Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected, but period
spelling remains unchanged. Quotation marks around dialogue was absent
in some paragraphs and has been corrected.

Italics are represented thus _italic_ and underline
thus +underline+.




                            MUSICAL TRAVELS

                                THROUGH

                               ENGLAND.

                                  BY

                        JOEL COLLIER, ORGANIST.


          Nam, adhuc per domum, aut hortos cecinerat; quos ut
          parùm celebres, et tantæ voci angustos, spernebat.
          Non tamen ROMÆ incipere ausus.
                                                                 T A C.


                                LONDON:

              Printed for G. +KEARSLY+, in Fleet-street.
                            M. DCC. LXXIV.

                         (Price One Shilling.)




                                TO THE

 GOVERNORS of the HOSPITAL for the Maintenance and Education of exposed
 and deserted young Children.


  GENTLEMEN,

_While I was extracting the following sheets from my voluminous
Journal, and connecting them together as accurately as I was able,
in order to present the Public with a Specimen of my laborious
investigation of the present state of_ MUSIC _in this my native
country, I was somewhat at a loss to whom I could with most propriety
inscribe my work. Whether to_ DOCTOR BURNEY_, as the original inventor
of this species of composition, and the first musical traveller of our
nation, to whom I stand so much indebted for the plan, and conduct
of my book, and of whom I might truly say in his own words, “that
he has long been my_ magnus Apollo_:”—or whether I was in duty bound
to pay homage to the King of_ Prussia_, as the greatest_ Dilettante
_performer of the age; who, I suppose, at this present writing, like
another_ Nero_, is playing his new_ Solfeggi _to the dying groans of
the obstinate_ Dantziggers_;—or whether I ought not to call forth
from his obscurity that venerable Judge, who contented with less
ambitious pleasures, cultivates the fine arts by humbler and modester,
but not less curious experiments, and amuses the leisure hours of
a long vacation in_ caponizing blackbirds[1]_; or whether I should
not do well to express my gratitude, and that of the nation, to the
honourable Directors of our Opera, for having at last condescended to
permit an_ Englishwoman _to be called_ Signora_, and by virtue of that
title to share some of the princely incomes which have been hitherto
lavished on_ Italians_, and which, I dare say, those worthy Noblemen
and Gentlemen would as readily bestow upon_ EnglishMEN_, if they
would but consent to be properly_ qualified. _This dilemma, however,
was at an end, as soon as I learnt, that Dr._ Burney_, and Signor_
Giardini_, had, under your authority, just founded a school for music
(in imitation, I suppose, of the Italian_ Conservatorios_) in the_
FOUNDLING HOSPITAL_, where about an hundred of such poor children, as
have hitherto been placed out to trades and services, in which they
had no opportunity of making_ a noise _in the world, are, in future,
to be trained to harmony from their infancy, and constantly employed
in the study of music; ’till in process of time they take their
regular degrees as_ Doctors_, and_ Doctoresses _of music, and come
forth, sufficiently accomplished (as they must be under such masters,)
to form the national taste, by the true_ Italian _standard. When I
was informed of this event, I hailed the happy omen, the dawn of an_
Augustan æra_; and resolved to offer my tribute of congratulation and
applause, and to dedicate this work to a set of gentlemen, who have so
distinguished their zeal for the interest and advancement of music.
Perhaps it will at first appear a bold undertaking in the guardians of
deserted orphans, chiefly supported by parliamentary grants of public
money, to declare, that they cannot be maintained by the public for a
more useful purpose, than to be taught to sing and play_ Italian _airs.
For men of narrow and contrasted minds, who have neither_ ear_, nor_
voice_, nor_ hand_, will still imagine, that it might prove of more
national utility, to breed these adopted children of the public, to
Husbandry, Navigation, &c. the objects of their original destination;
than to convert one of the noblest of our public charities into a
nursery for the supply of musical performers at our Theatres, gardens,
and hops.—But this is a vulgar prejudice. The improvement of the fine
arts ought to be the first object of public attention in an age of
luxury,_ PEACE_, and plenty, like the present; when we have rivalled
the_ Italians _in music, it will be time enough to think of our navy,
and our agriculture. We have already (to our shame be it spoken,)
better sailors than fiddlers, and more farmers than_ contrapuntists_.
But as I take this circumstance to arise entirely from the different
degree of encouragement those occupations have hitherto received;
I do not despair of seeing the reverse take place, when gentlemen
of your rank deign to stand forward, and correct the errors of the
public, by the influence and sanction of your example. Should any
obstacles arise to impede the immediate execution of your plan, from
some obsolete but unrepealed parliamentary restrictions, doubtless
the same legislators who so readily expended the public money in the
purchase of Sir_ William Hamilton_’s_ collection _of antique vases,
and_ Etruscan _rarities, will not only repeal any former act which may
stand in your way; but rejoice in a fresh opportunity of displaying
their fine taste and love of the arts, by laying an additional tax
upon such of the necessaries of life as are not already overloaded, in
order to raise a competent sum for the purchase of the best_ Cremonas_,
and other instruments which can be procured on the continent, for the
service of your_ Academia_. I have only to add, gentlemen, that if upon
a perusal of the following sheets you shall find, as I am persuaded
you will, that my travels are also[2] in some measure, a matter of
national concern; I hope you will be kind enough to second my intended
application to parliament, that the charges of my future expeditions
may be defrayed at the public expence. This, gentlemen, may be done by
a very short clause; and as it will enable me to pursue my enquiries
with spirit, credit, and success, will lay a lasting obligation upon,_

                             _Gentlemen,_

                         _Your very obedient,_

                     _and devoted humble Servant,_

                             JOEL COLLIER.

