The Violin / Some Account of That Leading Instrument and Its Most Eminent Professors, from Its Earliest Date to the Present Time; with Hints to Amateurs, Anecdotes, etc.

by George Dubourg

CHAPTER VI.

THE ENGLISH SCHOOL.

... a crescent; and my auguring hope
Says it will come to the full.—Shakspeare.

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

In addition to the two sources of impediment just noticed, may we venture to glance at a third? There is another gloom, besides that of our skies, that has had its obstructive influence, and still, in some degree, retains it. England, happily for her own comfort, has now left far behind her those puritanic days wherein all persons who ministered to the amusement of their fellow-beings were stigmatized as the “caterpillars of a common-wealth,” and found law and opinion alike arrayed against them;—but the spirit of Puritanism, once so tyrannically exclusive, has never since departed wholly from among us—and we have, to this day, many sincere and well-meaning compatriots, whose peculiar notions of what constitutes piety, lead them to look with distrust and suspicion upon all that is beautiful in Nature or in Art, and so, to consider musical talent rather as a snare to be shunned, than as a resource to be cherished. These movers-in-a-mist, and extra-burden-bearers, confounding into one the two ideas of cultivation and corruption, as if the terms were synonymous, refuse all countenance to music, as an art. Its secular forms, in particular, are their aversion; for they have a strong impression that music is then, only, in its right place, when directly employed in the service of the sanctuary. They discover, even in an Oratorio, copious matter for reprobation. They have no sympathy with the practice of the sweetly majestic Psalmist of Israel, who brought together, to aid in the solemnities of public worship, all that was best in vocal and instrumental skill. Vociferated dissonance, exempt from rule, and from accompaniment, has their approval, far above any tempered and balanced harmony; because (as they persuade themselves) the one comes from the heart, and the other does not. To such persons, I can only (in the words of the Archbishop of Granada to Gil Blas) wish all happiness, and a little more taste—regretting that the influence of what I conceive to be their mistake should have helped, with the other cited causes, to lessen the diffusion among us of the most delightfully recreative of all the arts, which, thus discouraged, has been driven to become the spoiled favourite of the great and rich, instead of being the constant friend and solace of the whole community.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It appears that the name of this artist is the first on record in connection with the performance of a violin concerto on the stage of an English theatre. At the oratorios given by Handel at Covent Garden in 1741 and 42, Dubourg occupied the ears and eyes of the public, in that way, for many successive nights. Several other performers took the hint, and started upon the same footing soon after[57]. This sort of exhibition, after some years, seems to have grown too common, to satisfy the public appetency; wherefore a Signor Rossignol, in 1776, undertook to perform after a mode which we should now style à la Paganini: indeed he seemed to go beyond the modern “miracle of man,” for he advertised “a concerto on the violin, without strings.” Whether the joke turned on the plural number, in particular, or (as the lawyers say) how otherwise, it is now impossible to ascertain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Non bene conveniunt, nec in unâ sede morantur, Plutus et Euterpe!”

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

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

“To snatch a grace beyond the reach of art—”

to awaken, through the magic of expression, those deeper sensibilities in which music finds the truest source of its empire. Mori’s playing, with its powers and its deficiencies, was admirably suited to the apprehension and desires of a fashionable audience. It was showy, but not profound; striking, but not moving; full of artificial neatness, with little of natural grace. His hand wrought to more purpose than his mind. He was (before the malady that finally subdued him) a man of rigid nerve, and had all the advantages that confidence could bestow,—and these, especially in solo playing, are far from inconsiderable—but then, for want of the sensitiveness pertaining to a more delicate organization, he lost the finest part of what might have been accomplished. He has occupied a very marked place amongst English instrumentalists; but, for the reasons here alleged, the impression he produced seems not likely to prove of a very durable character, so as to secure to him any considerable future importance in musical annals. As a composer for his instrument, he possessed very slender pretensions. His performance itself, admirable as it was in some points, sufficiently shewed why he could not hope to distinguish himself in composition. The few manifestations he made in that way have given no cause for regretting his general habit of trusting to the works of others, for the musical ideas which he had to convey[59].

Mr. Loder, of Bath, long prominent among provincials, and not unknown in the metropolis, was justly esteemed for his knowledge of the orchestra, and his utility as an able leader.

