he could play without notes. We then asked him what could have induced him to think of fiddling at a time of such peril; and he replied, that he had remarked, in his progress through life, that there was nothing in universal naturso well calculated to draw people together, as the sound of a fiddle; and he knew that he might bawl until he was hoarse for assistance, and no one would stir a peg; but they would no sooner hear the scraping of his catgut, than they would quit all other business, and come to the spot in flocks.”

A prejudice overcome.—Another story of a clergyman fond of fiddling—in this instance, a Scotchman—is to be found inTait’s Magazine.—“A number of his parishioners considered it as quite derogatory to his calling, that he should play upon the fiddle; so a deputation of them waited upon him, and remonstrated against thiscryingenormity. He said—“Gentlemen, did you ever see my fiddle, or hear me play?”—“No!”—“You shall do both,” said he; and immediately brought a violoncello, on which he struck up a Psalm tone, asking if they had any objection to join him with their voices. They complied; and, when all was over, they expressed themselves perfectly satisfied of his orthodoxy. “A muckle, respectable,releegious-sounding fiddle likethat, there was nae harm in. Na, na! it was nane o’ yer scandalous penny-weddin’ fiddles that they had heard o’!”

It will not have been forgotten, by some of my readers, that the musical propensities of the Rev. Charles Wesley were made a subject of stringent comment by the poet Cowper, who pointed his remarks by the line—

“With wire and catgut he concludes the day.”

It is recorded, however (if I rightly remember), that the candid and kind-hearted Cowper saw reason, afterwards, to alter his impressions on that head, and to regret that he had reflected, with such freedom of pen, on the harmless recreations of the earnestly pious minister.

——From the foregoing incidental references to men of the sacred calling, we pass, by no violent transition, into the church-yard. On a stone, in the porch at the southern entrance of the collegiate church, Wolverhampton, is the following singular epitaph. “Near this place lies Claudius Phillips, whoseabsolute contempt of riches, andinimitable performance upon the violin, made him the admiration of all that knew him. He was born in Wales, made the tour of Europe, and, after the experience ofbothkinds of fortune, died in 1733.”

Belonging to the same equivocal species of association with the grave, and by no means to be commended for its admixture of thequaintwith the solemn, is the following “musician’s epitaph,” from whence gotten, I am unable to say:—

Ah! what avails, when wrapped in shroud and pall,Who jigged, who fiddled, or who sang the best?What are tomethe crotchets, quavers, all,When I have found an everlastingrest?

Fifty Years’ Fiddling.—“An interesting jubilee was lately kept here (Mannheim). The scholars of our venerable Orchestra Director, M. Erasmus Eisenmenger, now in his 70th year, met to celebrate the fiftieth year of his life spent as an artist. It is worthy of remark that he played, in thesamemusical saloon, thesameconcerto on the violin that he had executed fifty years ago—as well as a double concerto of Viotti, which he played with his pupil, Chapel-master Frey, with a spirit and vigour quite wonderful at his age.” (Harmonicon, 1830.)—[The curious in coincidences ought to be informed whether it was also thesame fiddle, as formerly, that was thus eloquent in the hands of the worthy old gentleman.]

Another fifty years of it!—Teobaldo Gatti, a native of Florence, died at Paris in 1727, at a very advanced age, after having been, for rather more than half a century, a performer on thebass-violin the orchestra of the Opera there. Is it possible to be more completely identified with one’s instrument?

Glory made out of Shame.—A stranger, visiting Greenwich Hospital, saw a pensioner in a yellow coat, which is the punishment for disorderly behaviour. Surprised at the singularity of the man’s appearance, he asked him what it meant? “Oh, sir,” replied the fellow, “we who wear yellow coats are themusic, and it is I who play thefirst fiddle.” (Hawkins’s anecdotes.)

Discrimination.—“Gentlemen,” said an auctioneer, addressing the bargain-hunters by whom his sale-room was crammed—“the next lot is a very fine-toned violin.”—“A violin, sir!” exclaimed his clerk, in surprise—“You must have made some mistake, sir,—the next lot isthe fiddle!”