[1] Vide the last Vol. of the _Philosophical Transactions_.

[2]—“He was the first who seemed to think my journey was, in some
measure, a matter of national concern.”
                                                   TOUR TO GERMANY, &c.




[Illustration: A collection of Instruments]


                        MUSICAL TRAVELS, _&c._


I was born in the Parish of _Gotham_, in the county of _Nottingham_:
my father was a sawyer, and my mother had, for many years before
her marriage, cried oysters and Newcastle-salmon about the streets
of London. Neither of them are said to have been remarkable for
their vocal or instrumental talents. My mother’s voice was, indeed,
exceedingly shrill and dissonant, as I have been credibly informed by
the neighbours; however, I was no sooner born than I gave proofs of
uncommon musical propensities. I entered the world, singing, instead of
crying; at least, my squall was truly melodious, and ravished the ears
of the midwife; tho’, I must confess, the envious old hag of a nurse
did pretend that my mother and Mrs. _Midnight_ mistook the origin of
the wild notes I uttered as soon as I saw the light; and, insisting
that they only denoted the wind-cholic, immediately drenched me with a
large dose of rhubarb: however, she has candidly confessed, that she
easily sang me to sleep whenever I was peevish, and that even by means
of such simple melody as _Jack Sprat_, or _hey diddle diddle, the cat
and the fiddle_. A harsh and menacing recitative would as effectually
deter me from a naughty trick, as a good whipping. The sound of a
drum, or any other martial music, had such an immediate effect upon my
nerves, that I was always obliged to be turned dry before the piece was
half over. The famous _March in Saul_ is too powerful for me even at
this day, tho’ I can stand any other, without being offensive. Indeed,
I am so well convinced of the connection between the sound and the
sense in all good music, that I will venture to prescribe _Handel’s
water-piece_, and _water parted from the sea_, as specifics for a
strangury. I know that there is great truth in what _Shakespear_ says
of the bag-pipe; and I have observed that a jockey always whistles to
his horse upon these occasions, which never fails to produce great
effects, tho’ the performer want brilliancy of execution ever so much.

One of the first circumstances I myself can recollect in my early
years, was the great pleasure I took in hearing a blind boy play tunes
on a bladder of air press’d between a bow-stick and its string. The
Jew’s-harp next engaged my attention; and afterwards the bag-pipe and
bassoon. Indeed I do remember having been told by my Grandmother, that
whilst I was yet in coats, I took vast delight in pinching the tails
of the Parson’s litter of pigs, and would listen to their various
notes and tones from the _f_ sharp of the whine of the least of the
family, quite down to the _b_ flat of the boar himself. This, with my
attention to my coral and bells, and rattle, singing thro’ a comb and
brown paper, together with the great expertness I afterwards shew’d in
making whistles of reeds, and the recent bark of sycamore twigs, made
the oldest people of the parish foretel, that I should one day or other
become a great and celebrated Musician.

My taste for the sister art of music, Poetry, was likewise, as I am
inform’d, observed very early in my childhood; as I always held my
mouth wide open, when the Psalm was sang at our Parish-Church; and
soon was able to repeat without book a great part of _Sternhold_ and
_Hopkins_’s excellent version of that great Dilettanti performer on the
harp, King _David_’s pieces.

Having been well inform’d that the infancy, and indeed the riper
years of the great Mus. D. or musical Doctor (whom I call, _par
excellence_, DR. MUS) passed in much the same manner, and with similar
expectations from all the old ladies of his acquaintance; and having
observed with what _eclat_, and indeed universal approbation of all
people of taste, his ingenious account of his ingenious travels has
been received, I conceived a design of following so illustrious an
example, and travelling through the dominions of _England_, _Scotland_
and _Ireland_, with the town of _Berwick_ upon _Tweed_, to give a true
state of the musical improvement and progression in these kingdoms;
and hope I may flatter myself, that the Dr. himself will applaud my
undertaking, and consider it as a proper supplement to his elaborate
work.

Before I set forwards on my travels, I chose to change my name from
_Collier_ to _Coglioni_ or _Collioni_, as more euphonious; and on the
first of April, having torn myself from the arms of my weeping wife,
and four small children, I put my bassoon into a green-bag, and slung
it across my shoulders; my large violoncello was laid on my knee as I
sat in the waggon, and my clothes, with a bottle of brandy and some
biscuits, were pack’d up in the viol-case. As I was neither patronized,
nor franked on my tour by any Dilettanti Lord, I must confess the low
state of my circumstances, and the poverty in which I had left my
family, cast a damp on my spirits; but this was always soon dissipated
by an air on the violoncello, and by recollecting the great advantages
my travels, to enquire into the state of music in this island, would be
to my dear native country, and the fame and glory I should acquire by
the publication of my work, perhaps only inferior to that of the great
Dr. _Mus_ himself.

    Inspir’d by taste, o’er lands and seas HE flew,
    Europe he saw, and Europe saw him too.
    Thro’ lands of singing, or of dancing slaves,
    Love-echoing woods, and lute-resounding waves.
    O while along the stream of time, that name
    Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame;
    Say, shall my little bark attendant sail,
    Pursue the triumph and partake the gale?—




                               LINCOLN.