Mr. Henry Gattie, welcomed in his youthful days as a charming solo-player, in which capacity he ran for a time a pretty close race with Mori, has since contented himself, for the most part, with the less ambitious employment of orchestral playing; but his finished taste, and true musical feeling, ensured him a very favourable attention, when, on the memorable occasion of the experiment at Quartett performances (to be presently referred to), he took the Second Violin part among the confraternity at the Hanover Square Rooms.

Antonio James Oury was born in London, in the year 1800. His father, a native of Nice, of noble descent, left home to follow the early campaigns of the then General Buonaparte—was taken prisoner by the English, and lodged near Southampton, at which place he married, in 1799, the daughter of a Mr. Hughes, not unknown in literary circles—and then followed the joint profession of musician and dancing-master, possessing, at the same time, great natural capacity for several branches of the fine arts.

The subject of our present sketch, at the age of three years, commenced his infantine attentions to the violin, under the tuition of his own father, and of the father of our talented composer, George Macfarren. In 1812, young Oury became the pupil of three eminent professors—Mori, Spagnoletti, and Kiesewetter. In 1820, he heard Spohr for the first time: as a result of the impression then received, his perseverance became so great, that, for the space of seven months, he practised no less than fourteen hours a-day! In the same year, he went to Paris, to study under those magnates of the modern French School of the Violin—Baillot, Kreutzer, and Lafont. From each of these masters (and without the knowledge of the others) our young artist managed to take two lessons a week, for several successive winters, at the same time studying composition under Monsieur Fétis. He then made his début at the London Philharmonic Society, at the Concert given for the widow and family of his late master, Kiesewetter. He also became a member of the “Ancient Concerts,” Philharmonic, and Opera orchestras, and joint leader with François Cramer, at the Birmingham, York, Leicester, and Derby Musical Festivals—and also made several operatic tours in Ireland and elsewhere.

In 1826, Oury was engaged as Leader of the Ballet, Sub-Leader of the Opera, and Solo-Violin, at the King’s Theatre; and, as successor of Mori and Lacy, he held this tripartite post for five years—displaying, whensoever the occasion permitted, the graces of a light and free execution.

In 1831, Mr. Oury married the distinguished pianiste, Mad^lle. Belleville, whose father had also been an officer of Napoleon’s, and was afterwards French Tutor to the Princesses of Bavaria. His first trip with Madame Oury was to Liverpool, as Leader of De Begnis’ Italian Opera, where they gave, conjointly with Paganini, a grand Concert at the Theatre Royal, in behalf of the local poor. In 1832, they left England for Hamburgh, Berlin, St. Petersburgh, and Moscow, giving (in all) twenty-three Concerts, during a residence of two years, in Russia, and returning (after playing at the Imperial Court) to Berlin. They next visited Leipzig, Dresden, Prague, and Vienna—making a brilliant sojourn of two years in the Austrian capital. Mr. Oury visited Pesth and Buda, alone and gave seven Concerts, with great success and profit; played in presence of the Imperial Court, at the Bourge Theatre, Vienna, and returned to Munich. Again (accompanied by Madame Oury) he gave Concerts in all the principal towns of the Rhine, till they arrived in Holland, where Madame Oury was attacked by a serious illness, which interrupted a number of professional engagements. After a successful tour, however, to all the chief towns of Holland, they returned to Dusseldorf, on the occasion of the first performance of Mendelssohn’s Oratorio of “Paulus.” At Aix-la-Chapelle, they gave Concerts in conjunction with their friends Malibran and De Beriot—visited Belgium—played at the Court—and then resided two years in Paris, with Paganini, at the Neotherme. During this period, Mr. Oury entered the orchestra of “Les Italiens” (then performing at the Odéon), and made himself conversant with the operas of Donizetti, under the author’s own conducting. Subsequently, he returned to England, after an absence of nine years.

In 1846 and 47, again visiting Italy, Mr. Oury and his accomplished partner gave Concerts at Rome, Naples, Venice and Milan, and returned to England in 1848. Mr. Oury next accepted the post of Leader of the Seconds, on the notable occasion of Mr. Balfe’s forming a new orchestra (to meet the opposition of the Royal Italian Opera), at Covent Garden.