The Cremona Fiddle.—Messrs. Schramm and Karstens, the principals of a wealthy house of agency at Hamburg, were eager practitioners of the arts of accumulation. In the month of May, 1794, their extensive warehouse received the honour of a visit from an individual of unexceptionable appearance and costume, who, after bargaining for a certain number of ells of cloth, and ordering them to be cut off from the piece, found, on examination of his purse, that his instant coin was somewhat short of the sum required. He handed over, however, all the cash he had—took an acknowledgment for it—ordered the cloth to be laid aside for him, and arranged to return in a couple of hours with the balance of the money. “By the by,” added he, “I may just as well leave with you thisCremona, which is rather in my way, while I’m running about the town. It is an instrument of particular value, for which I refused yesterday a matter of 300 ducats: place it there in the corner, on the top of the cloth, and it will be quite safe till my return.”

It happened, about an hour afterwards, that a handsome carriage stopped at the door of Messrs. S. and K.’s warehouse. A personage, dressed with the utmost attention to effect, and decorated with various knightly insignia, alighted under an escort of three lacqueys in livery. Mons. Schramm pressed forward to receive him, and conducted him into the warehouse. His highness purchased several small articles, and, whilst expressing his satisfaction at the arrangement and variety of the goods before him, chanced to rest his eyes on the violin. Caught by its appearance, he took it up, turned it over and over, contemplated it with a kindling eye, and, calling forward one of his lacqueys, ordered him to make trial of it. The domestic proceeded to do so in a masterly manner, and drew forth sounds of such harmony as to bring together, by the ears, a listening crowd of mute gapers at so extraordinary a virtuoso. Mons. Schramm and the clerks were warmed up into an admiration far above the commercial temperature; and the whole scene appeared to partake of enchantment. Presently, motioning his domestic to stop, the great man enquired of him, in the presence of all, what he thought of the instrument, and what estimate he should incline to form of its value. “Why, certainly,” said the livery-man, after a pause of examination, “if your Excellency could make it your Excellency’s own for 500 ducats, I should say that your Excellency would be in possession of the finest Cremona fiddle in the world!” The manof distinction took Mons. Schramm aside, and offered him 400: from that he ascended to 500; but the man of commerce told the man of distinction that the instrument belonged to a stranger, and explained the circumstances under which it had been left there. “Now, mark me, Mons. Schramm,” said the great man; “if you can secure me this violin, you shall not repent your having obliged me: do your utmost to make the purchase for me, and go to 500 ducats, if necessary; there’s my address, and I shall expect to see you at five, with the fiddle and the account.”—Mons. Schramm, full of protestations of his readiness to do all in his power, respectfully bows out his visitor.

In an hour or two, the impatiently-expected owner of the instrument makes his re-appearance, takes up his parcel and violin, and is about to depart. “Stay, sir,” said Mons. Schramm, a little embarrassed—“one word with you, if you please—would you feel inclined to s—, to sell that violin? I could make you a good offer for it—say 350 ducats, cash.” The proposition, however, is met by a short and dry answer in the negative, and a renewed movement to depart. Mons. Schramm then offers him 360, and so on, till in short, after considerable discussion, the stranger consents to part with the object of solicitation,—but still as a matter of regret,—for the sum of 470 ducats, and to give a receipt for 500. The bargain is completed, and Mons. Schramm, receiving the fiddle with a chuckle of delight, takes leave of the stranger with lavish civility.

Full of satisfaction at the idea of having made thirty ducats, and the friendly acquaintance of a great man, Mons. Schramm, at the exact hour of five, presented himself at the hotel of St. Petersburg, situated on the Jungfernstieg. With the violin in his hand, andthe receipt for 500 ducats in his pocket, he demanded to speak to his Excellency the Baron De Strogonoff, Ambassador from Russia, to the Court of St. James’s—such being the address given him in the morning by the gentleman with the equipage. He was informed by the porter that he knew nothing of the said nobleman, inasmuch as he had not come to their hotel. Mons. Schramm hereupon insists and grows warm; the servants gather round, and the dispute at length draws forth the master of the hotel, who pledges his word, in positive terms, that the Ambassador in question is not at his establishment! Enquiry is then made at all the large hotels in the town—and, at all, the Baron De Strogonoff is unknown!