Thus occasionally consoling myself, the waggon arrived at the famous
and ancient city of _Lincoln_. My first visit was to a young lady of
high musical acquirements. She received me with a most bewitching
air, which she sang to her guittar, for she had heard of my fame at
_Gotham_, and was not unapprized of my ambulatory design: her name was
originally _Fernihough_, but she had long dropped the _hough_ at the
end of it, as gothic and inharmonious. Thus she saluted me:

“Dear Collioni, Collioni, Collioni; Dear, dear, dear, Collioni; Happy,
happy, Gotham, Gotham; Gotham, Gotham, happy Gotham.”

I could only bow and smile in answer to this compliment, (which indeed,
tho’ very elegant, I did not conceive was above my merits,) as I had
not an extempore sonnet ready made to answer it.

Then taking my hand with a delightful air, she introduced me to Dr.
_Dilettanti_, a most illustrious timeist; he sat musing and beating
with his foot, and took hold of, and quitted my hand in the same
portion of time, which he measured by the pulsations of his foot.

“Excuse,” said he, “illustrious _Collioni_, the measured mode of my
gestures in saluting you; but I have long accustomed myself to measure
out the parts of time on a variety of sounding instruments, and have
at length introduced it into all the motions of my body. At my house,
sir, you will learn to cut your meat, and move your jaws at dinner in
common or triple time, according to the instruments that accompany our
meals.——By dealing the cards at quadrille, how easy it is to judge if
the party has an ear!——yonder gentleman who comes towards our window,
see how he swings his arms in exact time, true as the pendulum of a
clock. I can assure you, sir, he is great on the violoncello. My dear
wife says, the conjugal endearments are doubly improved, if a husband
is a good timeist. She approves of triple time; and on this account I
formerly had a servant who play’d in our bed-room every Sunday night,
’till we slept. And since I became one of the _castrati_, I have
acquired the habit of making water at intervals in the truest time like
a pig; and may say, that I believe for exactness of ear, that I am not
exceeded by any modern musician.”

On this, this great man took up a Jew’s harp that lay by him, and with
a twing, twang, twong, moving his finger across his lips, and making
faces in the most exact time, he fetched out such prurient harmony,
as ravished my very soul, and threw sweet Miss _Ferni_ into the most
agreeable convulsions.

During our dinner, two of the Doctor’s servants entertained us with
many excellent and solemn pieces of music. Indeed, I was so solicitous
to cut and eat my meat in true time, as I thought my character depended
on this circumstance, that I unfortunately cut my lips, so that the
blood much terrified me; and sweet Miss _Ferni_ was so earnestly
attending to the fiddlers, that on their suddenly changing the time
from _adagio_ to _sestina_, she swallowed the ivory spoon out of a
mustard pot; which, as it stuck across her throat, I am sure must have
given that excellent young lady exquisite pain, yet did she cough, and
even vomit repeatedly in most accurate time, and screamed from fear
most harmoniously through the whole gamut, from _a_ to _g_ inclusively,
long after the spoon was restored to its place.




                              SHEFFIELD.


Dr. _Dilettanti_ was so kind as to make me a present of a place in the
stage coach to _Sheffield_ in my road to _York_, that I might inquire
into the present state of the music of that city and cathedral. Amongst
the other passengers, was a gentleman of a grave aspect; who, from
his not attending to me at the inn, when I play’d a most inchanting
solo on my hautboy, appear’d at first to have no ears, but on further
conversation I found him a most agreeable companion. He cry’d up the
ingenuity of the _Sheffield_ manufacturers, and told me of a new
musical instrument, more complicate, he thought, and louder than an
organ. The next day he was so good as to accompany me to hear this new
organic instrument. The first thing I could observe was a number of
iron pipes, and a water wheel to work the large bellows, like that
organ of which there is a print in _Kempleri Musurgia_. When the wheel
was in motion, I observed many of the notes higher than in any organ
I had ever heard; and was told, that these ingenious people had found
the only way to produce these was, by boring gun-barrels: to these a
symphony was adduced by files which cut the teeth of large saws, and
the mellow tones of two great hammers, which at intervals struck on
large pieces of red-hot iron, made a more tremendous and affecting
concert, than all the mingled whittles of _Cecilia_’s organ.

Having paid a shilling to the performers of this stupendous piece
of harmony, at which my grave companion seem’d much delighted,
and listen’d to my remarks upon it with the greatest avidity and
approbation; “Signior _Collioni_,” says he, “your observations inchant
me; the most antient music, as you well explain, was made with hammers
beating upon anvils, as invented by _Tubal Cain_, and practised in
the shop of his successor, _Vulcan_, tho’ _Saturn_ is thought to have
been the first of the _castrati_.—But this invention was not compleat,
Signior _Collioni_, it was not compleat, till this excellent treble
made by boring guns, and cutting saws was added.—It is now become the
true antient, celebrated, long-lost, and long-deplored chromatic, which
that _Heathen_, _Plato_, who had doubtless ass’s ears, expelled from
his artificial commonwealth.”

“Doubtless you are right in your conjectures,” reply’d I, “Mr.
_Hummings_, (for that was my kind companion’s name) it was music like
this, which could disenchant the moon, and make trees and stones dance
_allemands_. Would you believe it, Mr. _Hummings_, I once cured a girl
bit with a tarantula myself with this simple bassoon?

