A Memoir of Thomas Bewick / Written by himself

by Thomas Bewick

“For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight,

His can’t be wrong whose life is in the right;

For forms of government, it is confest

That which is best administered is best.”

In England the people may boast that their forefathers had a king, in Alfred the Great, the wisest, the bravest, and the best the world ever knew; by whose excellent conduct was laid the foundation of the liberties of his country, and from the influence of which there can be no doubt that the English language will be spoken over the whole Globe. Were kings to endeavour to follow his example, and ever to keep in mind that they and their ministers ought to consider themselves as a royal society for the promotion of arts and sciences, and of everything that can enlighten the minds and ameliorate the condition of mankind, they would do right. Kings would then reign in the hearts of the great overwhelming mass of the people, and no confederacy or conspiracy of nobles or others could ever upset their rule. But, while they continue to suffer themselves to be surrounded by flatterers, sycophants, and selfish knaves, no good need be expected; for they are thus brought up, like petted children, and have not the same chance of becoming wise as other men. Thus situated, they are to be pitied. One would think that the respectable part of the old nobility, or other opulent men of great abilities, might be found with patriotism enough to perform the offices of the ministry gratis, scorning high salaries, and only looking to honourable distinction. This would of itself put an end to corruption. Justices of the peace take the very great trouble of acting their parts gratuitously; churchwardens and overseers do the same; and why do not the great and rich men of the land follow the praiseworthy example?

In reverting back to take another look at the American war, one may reckon to a certainty of its having been made the subject of debatings, and of furnishing matter for the thinking part of mankind, over the whole of the civilised world. George the Third and his advisers did not, perhaps, think of this, nor its consequences; neither did they ever contemplate the mighty events they were thus bringing about in rearing and establishing the wisest and greatest republic and nation the world ever saw. When its immense territory is filled with an enlightened population, and its government, like a rock, founded on the liberties and the rights of man, it is beyond human comprehension to foresee the strides the nation will make towards perfection. It is likely they will cast a compassionate eye on the rest of the world, grovelling under arbitrary power, banish it from the face of the earth, and kill despots with a frown. One would fain hope, however, that kings and their advisers will coolly reflect upon the improving intellect of mankind, and take measures to govern in a way more befitting the state of the people over whom they are called upon to rule.

During the long continuance of this war, and the debatings as before noticed, I became acquainted with a number of young men of a literary turn, who had a library of books. I did not join their society, but I sometimes dined with them at their annual, cheerful dinner. I was never fond of public dinners or dining parties; and I think I would not have partaken with them had I not been tempted to do so by way of bearing their songs, with which I felt much charmed, but particularly with the Scotch songs, with which one of the members (Walter Cannaway) used so highly to delight the company on these occasions. He, according to my notions, was the best singer I ever heard. I have always been more charmed with the human voice, when well attuned, than with any instrumental music whatever; and his voice was extremely good. Many others, perhaps, might have as good a voice, and as correct an ear for music as he, and would have been equally as charming had they not been spoiled by the fashion they had got into to please the surfeited tastes of coxcombical connoisseurs and a vitiated, aping public. I have ever been much disgusted to hear and see these spoiled performers, quavering and spinning out their unnatural falsetto voices until almost spent. It showed well how long-winded these kind of performers were, but I never could sit to hear any of them; as it appeared to me to be anything but music, or music run mad.

On my first going to business, I had an opportunity of sometimes hearing musical concerts. My master belonged to a musical society; and, when I had any message to take to him, I was commonly invited to remain. The two sons of Charles Avison, the musical composer, belonged to this society, and Mr. Beilby and family were on terms of intimacy with them. I also occasionally heard the band at the theatre, but I cannot say I felt much pleasure in listening to them, and I well remember on one occasion of setting them aside. The late Mr. Dibden, who often called upon me, had some performance to exhibit at our theatre, and had quarrelled with the theatrical band on account of their exorbitant demands; and, in this dilemma, he expressed himself much disappointed, and knew not what to do. I told him I thought, if he would leave the matter to me, I could set all right; and I instantly applied to old Wm. Lamshaw, the Duke of Northumberland’s piper, to play at the theatre. I being well-acquainted with the old man, he readily assented. I then told my friend Dibden what I had done, and satisfied him as to the preference the audience would give to the piper. In this I was not mistaken; for all went well off, and everyone expressed both pleasure and surprise at the change.

Some time before the American war broke out, there had been a lack of musical performers in our streets, and in this interval, I used to engage John Peacock, our inimitable performer, to play on the Northumberland or small pipes; and with his old tunes, his lilts, his pauses, and his variations, I was always excessively pleased. At one time I was afraid that these old times, and this ancient instrument, might, from neglect of encouragement, get out of use, and I did everything in my power to prevent this, and to revive it, by urging Peacock to teach pupils to become masters of this kind of music; and I flatter myself that my efforts were not lost. I was afraid that the Northumberland family were beginning to feel indifferent, or to overlook these their ancient minstrels, who had for ages past been much esteemed, and kept in attendance by their forefathers. It was, however, with great pleasure I found that they had appointed William Cant,[^[24]] a pupil of old William Lamshaw, to be piper to the Northumberland Regiment of Militia; and he kept up with great spirit and effect this department of their music while he remained in the regiment. Nor was the regiment behind in the other departments of music; for it was allowed by judges that their fifers and drummers were inferior to none in the kingdom. One man, in particular—John Bowman—it was asserted, was the best performer on the fife that was “known in the world.” Certain it is that every year for twenty-two years, he challenged the fifers of every regiment stationed in Newcastle, to a trial of skill on that instrument; but none of them could compete with him. He could draw out tones from it the most soft and graceful, as well as the most stunning and loud, such as the ear could not endure in a room, and which were only fit to be heard in the open air.