Before taking leave of the subject of this notice, a few particulars remain to be added. Mr. Oury, with his accomplished wife, has composed a number of brilliant Drawing-Room Duetts Concertante, for piano and violin, which have procured their entrée to most of the musical saloons and Courts of Europe. Mr. Oury has had no scanty share of honours bestowed on him—such as the being appointed one of the Professors at the Royal Academy of Music in London, at the time of its foundation—a member of several Continental Philharmonic Societies—and an honorary member of the Academy and Congregation of St. Cecilia, at Rome. By these distinctions, it is sufficiently denoted that he has secured to himself a reputation through a large part of musical Europe.

It has been said, that a sense of injustice during the encounter with professional jealousies in the home field of exertion, first drove this clever artist to take a wider range, and visit continental cities. If so, he has no reason to regret the event, having abundantly “seen the world,” and gathered of its laurels to any reasonable heart’s content.

Among the professional pupils whom Mr. Oury has had the honour of aiding in their early practice, may be mentioned the well-known composers, George Macfarren and Sterndale Bennett, and (of amateurs) that distinguished dilettante and classical violinist, the present Earl Falmouth.

Joseph Haydon Bourne Dando, well-entitled to honourable mention among English violin-players, was born at Somers Town, in the year 1806. At an early age he had developed a taste for music, and, under the guidance of his uncle, Signor Brandi, attained to considerable facility of execution on his instrument.

In 1819, he was placed under the tuition of Mori with whom he continued his studies (off and on) for about seven years, although no great cordiality appears to have been established between them. They were, in fact, of essentially different temperaments. After some years of practical training, during which he had mastered most of the difficulties written as concertos and studies for the violin—finding the influence, as well as the disposition, of his master, opposed to the display of his acquirements in what may be termed musical gymnastics, our young artist wisely (and, for the advancement of musical taste in this country, fortunately) turned his genius and talents to useful account, in studying and illustrating the higher order of beauties contained in those charming works which had been written, by some of the great masters in composition, for “chamber-performance;” more especially the quartetts of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Spohr, &c.

Although opportunities for exhibiting his proficiency, as a solo-player, were restricted, they could not be entirely suppressed. Enough has transpired to warrant us in the conclusion, that, with a fair field, Mr. Dando might, in that branch of his art, at the present day, have stood second to none. As a quartett-player, he has achieved a reputation which places him in the front rank of contemporary violinists.

Any notice of Mr. Dando’s professional career, which should pretend to throw a light on his progress and present position as an artist, must necessarily include much that properly belongs to a history of the rise and progress of Quartett-performances in England. It is to him, probably, that we are indebted, not only for the first public introduction of the Quartett in London, but also, in a great degree, for our present familiar acquaintance with those elegant works, which have of late years so largely contributed to the increase of our musical enjoyment. A license may therefore be reasonably solicited for diverging into matter which, under other circumstances, might appear foreign to the purpose of a mere biographical sketch. It is presumed, however, that no apology will be required for crossing the strict boundary line, by stating some of the following particulars; seeing that they, in reality, are quite apropos of the general design of this work, and come with propriety under the present section of it.

From his youth upwards, Mr. Dando’s society appears to have been courted, and his talents appreciated, by most of the amateurs of music in that part of our metropolis designated as the City, where more intimately he was known, owing to early introduction; and where his agreeable manners, added to his professional merits, contributed to the formation of some lasting friendships, as well as valuable connexions. Of these gentlemen, some were well skilled in the performance of the favourite works of the great quartett writers; and a larger number were qualified to form an accurate estimate of their merits. The charm of Mr. Dando’s style, as a quartett-player, had in due time (about the year 1834-5) rendered the fact apparent to his friends, that the choice works of those masters, which were the delight of the initiated, still remained “a sealed book,” not only to the general public, but even to the ordinary habitué of the concert-room; and it was thought that they only required a fair introduction, to secure to them that favour in public, which they so largely attracted in those private musical circles where they were familiarly known. Accordingly, in the year 1835, a subscription was opened amongst the amateurs—Mr. Dando’s more immediate admirers—for the purpose of submitting some of these works to more open notice. An occasion of distress was selected as an excuse for an evening’s public performance of quartetts, trios, &c. the profits of which were to be presented to a worthy individual who had fallen into pecuniary difficulties, and was about to quit our shores, to better his fortunes in America. A party was formed, with Mr. Dando at its head, and the First (as far as we have been able to ascertain) Public Quartett Concert in this country, was given on the 23rd September, 1835, at the Horn Tavern, Doctors’-Commons. This presentation was the commencement of an epoch in the musical history of this country. On the occasion, the amateurs mastered in force, and brought their friends, to support the two-fold object they had espoused. The evening passed away in raptures. A second public trial was immediately undertaken, and announced for the 12th October, in the same year; and then a third (on the 26th October), each, in succession, proving more widely attractive than its predecessors. So unequivocal was the success of these experiments on public taste, and such was the furore excited in the musical world by them, that from these performances may be dated the establishment of Quartett Concerts in this country.