“_Trut, turrut, phub, phub, bush!_—This was the air, Mr. _Hummings_,
you shall hear it——_trut, turrut, phub, phub, bush_:—the girl rising
from her melancholy attitude, danced till the sweat ran down to the
hem of her scarlet petticoat; and after I had presented her with a bit
of money, became so lively as to strip herself like King _David_, and
danced like a _Heinel_. I can assure you, Mr. _Hummings_, I drove away
the evil spirit, and cured her of her tarantulism that night.

“Not unlike this, is a fact recorded by the divine _Homer_. _Ulysses_
had a large rent made in his thigh by a wild boar,—a terrible animal,
Mr. _Hummings_:—well, and what happen’d?—why, he only sent for the
town-waits, and after the first bar or two were play’d, the blood
stopp’d; and as the fiddles proceeded, the wound contracted, and by the
time they had finished _Alley Croaker_, _Moggy Lauder_, and _A lovely
Lass to a Fryar came_, (which are all antient _Greek_ tunes, sir,) the
wound was quite healed, and the cicatrix as smooth as the back of my
hand.”

During this conversation, an unfortunate accident had happened near us.
One of the performers on the hammer and iron by a fall had broken his
leg. A surgeon was sent for with all dispatch, but Mr. _Hummings_ said
I had as well try the effect of the bassoon upon him; and pointing to
me, told the people that they need seek no farther, for I was superior
to any surgeon. Upon this, untying my green bag, the man cry’d out,
he begg’d no instruments might be used. “No, (says I,) none but a
musical instrument.” So I began with a gentle blast, and played and
sung alternately,—“_You’ll ne’er go the sooner to the Stygian Ferry.
Let not your noble spirits be cast down, but drink, drink, drink, and
be merry._”—“Give me some ale, (cries the wounded man) I like this,
Doctor.” Afterward I blew till I nearly had burst my cheeks, and
then sung, _If ’tis joy to wound a lover_; but the bone would not
knit:—indeed I could not make it knit at all—and I don’t believe, as
Mr. _Hummings_ said, that if Dr. _Mus_ himself, and all the musicians
of Britain, fiddlers, violoncellos, double violoncellos, trumpets, and
trumpet-marinos, together with every _Maestro di Capella_ in _Italy_
had been present, they could have made this bone knit—which, I suppose,
was owing to the scorbutic habit of body of the patient; indeed, Mr.
_Hummings_ attributed it entirely to this cause; for the blood stopped
before I had finished the first song.




                                 YORK.


Nothing worth remark occur’d in my journey from hence to _York_; but
at my approach to this celebrated city, my heart leapt for joy as
soon as I beheld the towers of the cathedral; here, says I, I shall
be much caressed and followed, I dare believe, as there are so many
of the _Dilettanti_ who reside within the precincts of this antient
seat of music and superstition. This letter, says I, is of inestimable
value, taking it from my pocket, and reading the direction, “For that
incomparable Musician and Antiquarian, Dr. _Hiccup_;” doubtless he will
pay great attention to his friends at _Lincoln_, who have honoured me
with it. The footman shewed me into an elegant parlour, where there was
a clock with chimes, so contrived that St. _Peter_, St. _Paul_, and
the _Virgin Mary_ were seen striking alternately on the bells, and
by a sweet trio announced every hour of the day. Dr. _Hiccup_ was, it
seems, at his devotions, which he always performed in imitation of that
great and devout musician, King _David_. He was a tall, boney figure,
with a swarthy complexion, and blear eyes. As I sat down he took no
notice of me, but continued dancing with a harp in his hand, without
his breeches, and with his night-gown and shirt tucked up above his
waist; and as he turned his brown posteriors this way and that, in the
gyrations of the dance, all the women and children that were looking in
through the window of his parlour, giggled, and made faces, and shewed
variety of indecent gesticulations and noises. None of these, however,
interrupted the devotions of this great man.

Never were such charming tunes elicited from mortal harp, _Cambrian_ or
_Eolic!_ the dance was Devotion itself in human form! After a little
refreshment, this illustrious Musician condescended to entertain me
with several interesting particulars of the manner of his life, which I
begg’d leave to copy in my pocket book in his presence.

He rose every morning, when his chime-clock struck eleven, (for, like
the famous _Chevalier Gluck_, he is too great a genius to rise early)
and generally gaped all the time his lady was putting on his breeches.
For breakfast he always eat rolls and butter, whether in summer or
winter; and after his breakfast paid a visit to _Cloacina_, but assured
me he never used old music books on this occasion on any account.
He retired to rest about ten, and seldom fail’d once in a month to
compliment his lady for undressing him.

He communicated many other particulars to me of less moment, and was so
obliging at length to beg I would treat him with an air or two on the
bassoon.

I thought this a good opportunity to give him a specimen of my poetic
talents, as well as of my musical ones, and performed the following
song, which I composed at _Gotham_ several years ago.

    “Some came in a waggon, and some in a cart;
    And many there were that did nothing but f—t:
    Oh rare _Nottingham_ town, _Nottingham_ town!
    _Nottingham_ town; Oh rare _Nottingham_ town!”

The sweetness of the notes on my bassoon, an instrument whose tone is
so like the sound it was to represent, ravished his ears, which he hung
quite down on each shoulder, during the whole time of my performance.