It was now high time for Mons. Schramm to consider himself as having been played upon! As for the rogues, they had so well concerted their measures, that all subsequent efforts to discover them proved abortive. Mons. Schramm had full leisure for maledictions upon his own credulity and ultra-commercial spirit; nor did he very speedily get rid of the jests and gibes of his fellow-townsmen, at the piquant fact of his having paid so handsome a sum, for a fiddle that was not worth much more than a ducat!

An apt Quotation.—The felicitous power of allusion which Dean Swift had at his command, was never more pointedly shown, than in his seizure of a line from Virgil, tofitthe circumstances of a certain domestic disaster. Relating from memory, I give but the outline of the story. A lady’s gown (ormantua) accidentally caught fire, and damaged a gentleman’s fiddle, which was lying unfortunately near it. The Dean, either witnessing the accident, or informed of it, exclaimed pathetically,

“Mantua, væ! miseræ nimiùm vicinaCremonæ!”

The “Leading Instrument” victorious.—Anseaume, a French gentleman, of very limited income, hired a small house at Bagnolet, and invited his friends once or twice a-week to come and amuse themselves there. On these occasions, each brought some provisions: one, wine; another, cold meat; another, patties; another, game. It unluckily happened that Anseaume, as absent in mind as straitened in his finances, had forgotten, for a whole year, to pay his rent. The landlord made a descent upon him, precisely on the day when his friends Collé, Panard, Piron, Gillet, the painter Watteau, the musician Degueville, and other epicures, had assembled there. These gentlemen, according to custom, had brought plenty of provender, but no money; and the landlord imperiously demanded his rent of two hundred crowns. What was to be done, in order to assist their friend? They immediately set about cooking the meat and poultry; they levied contributions on the fruit and vegetables of the gardens; Watteau drew a beautiful and inviting sign, and Degueville borrowed aviolinof the parish beadle; in short, they got up acabaretandfête Champêtre. The appearance of these new cooks, who served their customers in habits of embroidered velvet, with swords by their sides, had a curious effect, and greatly diverted the company, which was so numerous, that the receipts amounted to five hundred crowns! Anseaume paid his landlord, and his distress was converted into joy and gladness. But now a question arose, that was discussed with no small earnestness and interest:—To which of his guests was the host most indebted? Those who played the part of cooks, declared that, without their labours, there would have been nothing for the public to eat; Watteau laid no little stress on the invitationheld out by his sign; and Degueville insisted that, without his music, the people’s attention would not have been drawn to the sign; and that, even if they had noticed it, and come in, there would have been no mirth and spirit, little eaten, and that little scantily and reluctantly paid for. The dispute began to grow warm, when Degueville seized the violin, played them all into good humour, and was, at length, allowed to be the victor!

Sending for Time-Keepers.—In treating of the importance of adjusting the time of a composition to the sentiment and intention of the author, it is stated by Kandler, an able German writer, that Haydn was so offended at the rude and hurried manner in which he found his music driven by us English, when he first visited our country, as to send for the family of the Moralts from Vienna, to shew the Londoners the time and expression with which he intended his quartetts to be played.—Kiesewetter also, in leading Beethoven’s symphonies at the Philharmonic Concert (although himself a performer who particularly shone in rapid playing), is said to have insisted upon their being executed more slowly than that orchestra had been accustomed to perform them.

Musical Exaction.—A rich, but penurious personage, who somehow aspired to be thought a man oftaste, was resolved, on one occasion, to make exhibition of this quality, by giving to his friends an entertainment of instrumental music. While the musicians were all at work, he seemed satisfied with the performance—but when the principal Violin came to be engaged upon an incidental solo, he enquired, in a towering passion, why the others were remainingidle? “It is apizzicatofor one instrument,” replied the operator. “I can’t helpthat,” exclaimed the virtuoso, who was determined to have the worth of his money—“Let the trumpetspizzicatoalong with you!”—This hopeful amateur may serve to recall the not unfamiliar anecdote about old Jacob Astley, of “horse-theatre” celebrity, who observed a violinist in his band to be in a state of temporary cessation from playing, during the continued activity of the others, and asked him what hemeantby it. “Why, sir, here’s arestmarked in my part—a rest of several bars.”—“Rest!” shouted Astley (who had always a great horror of being imposed upon), “don’t tell me aboutrest, sir. I pay you to come here andplay, sir, and not torest!”