As might be expected, the first blow so effectively struck, led, by its own impulse, to a regular series, which followed at rapid intervals (first at the same rooms, and afterwards at the London Tavern), between the 13th January, 1836, and the 31st January, 1838, two consecutive seasons.

In the mean time, an early spark had fired the train, and the idea extended to the west end of the town, where a company of talented professors combined to set on foot a sequence of similar attractions; and four had been quickly announced under the title of “Concerti da Camera,” at the Hanover Square Rooms, for the 7th and 21st of November, 5th and 19th of December, 1835. At the fourth of these meetings, Mr. Dando was engaged to play the principal viola part in Spohr’s Third Double Quartett. The effect of his performance of the part was notable; inasmuch as it led to an immediate invitation from Messrs. H. G. Blagrove and Lucas (the principal Violin and Violoncello on that occasion) to join them in the formation of a select party, for the more perfect study and presentation of Quartetts and other chamber instrumental compositions, which, by this time, were beginning to attract universal attention. Mr. Dando acceded to the proposition, and enrolled himself as the tenor-player of a party which was completed by the subsequent adhesion of Mr. Henry Gattie, as second violinist. The party, thus constituted, brought before the public the first of their “Quartett Concerts” at the Hanover Square Rooms, on the evening of the 17th March, 1836, with a completeness of effect in the ensemble, that threw all prior performances of their kind into the shade.

Under the impression produced by an audience of these interesting confederates, was penned the piece of panegyric that here-under asks the indulgent attention of such of my readers as are tolerant of verse:—

Happy the man of taste that’s led Hither, to have his cravings fed! He who this dainty circle nears, Takes in ambrosia at the ears, Through a new sense, revives a fable, And finds a feast that needs no table! When thus as one are met these four, What treat can Music yield us more? Ye birds, that haunt by night or day grove, Yield, yield in dulcetry to Blagrove! Say, is he not, while warbling now, Well worthy of a topmost bough? And do not these, that add their claim, Put all your “sylvan choirs” to shame? What think ye, feathered ones! of notes So ravishing—and not from throats? [298] How sweet, and exquisitely natty, Those trills ancillary, from Gattie! And list! t’ enhance our joy what can do The “even tenor” of smooth Dando. Then, in the stream of sound to hook us “Deeper, and deeper still,” comes Lucas. Felicity, with clearest voice, Calls here on Echo to rejoice! Desire may here, with resting feet, Sit still—nor care to shift her seat. —Who-e’er thou art, that long’st to feel, Psha! Twitch no more “the electric eel!” Nor dream thy languor to dispel By bathos of “the diving bell!” If in thy brain one corner yet To dozing dulness be unlet— If ’scape thou would’st from stupor’s net, And, like a man just free from debt, Thy load of lumpishness forget— Come! for one hour be Pleasure’s pet! Oh, come, and hear a choice Quartett Diffused[60] by this consummate set!

About the time that gave birth to the intentions of this party, Mori—then at the zenith of his powers—finding that his juniors in the profession were taking steps in advance of him[61], and determining upon the maintenance of his position, organized a party in which Messrs. Watts, Moralt, and Lindley were his coadjutors. Without much prelude, they commenced operations on the growingly attractive Quartett, by giving three “Classical Chamber Concerts” at Willis’s Rooms, on the 6th and 20th January, and 3rd February, 1836.

The flood-tide of public favor had now set in. We find no less than four distinct parties of leading professors embarked in serial quartett-performances; with others, occasionally launching on the swelling current, just for a little cruize. “Chamber Concerts” became the fashion; “Musical Réunions,” “Soirées Musicales,” and “Classical Instrumental Concerts,” multiplied almost ad infinitum. “The Beethoven Society” was formed, and a host of others followed suit—their names “legion”—all under favour of the absorbing interest in the Quartett. In short, since the season of 1836, these deserving works have become recognized and claimed as Public Property—witness the advertising columns of the diurnal and periodical press, which teem with announcements, in every form of allurement, inviting support.