I slept this night at Dr. _Hiccup_’s house, and borrowed a shirt and
pair of stockings of him. At breakfast I took an opportunity to tell
him of the narrowness of my circumstances; but he was suddenly taken
with a rapturous fit of devotion, and pulling up his night-gown to
his waist, began to sing, and dance, and caper, and kick, to such a
degree, that no one in the room was safe: I ran towards the door to
save my shins, and the Doctor rising with both feet in the air like a
Harlequin, gave me such a horse-kick on my rump, singing at the same
time the _March in Saul_, that I descended into the street down five
steps, head foremost, and cracked my bassoon in twenty places.

Six hours I attended at the door, but was told by a servant out of a
window, that the Doctor was still performing his dance of devotion; and
for aught I know, that great man may dance till doom’s-day, as I never
after could get any other answer at his door.

On more mature reflexion, I thought this kind of treatment very hard
from a brother musician, and one to whom I was so well recommended; but
I consoled myself with considering, that though my bassoon was broken
in sundry places, yet I had retained the Doctor’s shirt and stockings;
and that it was very likely my great prototype, Dr. Mus himself, had
frequently met with the same treatment, tho’ his modesty had inclined
him to conceal it.




                                DURHAM.


From this place to _Durham_ I was necessitated to travel on foot; and
by playing the _Black Joke_, _Murdoch O’Blaney_, and other sentimental
tunes to the girls of the villages I pass’d through, procured food
and lodging, which my brother of the String had refused me. At
_Darlington_, I waited on the _Maestro di Capella_, or clerk of the
parish, who I may assert had the finest nasality, or nose-intonation,
that ever was given to _David_’s _psalms_; and the melody of his
_Amen_, was quite astonishing.

So well was my bassoon received at this church, that the ’Squire’s
lady invited me to Dinner. “Good Signior _Collioni_,” says she, “you
have charmed, you have enraptured me; pray, has the wind which escapes
out at the end of your instrument any smell?”——“smell!” says I, “no,
madam, not unless I eat onions.” At this all the ladies laughed most
extravagantly.

However, the ’Squire after dinner gave me a recommendatory letter to
the great Mr. _Eccho_ of _Durham_, principal performer belonging to
that opulent cathedral; and withal told me, that Mr. _Eccho_ had so
long apply’d himself to musical notes, that he had utterly forgot all
articulate language. That he preached, conversed, prayed, scolded,
swore, talk’d bawdy, and blasphemy, all on the fiddle, without uttering
a word, or even making a sign with his fingers.

At my introduction to this great man, I began a long complimental
speech, which I had been some time studying.——“Most respectable
sir, whose soul is a soul of harmony, and whose body is like a
base-viol.”——Here he snatch’d up his fiddle with an air of great
complacency, and drawing, the bow gently over the strings said, as
plain as if he had spoke it. “Oh, sir, your most obedient; you
compliment me indeed, sir, too much.” I then told him how long a
journey I had performed on foot, and that the dusty roads had made me
dry. He snatched up his violin, and before he had play’d above a bar
or two, in came a footman with a jug of delicate ale. Next I mentioned
modestly my having eat nothing all day.——“_Trut, trut, bish, bash,
bush_,” cries the fiddle—“Indeed, sir,” replies I, “I, don’t fast for
the sake of devotion”——“_ir, er, ar, querr, quorr, quurr_”—quoth the
fiddle, and in came a surloin of cold beef, and mustard and bread, in
the twinkling of a fiddle-stick.

This gentleman, quoth I, is greater than _Orpheus_ or _Eurydice_, or
the _Serpent_;—no, no, _Orpheus_ could do no such things as these—ale
and beef were a note or two above his fiddle!

Soon after came in Mr. _Eccho_’s wife, with a “what the deuce are you
about, bringing beggars into my house?”—Mr. _Eccho_ catched up the
fiddle, and such a jar did I never hear “_arg, erg, urg, gir, gor,
gur_”—I warrant you madam became as dumb as if she were inchanted.

Indeed, hearing this lady give me the opprobrious name of beggar,
I took care to shew the diamond ring on my little finger, which I
always wear when I perform in public, which might give her a better
opinion of me, tho’ indeed it is only a Bristol stone, and that I pay
a silver-smith two pence a week for the use of; and I would have hired
a laced waistcoat, but was asked a shilling a week, tho’ I am sure the
lace had been twice turn’d; yet, if I had hired it, I dare say Dr.
_Hiccup_ would scarcely have kicked me out of his house.




                               CARLISLE.


At _Carlisle_ I waited on Lord _Diddle-doodle_ with proper musical
credentials: he was sat against a glass practising some solfeggis on
the violin, and attending to the gracefulness of his own attitude.
“Most illustrious Peer,” says I, (making a bow to the very ground)
“your noble ancestors gain’d victory in the hardy fields of war, but
you by music civilize and harmonize mankind; with what rapture must
they lean from their starry mansions to see and hear your immortal
powers of harmony and grace!” I stopp’d, and on looking up, found
that his lordship had not attended to a word I had spoken, nor seemed
conscious of my being in the room;—but as great geniuses are often
absent, I repeated my compliment in a louder voice, and approaching,
was amazed to find that his lordship was quite deaf, deaf as a post;
and yet he executed the most difficult passages in music with the
greatest grace and manner, better, I dare say, than if he had heard his
own performance.