A Device for a Dinner.—Doctor Arne once went to Cannons, the seat of the late Duke of Chandos, to assist at the performance of an oratorio in the Chapel of Whitchurch, but such was the throng of company, that no provisions were to be procured at the Duke’s house. On going to the Chandos Arms, in the town of Edgeware, the Doctor made his way into the kitchen, where he found only a leg of mutton on the spit. This, the waiter informed him, was bespoken by a party of gentlemen. The Doctor (rubbing his elbow—his usual habit) exclaimed, “I’ll have that mutton—give me afiddle-string.” He took the fiddle-string, cut it in pieces, and, privately sprinkling it over the mutton, walked out of the kitchen. Then, waiting very patiently till the waiter had served it up, he heard one of the gentlemen exclaim—“Waiter! this meat is full ofmaggots: take it away!” This was what the Doctor expected.—“Here, give itme.”—“O, sir,” says the waiter, “you can’t eat it—’tis full of maggots.”—“Nay, never mind,” cries the Doctor, “fiddlers have strong stomachs.”So, bearing it away, and scraping off the catgut, he got a hearty dinner.

A “Practising” Coachman.—Too true it is that Nature has not gifted all mortals with a taste for music. Shakspeare tells us that the man who hath not music in his soul is fit for “broils;” and the Duchess of Ragusa appears to have inclined to his opinion, if we may judge from an occurrence in which she was concerned some years since. Finding herself offended that the coachman of a certain Miss Ozenne, her neighbour, should practise the violin too much in the vicinity of her ducal ears, she summoned the lady, the coachman, and the violin, before theTribunal de Police, for making a “tapage injurieux et nocturne.” In vain the lady pleaded the right of her domestics to make musicians of themselves, if they could: the Duchess declared it was done solely and purely for her annoyance; theCommissaire du Quartierdeclared that the noise consisted of “sons aigus, bruyans, et dissonans;” and Miss Ozenne was condemned to be imprisoned one day, and to be fined to the amount of ten shillings.—(New Monthly Magazine.)

A Footman, to match.—“The following curiously illustrative anecdote may be relied on. A few days since, a footman went into Mori’s music-shop to buy a fiddle-string. While he was making his choice, a gentleman entered the shop, and began to examine various compositions for the violin. Among the rest, he found Paganini’s celebrated “Merveille—Duopour unseulViolon,” and, perceiving the difficulties in which it abounded, asked the shopman if he thought that Mori himself could play it. The young man, a little perplexed, and unwilling to imply that his master’s powers had any limit, replied that he had no doubt he couldperform it,providedhe practised it fora week; upon which the footman, who stood intent on the conversation, broke in on the discourse, and swore that Mori could do no such thing, for that he himself had been practising the piece forthree weeks, and could not play it yet!”—(Harmonicon,May, 1830.)

A Royal “Whereabout.”—Salomon, who gave some lessons on the violin to George the Third, said one day to his august pupil, “Fiddlers may be divided into three classes: to thefirstbelong those who cannot playat all; to thesecond, those who playbadly; and to the third, those who playwell. You, Sire, have already reached thesecond.”

Precocious Performers.—The violin, in the hands ofchildren, has been often rendered the theme of astonishment. In the foregoing pages, many instances have been given of eminent players, whose powerful maturity was prefigured, in the display of genius made in their tender youth. Many blossoms there are, however, whichneverpay their promise afterwards in fruit; and many an “acute juvenal, voluble and full of grace,” has made early flourishes on the fiddle, that have led to nothing of value in his fuller years. Apropos of this too commonly observable disproportion, a French writer has the following epigram:—

SUR LES PRODIGES À LA MODE.Plus merveilleux que nos ancêtres,Ou peut-être plus singuliers,A dix ans nous avons des maîtres,Qui sont à vingt des écoliers!

