“It will ever be a gratifying reflection to me,” says Dr. Miller, “that I was the first person by whose means this extraordinary genius was drawn from a state of obscurity. About the year 1760, as I was dining with the officers of the Durham militia, at Pontefract, one of them informed me, that they had a young German in their band, as a performer on the hautboy, who had been only a few months in this country, and yet spoke English almost as well as a native; that exclusively of the hautboy, he was an excellent performer on the violin, and if I chose to repair to another room, he should entertain me with a solo. I did so, and Mr. Herschel executed a solo of Giordani’s in a manner that surprised me. Afterwards I took an opportunity to have a little private conversation with him, and requested to know if he had engaged himself to the Durham militia for any long period? he answered, ‘No, only from month to month.’ Leave them then, said I, and come and live with me; I am a single man, and think we shall be happy together; doubtless your merit will soon entitle you to a more eligible situation. He consented to my request, and came to Doncaster. It is true, at that time, my humble mansion consisted but of two rooms; however, poor as I was, my cottage contained a small library of well chosen books; and it must appear singular, that a young German, who had been so short a time in England, should understand even the peculiarities of our language so well, as to adopt Dean Swift for his favourite author. I took an early opportunity of introducing him at Mr. Copley’s concert; and he presently began
“Untwisting all the charms that tie
”The hidden soul of harmony.”
For never before had we heard the concertos of Corelli, Geminiani, and Avison, or the overtures of Handel, performed more chastely, or more according to the original intention of the composers, than by Mr. Herschel. I soon lost my companion; his fame was presently spread abroad, he had the offer of scholars, and was solicited to lead the public concerts at Wakefield and Halifax.
“About this time a new organ, for the parish church of Halifax, was built by Snetzler; which was opened with an oratorio, by the late well-known Joah Bates. Mr. Herschel, and six others, were candidates for the organist’s place. They drew lots how they were to perform in rotation. Herschel drew the third lot—the second performer was Mr. (afterwards Dr.) Wainwright, of Manchester, whose finger was so rapid, that old Snetzler, the organ builder, ran about the church exclaiming:—‘Te tevil, te tevil, he run over te keys like one cat, he will not give my pipes room for to shpeak!’ During Mr. Wainwright’s performance, I was standing in the middle aile with Herschel;—What chance have you, said I, to follow this man? He replied, ‘I do not know, I am sure fingers will not do.’ On which he ascended the loft, and produced from the organ such an uncommon fullness, such a volume of slow, solemn harmony, that I could by no means account for the effect. After this short extemporary effusion, he finished with the old hundredth psalm, which he played better than his opponent. ‘Aye, aye,’ cried old Snetzler, ‘tish is very goot, very goot inteet; I will luf tish man, for he gives my pipes room for to shpeak!’ Having afterwards asked Herschel by what means, in the beginning of his performance he produced such an uncommon effect? he replied, ‘I told you fingers would not do,’ and producing two pieces of lead from his pocket, ‘one of these,’ said he, ‘I placed on the lowest key of the organ, and the other upon the octave above; thus by accommodating the harmony, I produced the effect of four hands instead of two. However, as my leading the concert on the violin, is their principal object, they will give me the place in preference to a better performer on the organ; but I shall not stay long here, for I have the offer of a superior situation at Bath, which offer I shall accept.’“
PARODIES.
The present use of this word is strictly consonant with that of the ancients, who applied it to the giving a ridiculous turn to passages in Homer and the tragic Poets. There are many in Aristophanes. One of the happiest modern instances is the parody of the speech of Sarpedon to Glaucus in the Rape of the Lock. The genealogy of Agamemnon’s sceptre is also parodied in the same poem, canto 5, v. 87.
MOURNING FOR THE DEAD.
In the Mosaic law the Israelites were commanded not to cut themselves for the dead. The original Hebrew has, however a more extensive meaning than cutting, and includes all assaults on their own persons, arising from immoderate grief, such as beating the breasts, tearing the hair, &c. which were commonly practised by the heathen, who had no hope of a resurrection, particularly by the Egyptians, which might afford a particular reason for the Mosaic prohibition. We may also observe, that among the Romans, it was ordained by one of the laws of the twelve tables, “Let not women tear their faces, or make lamentations at funerals,” which proves that this was the custom with the Romans, previously to making this law. No doubt the law itself was immediately borrowed from the Athenian code, of which it is a literal translation.
The Priests of Baal, (1 Kings, ch. 18, v. 28.) assaulted themselves with knives and lances, which was indeed equivalent to cutting themselves. Nor was this frantic custom confined to the Priests of Baal; the Galli, and other devotees of the Syrian goddess, cut their arms, and scourged each others backs, according to Lucian. “Baal’s Priests”, says Dr. Leland, “were wont to cut and slash themselves with knives and lances. The same thing was practised in the worship of Isis, according to Herodotus, and of Bellona, as Lucan mentions. Many authors take notice of the solemnities of Cybele, the mother of the gods, whose priests in their sacred processions, made hideous noises and howlings, cutting themselves till the blood gushed out, as they went along.”