When his lordship had perceived me, he approached me with the utmost
politeness, and made signs for me to sit down, and accompany him upon
the bassoon, which I did ’till dinner-time. After dinner, I intreated
my lady _Diddle-doodle_ to prevail upon the noble lord to sing, which
he did; but I was rather disappointed at finding that his voice was
only pack-thread[3]. However, he sung in tune; had a shake, and was far
from vulgar. My lady afterwards made ample amends by her own singing.
Her voice was a skane of silk, without the least mixture of worsted.
She understood all the lights and shades of melody. Her back-ground;
her mezzotints; and her clare-obscure were charming, and there was such
a roundness and dignity in all the tones, that every thing she did
became interesting.

[3] “His voice is now but a thread.”
                                   TOUR TO ITALY.


It was in this part of _England_, I paid a visit to Mr. _Quaver_, with
recommendatory letters from lord _Diddle-doodle_; I found him to be a
gentleman of considerable and original musical genius; his taste was
pure, chaste, refined; and his execution, particularly upon the Jew’s
harp, was exquisite; he executed with great taste and powers, _Nancy
Dawson_, _Lillabullero_, and _Old Sir Simon the king_. After dinner
he explained to me his system for the improvement of sound, which
was at once sublime and original. “The Author of Nature,” said he,
“has with an equal and judicious hand distributed his gifts among his
creatures: to one he has given strength; to another, dexterity; to a
third, perseverance; in the same manner has he divided the agreeable
qualifications; and the courtier and the fine gentleman need not
blush to receive instruction from the spaniel and the monkey—Now as
the philosopher models his life upon an imitation of the virtues of
animals, the true connoisseur will do the same”—there he stopp’d, as
if afraid to explain himself; but I told him, that there was something
so original and masterly in his conceptions that I should never be
easy, until he communicated them. Upon which, after a short pause, he
seized me by the hand, and grasping it with affection, “since,” said
he, “I find in you the true spirit of your science, I will no longer
maintain any reserve; know then, that after a profound meditation upon
the sublimest mysteries of our profession, I have traced them up to
the creation”—“how!” said I, with amaze, “I thought that the greatest
Antiquarians had never brought them with any certainty higher than
the Deluge.” “I knew,” said he, “I should surprize you; but it is
certain that _Adam_, amongst his other qualifications, possessed that
of expressing every sound that ever has or can be uttered; hence he
could not only sing base and treble, counter-tenor, and soprano to
admiration; but also squeak like a pig, croak like a frog, bellow like
a bull, whinny like a colt, and bray like an ass.”

“It is true, that the greater part of these faculties was taken from
him at the Fall, and have been very sparingly bestowed upon his
descendants; from hence arises that degeneracy into which music has
fallen in the modern ages of the world: that sublime science, instead
of expressing the natural passions, by a judicious imitation of the
tones of beasts; instead of roaring out the lion’s rage; bellowing
the jealousy of the bull, or chanting the amorous passions of the
nightingale, is become a meer unmeaning jargon, without force or
energy, and its professors and admirers are dwindled into the most
contemptible part of the creation; quavering eunuchs, unfeeling
prostitutes, insignificant blockheads, wretches without head, or heart,
or sentiment, or enthusiasm.”—I was too sensible that there was but too
much truth in this gentleman’s observations, though I could not assent
to every thing he said against our modern _virtuosi_, among whom envy
itself must acknowledge there are some accomplished characters; and the
eighteenth century will always glory in having produced an ELECTOR OF
MUNICH, a TENDUCCI, and a MUS.

“But,” said my friend, “perceiving this to be the lamentable state of
things, I have with true and indefatigable industry applied myself to
the restoration of the first _Adamitical_ harmony; I have selected
the most admirable notes from every animal, and have already acquired
a tolerable proficiency in bellowing, braying and grunting: I indeed
found that the _squall_ of the peacock was two notes too high for my
voice; but in return, if I may say so without vanity, I can inspire
every hen and gosling in the yard with tender sentiments. I have,
besides this, collected every great natural genius that I have found
among the brute creation; I have a young he-ass who has an admirable
bass; a young hog, (a _castrato_) who sings counter-tenor; and a dear
little cat, whom, in honour of that illustrious name, so celebrated in
the Doctor’s tour, I call MINGOTTI, who has an excellent treble, and a
surprising _portamento_. But why waste I time in description? you shall
see my scholars, and my _schola_.”

Saying this, he led me to a large building, which resembled a barn,
where we were received by the _Maestro di Capella_, who was an old and
deaf huntsman. The first object I beheld was a beautiful she-ass in a
_Mecklinburgh_ night-cap, who brayed a solo. Her voice was one of the
clearest, sweetest, truest, most powerful and extensive I ever heard.
In compass, it is from _B♭_ on the fifth space in the bass, to _D_ in
_alt_, full steady and equal; her shake was good, and her _portamento_
admirably free from the nose, mouth, or throat. We were then
entertained by a duet between the _Mingotti_, and a large raven, in the
_chromatic_, which grew more spirited by my friend’s pulling a bone out
of his pocket, which he threw to the performers, and thereby produced
a _conflicta_. I then told my friend that I would willingly hear the
_castrato_, but he told me he was afraid the _Caffarelli_ could not
oblige me in that particular, as he had unfortunately taken cold by
rolling too long upon an unaired dunghill, and was then actually in a
course of sugar-candy. However, he threw a turnip to encourage him to
exert himself, and I could judge from what I then heard, that he is
likely to become a most masterly performer.