Which may be thus freely paraphrased:—

Our’s is an age of wonders;—we beholdPrecocious prodigies, in passing plenty:We have ourmasters, now, at ten years old,—But then—they sink toscholars, when they’re twenty!

The Germans have an expressive denomination for these very early and forced exhibitants. They style themwunderkind, or wonder-children.

After hearing some violin variations rattled through at a Vienna Concert by a six-year old performer, son of a M. Birnbach, a prognosticator was heard to say, with a gravity that scarcely seemed unreasonable: “Well! I foresee that, before many years are passed, we shall have a symphony of Haydn’s performed by babes in swaddling-clothes!”

As a matter of curiosity, I will here subjoin a few records of early feats, without attempting to distinguish those which may belong simply to the class ofwunder-kinde.

Weichsel, the brother of Mrs. Billington, played in public with his sister, when she wassixyears old, and himself a year older—their instruments being the violin and the pianoforte.—Balfe, the singer and composer, made a kind ofdébutas a juvenile violin-player (according to theHarmonicon) at a theatrical benefit.—Two Hungarian boys, of the name of Ebner, one ten and the other eleven, played some of Mayseder’s difficult variations at a Concert at Berlin, in 1823.—A boy of twelve years of age, named Khayll, pupil of Jansa, introduced by Moscheles at a Concert at Vienna in 1827, played some admirable variations on the violin, in which he displayed an ease and solidity far beyond his years, and a great knowledge of his instrument.—At Limberg, in 1831, Apollinarino Conski,fiveyears old, surprised all hearers by his execution of a concerto of Maurer’s; and the son of this last-named Artist, at the age of twelve, performed in the same year some of Mayseder’s variations, at his father’s Concerts at Berlin.

At Stutgardt, in 1831, the brothers Eickhorn, theeldernine, and the youngersevenyears of age, gave a Concert at one of the saloons, and astonished not only the public in general, but the connoisseurs, by their early proficiency on that most difficult of instruments here under notice. The elder played variations by Mayseder and Rode, and a potpourri with his younger brother, composed by Jacobi—and some variations of Kummer’s.

In various towns of Switzerland, during the same year, the four brothers Koella, of Zurich, gave Concerts with great success. These boys were then respectively twelve, ten, nine, and seven years of age—“small by degrees, and beautifully less.” The elder played the violin and violoncello with great spirit and power; the third was a good tenor-player; and the youngest executed concertos of Viotti’s! Their quartett-playing, however, was their strongest point.

Dr. Crotch, when aboutfiveyears old, was capable of fiddling, and after a fashion, too, by no means common to others—that is to say,left-handed.

Fiddlers’ Tricks.—In 1731, a Concert was announced at Hickford’s room, for the benefit of Signor Castrucci,first violin of the Opera, who, as the advertisement stated, was to play, amongst other pieces, a solo, in which he would execute “twenty-four” notes with one bow.” On the following day, this advertisement was burlesqued by another, in which was promised a solo by thelast violin of Goodman’s Fields’ Playhouse, who would performtwenty-fivenotes with one bow. Such a feat as either of these, would, in our own days, be nothing at all.

A Signor Angelo Casirola, of Tortona, mystified the good people of Milan, in 1825, by playing thereverseway—that is, playing witha fiddleupona bow! Hisplan was to fasten the bow in an upright position upon a table, and play upon it with the violin, according to the best manner in which he could manage to “rub on.” The effect was unpleasing, both to ear and eye. Another of his tricks was asonata scherzosa, for which he had two violinsfixed, with the heads screwed on a table, and then worked away right and left, with a bow in each hand, accompanied by a full orchestra. He fooled his audience to the top of their bent, and was applauded to the very echo! It might assist the gratification of the gapers after novelty, if the thaumaturgist, operating with his left hand, as usual, on the finger-board of his instrument, were to have thebowheld and worked byanother person. The Chinese flutists have done something like this inprinciple—one blowing the flute which another has played on! More wonderful still—at some entertainments given by their Emperor, two musicians played together the same air, each having one hand on his own flute, and the other on that of his companion!