Of all these associated parties, none has attained such distinguished popularity, and secured such unqualified approbation, as that of Messrs. Blagrove, Gattie, Dando, and Lucas. At an early stage of their career (the 23rd May, 1836), they were invited to perform at the “Philharmonic,” where they produced a sensation which at once established them on the pinnacle of public favour. From that date up to the 29th April, 1842 (the close of their seventh season), they continued their combined operations, with unabated éclat, at the Hanover Square Rooms. About that period, Mr. Blagrove, being desirous of investing his interest in a private undertaking of his own, withdrew from the association. The retirement of Mr. Blagrove did not, however, affect the stability of the “Quartett Concerts.” The veteran Loder, of Bath, recruited the party, undertaking to perform the viola part; Mr. Dando resumed the principal violin; Messrs. Gattie and Lucas retained their original appointments. Thus remodelled, the party removed its attractions to Crosby Hall, in the City, where, with Mr. Dando at its head, “The Quartett Concerts” continue to be carried on up to the present day.

It has been less the purpose, in this retrospect, to eulogize individuals, or to make comparisons between parties, than to set forth premises wherefrom we may reasonably conclude that the modus operandi adopted by that party to which we have more particularly pointed attention, must have been the best, if not the only, road to true excellence. The Quartett demands, not only individual efficiency in its execution, but collective agreement in the expression of its parts; the nicest discrimination in delineating its delicacies; and an ensemble animated, as it were, by one mind. To produce this unity of parts in one completeness, it is not sufficient that parties should merely play together;—they absolutely must meet for frequent practice together, and (according to the light that is in them) fixing upon the best interpretation of the author’s meaning, proceed to its exemplification with simultaneous feeling and decision.

We have it from undoubted authority—and record the fact for the benefit of all aspirants to public applause—that the Quartett-party, which has run the most brilliant and extended course, has devoted to the object which called it into existence the largest amount of industry and energy, in private preparation for its public exhibitions—these qualities being by them considered necessary additions to a well-digested experience, which, as the ground to begin upon, they previously possessed. Instead of rushing into public the moment they had formed their compact with each other, and trusting to the novelty of their introduction, or relying on a name already inscribed in capitals, indicative of honours achieved in another branch of the art, more dependent on manual dexterity than on mental cultivation—we find these (then young) professors patiently submitting themselves to the drudgery of preparation. There is the best authority for stating that they did not think six or eight rehearsals, previous to the production of a work in public, too much trouble, or time and application thrown away, or even unnecessarily bestowed. The success of their undertakings has been commensurate with the pains which they underwent to secure it. This accounts for their having achieved the vantage-ground in the general competition for distinction, while others, of more matured reputation as individual performers, failed to attain the preference which they were equally in quest of, by apparently the same path. How otherwise, it might be asked, could ... But lest some should consider the digression to be growing tedious, let us at once resume the object with which we started, and complete our biographical sketch—leaving the facts and hints that have been incidentally recorded, to the further (private) meditation of such as are more particularly interested in them.

Mr. Dando first appeared as a member of the Philharmonic orchestra, in 1831: since which time he has held an uninterrupted engagement in its front rank of violins. As an orchestral leader, himself, he has had a long and honourable career, as well in the provinces as in London and its suburban offshoots. In the City, he has almost exclusively occupied that post. At the great concerts given by the amateurs at the London Tavern; at those of the “Classical” and “Choral Harmonists ” Societies; also at others brought out on a less extensive scale, at the “Horn Tavern,” Doctors’ Commons, the “Albion,” and “London” Tavern, his qualifications have been fully admitted, and the highest credit awarded. As to his peculiar manner, or style, it may doubtless be averred that, as a pupil, he must have profited largely by the example of his master, Mori; although, finally, his talents have become conspicuous in a very distinct school. Fire and vigour, more than feeling, were the characteristics of style in the one, while the other has become remarkable for the elegance of his expression, and the neatness of his execution—a neatness which is by no means unattended by the amount of vigour occasionally requisite to express the passion of an inspired author. In his hands, the violin has oftentimes become almost vocal, and his performance on that most expressive of instruments has been very characteristically described by an accomplished public critic, as “soul-satisfying in the extreme.”