My friend then tied strings to the ears of six young greyhound puppies,
which he twitch’d with so much art and judgment by means of a pully,
that I think the effect was equal to any _viol di gamba_ I ever heard,
not excepting that of the Elector of _Munich_.

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.

I hinted to him, that I had formerly heard, that a certain great
Personage, _tàm Marti quàm Mercurio_, equally illustrious for his
martial and his musical talents, had adopted the practice; but as the
Doctor had not recorded it in his tour to _Potzdam_, I imagined the
report was without foundation.

“Ah!” said he, “depend upon it, tho’ the Doctor has indeed omitted
this circumstance in the admirable description he gives of that hero,
and Dilettante practising his _solfeggi_ at _Potzdam_, yet he would
never have been either the monarch, or the flutist he is without it. Do
you think, added he, that illustrious philosopher could amuse himself
so calmly in his closet with fugus and adagios, while ten thousand
_Polish_ widows, and orphans, were imprecating curses upon the head of
their unfeeling destroyer, unless he had totally disengaged himself
from every incumbrance of his sex and species?”

Here the entrance of the young ladies interrupted any further
conversation on the subject. The eldest, his niece, who was called
_Gluckinella Inglesina_, desired me to sing, which I did in the softest
and most unmanly tone I could exert, that I might not again offend. I
asked her what her real opinion of my voice was? she answered me with
the most perfect affability, that I acquitted myself tolerably well
_considering_; tho’ “she thought me too ambitious of displaying my
talent of working parts and subjects, and added that my _cantilena_ was
often rude.”

I took an opportunity when I was alone with this young lady, to
enquire if the _castrati_ were much in vogue at _Bristol_, and if that
operation could be so safely attempted on elderly gentlemen; this
young lady smiled at my simplicity, and assured me that the operation
was safe and easy, and not so painful as to acquire any degree of
resolution, and that the _castrati_ were the favourites of the ladies,
both of the married and unmarried. She advised me by all means to
undergo the operation as the Doctor had done in _Italy_, tho’ his
excess of modesty prevented him from boasting of it in his excellent
treatise. She added, that she could not with safety love me, unless I
would submit to this for her sake.