At Munich, in 1827, M. Féréol Mazas raised a public astonishment somewhat akin to that created in London more recently by Paganini, as an operator onone string: and, indeed, all the moreobviouspeculiarities in the performance of the great Italian artist—those pertaining to mechanical dexterity—have been copied, more or less successfully. Assuming to be “the English Paganini,” a certain individual, of no distinction at that time as a legitimate player, was particularly prominent in this business of imitation. He presented, sooth to say, but a soul-less exhibition, having some of the externals of similitude, indeed, but none of that which “passethshow.” Upon the auditors scraped together, however, his “ad captandum” tricks appearedto tell abundantly—more especially when he worked with his left hand the pizzicato accompaniment to the bowed passages; when he brought out some harmonics frombelow, instead ofabove, the finger-stops; when (by way of goingbeyondPaganini) he thrust the instrument between the hair and stick of the relaxed bow, and thus played on the strings with theinnerhair: and, above all, when he placed the bow between his knees, and, taking the fiddle in both hands, rubbed the strings against it, so as to execute some difficulties of which a judicious observer might have well regretted the possibility! One of the least pardonable of the faults attending this display, was that his instrument did not alwaystell the truth: in other words, its intonation was sometimes false.

ECCENTRIC VARIETIES OF THE VIOLIN KIND.

The Fiddle of Iceland.—“Sir Joseph Banks and Dr. Solander, when they visited this island in 1773, brought thence a very ancient musical instrument, of a long and narrow form, which used to be played on with a bow; and of which they did me the honour to make me a present. It is called by the natives theLong-Spiel, and has four strings of copper, one of which is used as a drone. Pieces of wood are placed at different distances upon the finger-board, to serve as frets. Though this individual instrument has the appearance of great antiquity, yet, rude and clumsy as it is, there can be no doubt but that it was still more imperfect in its first invention: for, to have placed these frets, implies some small degree of meditation, experience, and a scale; and as to the bow, that wonderful engine! which the ancients, with all their diligence and musical refinements, had never been able to discover, it seems,from this instrument, to have been known in Iceland at least as early as in any other part of Europe. Sir Joseph Banks and Dr. Solander, when they found theLong-Spielon the island, had very great difficulty in discovering a person among the inhabitants who either could, or would dare to play on it. At length a wicked Icelander was found, who, being rendered more courageous and liberal than the rest, by a few glasses of generous gin, ventured, in secret, to exhilarate these philosophers ... with a psalm-tune.”—Burney’s Hist. of Music, v. iii, p. 40, 41.

Fiddle of Tartary.—The Tartars have an instrument peculiar to themselves, which they denominate akoba. It is akindof violin, half open at the top, in shape somewhat resembling a boat, having two hair-strings, which are swept with a bow, the notes being stopped by the fingers of the left hand, as in performing on the recognized violin.

African Fiddle.—The Mosees, Mallowas, Burnous, and natives from the more remote parts of the interior, play on arude violin. The body is a calabash; the top is covered with deer-skin, and two large holes are cut in it for the sound to escape: the strings, or rather the string, is composed of cow’s hair, and broad, like that of the bow with which they play, which resembles the bow of a violin. Their grimace equals that of an Italianbuffo: they generally accompany themselves with the voice, and increase the humour by a strong nasal sound.—Bowdich’s Mission to Ashantee.

“At parting, he (Bee Simera, a king in the Kooranko Country) sent hisgriot, or minstrel, to play before me, and sing a song of welcome. This man had a sort of fiddle, the body of which was formed of a calabash, in which two small square holes were cut, to give it atone. It had only one string, composed of many twisted horse-hairs, and, although he could only bring from it four notes, yet he contrived to vary them so as to produce a pleasing harmony(!) He played at my door till I fell asleep, and, waking at day-break, his notes still saluted my ears; when, finding that his attendance would not be discontinued without adouceur, I gave him a head of tobacco, and told him to go home and thank his master.”—Major Laing’s Travels in Western Africa.

“The admirers of Paganini (says Dr. Hogg, in his “Visit to Alexandria”) may learn with surprise that a species of Violin, with a single string, is not only well-known in Egypt, but is frequently played in the streets, with extraordinary skill. Of the celebrated Italian, the Egyptians never heard; but they often listen with delight to the melodious sounds drawn forth from a single string by a wild untutored Arab.”