Henry C. Cooper, a fine solo-player, indoctrinated by Spagnoletti, holds a distinguished place among our Violinists. In the absence of materials for treating of him in extenso, his laurels, green and vigorous as they are, can at present only be recognized—not displayed—in these ministering pages.

Edward William Thomas, of Welsh parentage, was born in 1814. His commencement with the Violin was under Mr. W. Thomas, formerly Leader of Covent Garden Theatre. It was said that he was too old to “do any good” (being then twelve years of age), but the prediction—like many other such familiar croakings—came happily to nothing.

Leaving Mr. W. Thomas, his young name-sake was placed at the Royal Academy of Music, under Oury, Cramer, Mori, and Spagnoletti; the result of which multiplication of masters was, that he no sooner began to feel the good effects of the endeavours of one, than he lost them under the different system pursued by another. To remedy this, he became a resident pupil in the house of the kind-hearted Spagnoletti, to whom, as well as to his first master (Thomas), he always evinced a feeling of grateful attachment.

His first appearance, as a Solo-player, was at “Russian Field’s” Concert, at Her Majesty’s Theatre, in 1832, when he played Spohr’s Dramatic Concerto: this was also the year of his first engagement (by Mr. Monck Mason) at Her Majesty’s Theatre, where he remained until the establishment of the Royal Italian Opera, which he left in 1850, to become the Leader of the Liverpool Philharmonic.

Bream Thom, a native of Portsmouth, dating his days from 1817, made his first approaches to the Violin at eight years of age, having from infancy evinced a predilection for music, although no other member of his family was that way inclined. He studied hard, and, at seventeen, was appointed Leader of the Orchestra at the Portsmouth Theatre. He appeared, in 1838, at the Hanover Square Concert-Room, in London, and was favourably received. Shortly afterwards (by the advice of Mr. Oury), he went to Paris, and placed himself under Monsieur Robretch, a professor to whom belongs the credit of having had some share in the tuition of De Beriot, and of Artot. Returning to England, he settled eventually at Brighton, where he has for some time officiated as Leader at the Theatre, Amateur Concerts, &c.

Charles Frederick Hall, five years a member of Her Majesty’s Theatre, and the present Musical Director of the Royal Marionette Theatre, London, was born at Norwich, in 1820.

When a mere child, his melodious voice attracted the attention of the Norwich denizens; but his early predilection for the stage induced his family to accept an engagement for him from Elliston, in 1829, for the purpose of bringing him out in juvenile operas (at the Surrey Theatre, London), in which Master Burke, Miss Coveney, Miss Vincent, and Master Henry Russell, &c. shared with our youthful vocalist the favours of the public. Eighteen months after this period, his friends recalled him to his birth-place, and articled him to Mr. Noverre, a dancing-master in high repute, by whose advice he immediately commenced the study of the Violin—upon which instrument he made such rapid progress, that his friends were urged to cancel their agreement with Noverre, and destine the youth exclusively for the musical profession.

Although his attainments in singing, as well as on the piano and violin, seemed to point with sufficient clearness to his proper path, a passion for the stage developed itself in 1833, when he appeared on the boards of the Norwich Theatre, in the character of “Little Pickle,” in the farce of the Spoiled Child; by which personation he attracted such notice, that the manager of the Theatre engaged him to appear in that character at all the theatres belonging to the Norwich Circuit.

The family of our youthful musician, being anxious to wean him from a theatrical career, usually so trying to the principles of a young mind, placed him with a German Violinist (Herr Müller), of whose experience he availed himself to such extent as to become, in 1835, (when only 15 years of age) the Leader of the Norwich Theatre.

While on a tour with the Norwich Company, our young Violinist made acquaintance with Edmund Kean; and, but for the sudden demise of that rare but very rambling genius, would, in all probability, have been so fascinated by his society, as to have relinquished the steady pursuit of music. Soon after this event, however (in 1837), we find him residing at Norwich, as a Professor of the Violin, Piano, Guitar, and Singing, in which accomplishments he had the honour of instructing several families of distinction. He was also appointed Organist of one of the churches, and became the most eminent solo violinist of his own county, and its neighbourhood. The Rev. R. F. Elwin (for many years sole manager of the Norwich Festivals, and a great admirer of musical talent), was influential in placing the youthful Violinist at the head of the musical department in his native city.

