My friend then suspended two cats by the tails, which he contrived should alternately bob upon the noses of two sucking pigs, who were tied by the hind-legs to the floor: though I observed these performers were somewhat embarassed in their manner, yet I could not but acknowledge the effect was quite original and truly theatric.
Mr. Quaver then told me that he had formerly introduced some of these performers to sing at a concert, but without success: and he made great complaints of the unpoliteness of the audience, which he said could sit with patience three hours to listen to the unmeaning trills of heroes in hoop-petticoats, and Italian vagabonds in a strange language, while they would not bestow one half hour upon the voice of nature and their brethren. Tho’ I was quite ignorant of the facts he alluded too, yet, like Dr. Mus, I was so partial to talents, wherever I found them, that I could not help condoling with my kind host upon the occasion; and after having bemoaned the degeneracy of the times, and wished him success in his truly original undertaking, which I promised him I would take due notice of in my intended work, I set forward on my journey to Bristol.
Had I been rich, I should have agreed with a coachman, who was just then setting out, and offered to carry me and my bassoon, in the basket, for sixteen shillings. But as riches are not always the companions of genius, I rather chose to take my place in a coal-vessel, which was to arrive at that city in three days. Here, as the weather was extremely fine when I sat out, I travelled very agreeably, for the first day, and dined upon bread and cheese, and cold bacon, without making any observations worth communicating to the public, except that I saw a man standing upon the bank, and angling for dace, notwithstanding the earliness of the season.
The second day, as the wind suddenly changed from West to North-East, was foggy, rainy, and so exceedingly cold, that I was obliged, for want of Dr. Mus’s lousy blanket, to slip my legs and thighs into a coal-sack; we stopped about two o’clock at Averley, a little village on the banks of the Severn to dine; and here I cannot but inform the world, that Mr. Bangor, at the sign of the Goat in Boots, is an extremely civil and polite landlord, and has no contemptible taste in music. When I informed him of my design in making this expedition, he very obligingly led me into his hall, which was stuck round with various antique pieces of music, such as Chevy Chace, The Children in the Wood, Three Children sliding on the Ice, The history of St. George, &c. which he kindly permitted me to enrich my collection with. I begged hard that he would permit me to prick out the notes of an incomparable whistle as he performed it, which at length with great difficulty he complied with, upon condition however that I should not print it. But I was more than all surprized and charmed with his generosity, in slipping a piece of fried cow’s heel into my pocket, and insisting upon treating me with a dram, before I went into the cold.
As I walked down to the river side, I remarked a boy, who was humming the tune of Yanky Doodle; and as I knew this to be an extremely popular air in some parts of America, I conjectured that this part of England was originally peopled from that continent.
BRISTOL.
Late the next evening, we arrived at Bristol, a large and populous city, more famous for its commerce, manufactures and such trifles, than for its taste in music. They have but lately had a regular theatre established there to civilize and polish the uncouth manners of the dissenters, who would even have succeeded in the savage opposition they made to this salutary measure, if the bishops had not espoused the cause of the fine arts; I have little doubt, therefore, that they will soon find that “music is so combined with things sacred and important, as well as with our pleasures, that it seems necessary to our existence:” they will then quickly become friends to organs, and next to operas. As I approached the city, I was gratified with seeing the battalions of the principal militia, who made a most formidable appearance, and marched in exact time to the marrow-bones and cleavers, which had an admirable effect and were extremely animating. I put up at the Dog’s Head in the Porridge-Pot, and after powdering my wig with some flour, clipping my beard with a pair of scissars, and turning my shirt, I went to wait on Signor Manselli, to whom I had letters of recommendation. When I had knocked at the door, and enquired whether the Signor was within, I was informed that he was, but that I could not see him, as he was then busied in performing his vocalities. This answer, you may be sure, redoubled my curiosity, and I replied, “if a poor, yet I trust, not unknown musician, may be judged worthy of being an unobserved spectator of the Signor’s meditations, I promise not to interrupt his reveries, and perhaps the Signor himself will not be displeased at your introducing to him a Collioni!”
When he learned that I was a musician, he bowed respectfully, and desiring me to pull off my shoes, as he did himself, he led me to the Signor’s apartment. When we came to the door, the servant desired me to pull off my coat, waistcoat, and wig, and creep through a hole, which he shewed me at the bottom of the door, as he assured me the Signor did not suffer even crowned heads to approach him in these moments of enthusiasm, without taking those precautions; “and sir,” said he, “you need not think this an humiliating situation, as I have seen many persons of the first fashion, among whom were several pregnant ladies, submit to the same ceremony.”
I did not hesitate a moment to comply with the customary etiquette, but stripping myself to the shirt, I crept into the room with the same awful silence with which the antient priests approached the Tripod of their God. Having posted myself behind a large screen, I beheld the Signor extended on his belly, while two young and beautiful ladies were gently stroaking his back with the palms of their hands. He lay for some minutes pensive and silent, as if waiting for the inspirations of the divinity. At length, on a sudden, “his eyes were fixt, his underlip fell, and drops of effervescence distilled from his whole countenance.” Immediately explosions of the most musical intonation I had ever heard, issued from behind, and enraptured the whole company. After this, he successively coughed, sneezed, hiccuped, eructated, squeaked and whistled in the most harmonious manner that can be conceived. “Thank heaven,” cried the Signor, “my powers of harmony are yet undiminished: I shall still live to bless the world, and polish this brutal nation.” Saying this, he took up his fiddle, and played a most divine solo. I heard him for some time in silent ecstacy, ’till at length incapable of suppressing my emotions any longer, I precipitated myself into his arms, crying or rather blubbering out in imitation of the great Cassarelli, Bravo! bravissimo! Manselli, è Collioni che ti lo dice. The Signor seemed somewhat surprized at my abrupt introduction, but at length, recollecting himself, he received me with ineffable politeness. The ladies at my appearance, had shrieked, and left the room, which in the first hurry of our embraces we had not perceived. But presently the Signor, glancing his eye downwards, recollected himself, and said with some warmth and emphasis, “O, fye, Signor Collioni, I took it for granted you were one of US.” I blushed at the imputation, and said, “I hoped this defect would not lessen me in his esteem, as my country was not yet sufficiently civilized to have adopted the custom; and though some of our prime nobility had the spirit and taste to lead the way, yet in the gross conceptions of the English, there was a certain degree of ridicule annexed to it, which deterred several men otherwise of the most exquisite politeness from submitting to it.” The Signor was kind enough to admit my excuses, but lamented this as the greatest obstacle to the national advancement in the science of music. However, he averred that several English young noblemen of fortune had to his knowledge undergone the operation in Italy, “and though,” added he, “an ordinary proficient may be exempted from the practice, yet it is indispensibly necessary for one who would fathom all the mysteries of the art, and emulate the illustrious names of Senesino, Farinelli, Tenducci, &c.”
I confess I was much staggered at what he said, more especially as I began to entertain some doubts myself whether the characters of a man and a musician were at all compatible.