Greek Fiddle.—M. Fauriel, in his “Chants Populaires de la Grèce Moderne,” says that the Greeks accompany their songs by an instrument with strings, which is played with a bow, and that this is exactly the ancient lyre of the Greeks, of which it retains the name as well as the form. This lyre, he adds, when perfect, consists of five strings, but it has frequently but two or three.

Thebowis of course a modern accessory, and must have changed, materially, the mode of playing the instrument, as well as its effect.

An Eight-Stringed Violin.—Prinz, in his History, assures us that, about the year 1649, Lord Somerset invented a new kind of violin, which had eight strings, instead of four; and that, in the hands of a master who knew how to avail himself of its advantages, it wasproductive of very extraordinary effects. To the truth of this, Kircher bears witness. A violin, with eight strings, was also played on by a M. Urhan, at a concert at the FrenchConservatoire Royal, in 1830.

An intermediate Instrument.—With the plausible view of filling up a void in the range of stringed instruments—that which occurs through the interval of anoctavebetween the pitch of the viola and the violoncello—a new instrument of the violin class was invented, a few years ago, by a French Amateur, who proposed to designate it theContralto. Its four strings were tuned an octave below those of the violin, and, consequently, a fourth below the common viola, or tenor, and a fifth above the violoncello. In quartetts (according to the inventor) thesecond violinmight in future be replaced by theviola, and the viola by theContralto; which latter would possess the further advantage of enabling its player to execute with ease those high passages that are so difficult on the violoncello.—That an instrument thus designedmightsometimes participate effectively in orchestral business, is extremely probable; but that it should displace in quartetts thesecond violin, the importance of which, as an aid, arises so much from its brilliancy, is notat allto be supposed. The truth appears to be, that what is here referred to as an invention, possesses little claim to that character; for it was preceded bythe baryton, a stringed instrument of a character between the tenor and violoncello, which has now entirely fallen into disuse. Prince Nicholas Esterhazy, an ardent musical Amateur, was very fond of this instrument: and Haydn, who composed a great number of pieces for it, in order to supply the Prince’s incessant demand for novelty, frequently said that the necessity he was under of composing somuch for the baryton, contributed greatly to his improvement.

Something more than a Violin!—M. Vincenti, a lute-master at Florence, invented, some years ago, a violin witheighteen stringsandtwo bows, and called it theViolon-Général, because it combined (or professed to combine), with the tones of the violin, those of the contra-basso, the violoncello, and the viola!

An Air Violin.—A new and ingeniously invented instrument was presented, some years since, to the “Académie des Sciences” of Paris, by M. Isoard. It resembled the common violin, with the strings extended between two wooden (or metal) blades. It was vibrated upon at one end by acurrent of air, while, at the other, the player shortened the strings by the pressure of the finger. In fact, the strings of this instrument were acted upon by the current of air,insteadof the commonbow. The sounds were said to vary between those of the French horn and bassoon. Were it possible for this invention to come into ordinary use, the violin would have to be classed as awind-instrument!