Anxious to emulate the best musicians of the capital, Charles Hall, much against the wish of his family, repaired to London, in 1840, and became a student at the Royal Academy of Music, in which establishment he availed himself of the valuable instruction of the best masters belonging to the institution.

The late Mr. T. Cooke, when Musical Director of Drury Lane Theatre, induced Mr. Hall to accept an engagement there as Leader of the Ballets and Pantomimes, in which position he continued for the space of five years.

In 1844, this enterprising artist wrote and delivered some entertaining Musical Lectures at the Holborn Literary Institution, under the title of “Poesy and Minstrelsy.”

Mr. Balfe, the Composer and Musical Director of Her Majesty’s Theatre, being much pleased with Mr. Hall’s performance on the violin during the Jenny Lind Concerts, took great notice of him, and engaged him for five years at that large and fashionable establishment. In the first year of this engagement, Mr. Hall offered the “Swedish Nightingale” the sum of £1000 to sing at two Concerts in Norwich. That enchanting warbler accepted the offer—the Concerts were given, upon the most liberal scale—and our adventurous artist cleared nearly £800 by the speculation. The Lord Bishop of Norwich appropriated his palace to the use of the Queen of Song, and the whole city was a scene of excitement and rejoicing, during the lady’s sojourn. After recording Mr. Hall’s well-deserved profits on this occasion, it must be added, with regret, that a large musical speculation, in 1848, deprived him of the chief portion of what he had so acquired.

With an undaunted spirit, our persevering artist wrote another musical entertainment, entitled “The Romance of Village Life,” which he gave, in 1850, at various London Literary Institutions, and which was warmly applauded on each occasion. Mr. Hall is the author of an amusing burlesque description of the well-known opera of The Bohemian Girl. He is also the author and composer of several favourite ballads: and some of the finest musicians of the day, among whom are Mr. Balfe and Mr. Wallace, have wedded his verse to music. His last production, now in course of publication, is entitled “Sacred Lays on the Ten Commandments.”

To attempt a notice in detail of all the English Professors of the Violin who are yet pursuing their career, and seeking occasions to make, or to confirm, a reputation, is alike beyond my power, and beside my purpose. A few general remarks that here occur, shall be subjoined.

So little had instrumental chamber-music (until within the last sixteen years) been cultivated among us, that the Solo-player and the orchestral Leader were those to whom the public attention had been almost exclusively confined. To fill these two offices to the extent of all possible occasion, requires but a small number of individuals. Some musicians, possessing talents which, directed by an assiduous singleness of purpose, might qualify them to shine in either of these two capacities, were unwilling to encounter the toil of a competition, in which so very few of the candidates can meet with the recompense of election. Others, gifted with fine musical feeling and taste, and having sound notions of the art generally, but not fully possessed of the strength of nerve which gives confidence, or the manual suppleness essential for brilliant execution, were naturally still less willing to court the rarely accorded honours of prominent employ. Of these two classes, principally, were the men who filled the ranks of our best orchestras. In the Opera Band were found the names of Watts, Ella (well-known also for his taste and resources, as a caterer for the delight of our higher musical circles), Reeve, and Pigott,—in the Philharmonic, Wagstaff, Dando, Griesbach, and Moralt—good violinists, accomplished musicians, and forming an invaluable acquisition in an orchestra. It was one of the consequences to be anticipated from the Chamber Concerts at length introduced (and to which Fashion soon began to lend the stamp of her currency), that a clearer and higher appreciation of such men as these should be formed. That expectation has been partly realized; and, with its fuller accomplishment, we shall be sure to have good orchestras in goodly number.

—For its connection with the state and prospects of the Violin School in England, the institution of the “Royal Academy of Music” calls for a few words of notice in this place. The vocal art, through some unexplained defects in the system pursued there—certainly not from the want of fine voices in the country—has hitherto derived no very conspicuous advantage from the establishment in question; but the instruction communicated to instrumentalists must have been of a better kind, for results of some importance have been manifested. Of several of the students who have cultivated the powers of the violin with marked success, the most distinguishable, perhaps, in point of genius, is Mawkes, a performer of very great promise, who had the benefit of aid from the master-hand of Spohr. Suddenly, however, and much to the regret of those who were watching with interest the development of his fine capacity, he seceded from playing in public, and is now living in seclusion. To this strange sequestration of a valuable gift, he is said to have been induced by scruples of a religious nature. Why any branch whatsoever of the refined arts may not be followed, as a profession, in perfect compatibility with the higher and ulterior purposes of life, it is difficult to discover. A man does not, commonly, take his principles from his worldly calling: he brings them to it, and finds in it a field for their due employment and exercise. Objections, however, that refer us to the conscience, as their seat and source, must ever be respected, even when (as in this case) their essential force is not apparent.

Blagrove is another name that claims especial mention, among the trophies of the Academy. This professor, also, has fortunately enjoyed the highest means of accomplishment in his art, having superadded to his noviciate at the Academy, a later prosecution of his studies under the direction of Spohr, of the purity and refinement of whose style he exhibited delightful traces in the quartett-performances at the head of which he figured, when the merits of that delightful class of compositions were as yet but imperfectly known. Mr. Blagrove enjoys the unquestioned reputation of being one of the best of our living artists.—Seymour is another of the Academy pupils whose talent has become favourably known to the public. As leader of the “younger strengths” forming the Academy orchestra, he has shewn much steadiness and ability.

When it is remembered how large an amount of instrumental talent in France has owed its development to the fostering care and excellent system of the Conservatoire, a very happy augury may be drawn from the results in this kind that have as yet followed the institution of the English Royal Academy of Music. Supposing this establishment to be rightly and effectively conducted, one of its beneficial consequences as regards the Violin-Students (and that by no means the smallest) will be found in the harmonious unity of feeling and execution that will pervade our orchestras, supplied as they will then mainly be, from the same source. As a general fact, it has been remarked with regret by Spohr, the great German master, that the Violinists of an orchestra never originate from the same School;—the exceptions to this being in the Conservatories of Paris, Prague, and Naples, where the orchestras have been enabled to produce surprising effects, through this unity among the Violinists.

By way of tail-piece to this chapter, I am tempted to present a brief sketch of an individual in whose hands the Violin, as respects its lower range of capabilities, was long, and most conspicuously, illustrated. Having devoted our attention at some length to the instrument, under its English aspect, shall we refuse a passing glance at the Scotch Fiddle, in the person of one of its most restless and remarkable expositors?

Neil Gow—the head of a race of north-country instrumentalists, and one of the most zealous in the line where Music is the special handmaid of the Dance—was born in Strathband, Perthshire, in the year 1727, of humble parentage. His first efforts were made at the age of nine; but he had no instructor till, at thirteen, he was taken in hand by one John Cameron. Whilst yet a youth, he carried off the prize at a trial of skill among the best performers in that rather out-of-the-way district—on which occasion, one of the minstrels who was the umpire (a blind man) declared that he could distinguish the stroke of Neil’s bow among a hundred players! In process of time, while thus vigorously engaged in working his way, Neil obtained the patronage of the Athol family, and the Duchess of Gordon, whereby he became noticed and sought after in the fashionable world. He was eminent in one department of Scotch national music—the livelier airs belonging to the class of what are called the strathspey and the reel. The characteristic expression of the Highland reel depends materially on the power of the bow, and particularly on the upward (or returning) stroke; and herein Neil was truly great—“un homme marquant,” in a two-fold sense. His mode of bowing, indeed, by which he imparted the native Highland gout to certain Highland tunes (such as “Tulloch Gorum” for instance), was never fully attained by any other player. He was accustomed to throw in a sudden shout, as an addendum in the quick tunes, so as to electrify the dancers! In short, his fiddling—for its communication of saltatory fury to the heels of his countrymen—was like the bite of a tarantula.

This active promoter of activity was also a compiler of national airs and tunes, and dabbled occasionally in composition—his son Nathaniel arranging and preparing the whole for publication. Forcible humour, strong sense, knowledge of the world, propriety of general conduct, and simplicity in carriage, dress, and manners, were combined recommendations of Neil Gow, who has figured on the canvas of Raeburn and of Allan. His brother Donald, a “fidus Achates,” was of good service to him as his steady and constant Violoncello. Neil died in 1807, at Inver, near Dunkeld.

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