Automaton Violinist.—“After the extraordinary performance of Paganini and Ole Bull, our readers will not be surprised at any new development of the powers of this instrument, however great; but there are few in the world who will hear, without wonder and admiration, of the unequalled performance of Monsieur Marreppe’sautomaton violin-player, which was recently exhibited before the Royal Conservatory at Paris. Our informant, M. Bruyère, who was present, thus describes this wonderful piece of mechanism: “On entering the saloon, I saw a well-dressed handsome figure of a man, apparently between forty and fifty, standing with a violin in his hand, as if contemplating a piece of music whichlay on a desk before him; and, had I not gone to see an automaton, I should have believed the object before me to have been endowed with life and reason, so perfectly natural and easy were the attitudes and expression of countenance of the figure! I had but little time for observation, before the orchestra was filled by musicians, and, on the leader taking his seat, the figure instantly raised itself erect, bowed with much elegance two or three times, and then, turning to the leader, nodded, as if to say he was ready, and placed his violin to his shoulder. At the given signal, he raised his bow, and, applying it to the instrument, produced,à la Paganini, one of the most thrilling and extraordinary flourishes I ever heard, in which scarcely a semitone within the compass of the instrument was omitted; and this, executed with a degree of rapidity and clearness perfectly astonishing. The orchestra then played a short symphony, in which the automaton occasionally joined in beautiful style: he then played a most beautiful fantasia in E natural, with accompaniments, including a movementallegro moltoon the fourth string solo, which was perfectly indescribable. The tones produced were like any thing but a violin; and expressive beyond conception. I felt as if lifted from my seat, and burst into tears, in which predicament I saw most persons in the room. Suddenly, he struck into a cadenza, in which the harmonics, double and single, arpeggios on the four strings, and saltos, for which Paganini was so justly celebrated, were introduced with the greatest effect; and, after a close shake of eight bars’ duration, commenced the coda, a prestissimo movement, played in three parts throughout. This part of the performance was perfectly magical. I have heard the great Italian—I have heard the Norwegian—I have heard the best of music—but I never heardsuch sounds as then saluted my ear. It commencedp p p, rising by a gradualcrescendoto a pitch beyond belief, and then, by a gradualmorendoandcalando, died away, leaving the audience absolutely enchanted. Monsieur Marreppe, who is a player of no mean order, then came forward amidst the most deafening acclamations, and stated that, emulated by the example of Vaucanson’s flute-player, he had conceived the project of constructing this figure, which had cost him many years of study and labour before he could bring it to completion. He then showed to the company the interior of the figure, which was completely filled withsmall cranks, by which the motions are given to the several parts of the automaton, at the will of the conductor, who has the whole machine so perfectly under control, that Monsieur Marreppe proposes that the automaton shall perform any piece of music which may be laid before him, within a fortnight. He also showed that to a certain extent the figure was self-acting, as, on winding up a string, several of the most beautiful airs were played, among which were “Nel cor più,” “Partant pour la Syrie,” “Weber’s last Waltz,” and “La ci darem la mano,” all with brilliant embellishments. But thechef-d’œuvreis the manner in which the figure is made to obey the direction of the conductor, whereby it is endowed with a sort of semi-reason.”—Galignani’s Messenger.

The Street Fiddler.—Behold the poor fellow, as he stands there in the sun, against that dead wall, with a face that betrays many a foregone year of patient endurance, and a figure that is the very index to “narrow circumstances.” His old brown great coat, loose and hard-worn—his battered hat—his shoes unconsciousof blacking—are the vouchers of his low estate. He wears “the hapless vesture of humility.” He is half-blind, and will bewhollyso before long, for blindness is the badge of his sad tribe;—butthen—he will have acompanion, in thedogthat will lead him about!

See, how sobered is his style of execution—how passive his action! The fire of enthusiasm is not forhim: he can but shew the plodding of a quiet spirit. He holdeth his bow, not as your topping players do, but with a third part of its length below his hand. He finds this plan the easiest, because it is his wont to work more from theshoulderthan thewrist! Think no scorn of him, ye great artists—yetriumphanteuphonists! He is self-taught,—or, which is the same thing, hath learned of his father, who wasalter ipse, and who himself got his knowledge “in the family.” Yet, though his bow-arm hath none of the sweep that belongs to science, behold how he puts mettle into the heels of infancy, and even peradventure brings a wriggle into the sides of old age: such power is there in the notes of a fiddle, even in the hands of decrepitude itself! The nursery-maids, who cannot condescend totalkwith a street-fiddler, as they would with a young policeman, accord a smile, nevertheless, to some of his “passages,” and a halfpenny to his pauperism. Musician as he is, or would becalled(for poverty has its pride), do not test him with terms, or ask him the meaning of a “common chord:” he will think you design to insult his misery with a dependent allusion! Himharmonyconcerneth not, nor counterpoint either;—he is a simplemelodist, and, to him, a few old tunes are the entire world of music. After all, too, the finest melody inhisear, is the sound of human sympathy; and the best of music is the rattle of frequent halfpence in his hat—a hat bynight, a money-box by day! His daily gains, what are they? A sorry pittance, truly; yet the poor old fellow, albeit no classic, manages to live on the Horatian plan, “contentus parvo,” and is very far from being the most thankless of mortals, although

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