This declaration from a young lady for whom I now perceived I had
imbibed the most ardent affection, gave me great uneasiness; that
affection however was purely platonic and spiritual, for personal
charms she had no more to boast of, that ever I discovered, than
_Mingotti_ herself. Besides the disadvantage of a contortion in the
ogle, vulgarly called a squint of the eye, and a very long red nose,
she had a mouth, which tho’ it opened from ear to ear, discovered to
the eye nothing but the sad remains of a set of ebony teeth, which
more resembled the ruins of an old cathedral, than the polished ivory
which adorns the comic mouth of the celebrated Mrs. _Ab-ngt-n_. There
was yet another circumstance to disgust the sensualist, and deter him
from approaching this Syren with an improper familiarity; and that was
the great offensiveness of her breath, which was so violent, that any
person not “determined” like me “to hear, see,” and smell “nothing
but music,” might have thought it hardly atoned for by the sweetness
of her voice. Yet none of these circumstances damped the ardor of
my spiritual attachment, founded, as it was, upon a solid basis,
the love of song;—it was embodied harmony, the tuneful soul which I
adored. The reader who is unacquainted with the difference between a
gross sensual passion, and a sublime, harmonic sympathy, may perhaps
be surprized when I tell him, that while I was thus devoted to the
divine _Gluckinella_, I was at the same time personally captivated
by the corporeal attractions of a little black-ey’d Gypsy, the wife
of a barber in the town, who often shaved me for a tune; yet did not
these grosser feelings the least impair or abate my musical platonic
love. I might perhaps be excused, were I to conceal the progress and
issue of these different amours; but they are so intimately blended
with the scientific part of my work, and were attended with such
important consequences to myself in my professional capacity, that I
doubt not the narration will prove of great utility to my brethren.
For it was no common temptation that deluded me; tho’ Mrs. _Sharpset_
was abundantly handsome, I could have resisted “the blandishments of
beauty,” if a desire of making dangerous experiments upon the power
and effects of music upon female passion had not seized my brain.
For I had taken notice, that the imagination of this young woman was
exceedingly lively and far out-stripped her husband’s, who was a plain
dull man with little fire or enthusiasm in his composition. I plainly
perceived this in all her gestures and movements, but when I sung some
tender sentimental air, her involuntary sighs, blushes, and languid
attitude, betrayed too plainly the irritability of her nervs, and that
fine susceptibility of soft emotions with which nature has endowed
the sex. No wonder that in a rude, uncultivated state of nature as I
then was, I caught the subtle fire from her contagious eyes. Ah! how
often did I sing the _sweet passion of Love_ without once thinking of
my dear _Gluckinella_; how often did she encore my _O how pleasing ’tis
to please_, without the slightest recollection of her absent barber!
Madly determined to pursue the fatal experiment, and observe the full
effects of my art; I next sung “_Haste, let us rove, to the Island
of Love”_, at which Mrs. _Sharpset_ was greatly agitated and danced
about the room. Then I played a rapturous voluntary “produced in the
happy moments of effervescence when my reason was less powerful than
my feeling;” and at length I proceeded to such excess of temerity,
as to tune up _Geho Dobbin_, _Murdoch O’Blaney_, and several other
inflammatory compositions; and finding my mistress “attentive, and in
a disposition to be pleased, I became animated to that true pitch of
enthusiasm, which from the ardor of the fire within, is communicated
to others and sets all around in a blaze, so that the contention
between the performer and the hearer was only who should please or
who should applaud the most, till at length, not contented with
shewing her approbation by coughing, hemming, and blowing the nose”
she “expressed rapture in a manner peculiar to herself, and seemed to
agonize with pleasure too great for the aching sense!” for at length,
overpowered by my quirking and quavering, and transported beyond all
the bounds of prudence, Mrs. _Sharpset_ on a sudden leaped into my
arms, hung round my neck, and devoured me with eager kisses, such as I
never tasted before or since. What man, what unemasculated god could
have withstood such potent snares? Ah! my serene _Gluckinella_ had’st
thou been there, these tumults had all subsided, the devil had not
got intire possession of my mind, voice and instrument, nor had I
needed the painful operation of the barber’s avenging steel to bring
my wandering spirits back to reason:—for soon, and in the midst of our
illicit joys, the door of the chamber was forced open, and in rushed
Mr. _Sharpset_.—Discordant oaths and curses, and the look and voice of
a Fury making an incantation to awake the dead, bespoke the injured
husband, and scared us from the bed. He retired a moment to fetch the
instrument of his revenge. Mrs. _Sharpset_ escaped, but in an instant
I saw him return whetting his keenest razor; and concluding, that he
meant to cut my throat upon the spot, I fell down at his feet and in an
agony of fear and penitence, roared out such a MISERERE, as was never
heard at the Pope’s chapel in _Passion-week_. Alas! how did I wish for
the genius of a _Gluck_, “to paint _my_ difficult situation occasioned
by complicated misery, and the tempestuous fury of unbridled passions!”
But _Allegri_ himself, had he chanted his own MISERERE, could not have
moved the shaver’s unrelenting soul, or soothed his injured honour up
in arms, and demanding its victim! I tried a softer strain, and sang
in melting mood, “_Let not rage thy Bosom firing, pity’s softer claim
remove_,” &c. but it was all one: still strapped he his inexorable
razor, humming out a song of _Bravura_, the subject of which was the
castration of the devil by a baker; (which, by the bye, is a very
curious story, whose authenticity I must enquire into farther at my
leisure.) I immediately augured my approaching destiny from the burden
of this song; and the _Cornuto_ presently gave me to understand that
my conjecture was well founded. Having been till now in a cold-sweat,
and corporal fear of my life, I congratulated myself on this exchange
of punishment, as a sort of reprieve, and considering that I had some
time since resolved, like another _Grassetto_, to undergo the operation
whenever I found myself bold enough for such a voluntary sacrifice; I
plucked up courage, and with great composure told the barber, that a
guilty conscience was a greater torment to me than any he could devise;
but that to expiate the crime I had committed, and appease the anger
of heaven, and the honest man whom I had so deeply offended, I would
patiently submit to suffer the righteous sentence which his vengeance
meditated on the peccant part. The enraged tonsor took me at my word.

       *       *       *       *       *

The first thing that came into my thoughts after I awoke from the
fainting fit, into which the paroxism of pain had thrown me, was to
try my voice in its improved state. I accordingly sung _A Dawn of Hope
my Soul revives_, and found my powers wonderfully improved, and my
execution delicate, interesting, and full of effects. “Ho, ho,” cries
the barber, “I am glad to find you are so merry,” and resumed his old
tune of the baker and the devil. I told him I thought it unkind in
him to insult me, and intreated him to convey me home, which he very
readily consented to do, and soon afterwards began to apologize for
the effects of his rage, hoping I would consider the nature of the
provocation, and not attempt to take the law of him. I answered, that
upon condition he would freely pardon his wife, whose fault was venial,
as her virtue had fallen a sacrifice to the power of harmony, I would
decline any hostile proceedings against him on my own account, with
which condition he appeared satisfied, and we parted.—I was brought
home on a mule, on which I rode sideways; and as soon as I alighted at
Signor _Manselli_’s I sent for him into my chamber, and accosted him as
he approached with the following air, in singing which I exerted all my
newly-acquired powers.

    _Bear, O bear me on a sudden,
      Some kind stroke of smiling chance!
    From this land of beef and pudding,
      To dear_ Italy _or_ France!

    _I am sick to the soul,
    Politics and sea coal,
    So give one the vapours,
    Their cursed news-papers,
      Their mobbing,
      Stock-jobbing
      Are horrors to me;
      I wish the whole island were sunk in the sea._

During my performance, the Signor appeared perfectly astonished, and
at length seizing my hand with rapture, “welcome,” he cried, “O son
of harmony! it cannot be longer disguised, you are a brother—you are
one of us”—then expatiating on the dignity and importance of the order
of _castrati_, he desired me, if not too much exhausted, to sing
again his favourite air, which when I had done he cried out with
transport;—“_nec vox hominem sonat!_ I can hardly believe it is the
same pipe! such a volume of voice, such an open and perfect shake!
such light and shade! never was voice less _cloudy_! such clearness,
brilliancy, neatness, expression, embellishment, intonation, firmness,
modulation, smoothness and elegance! and then your _portamento_ is as
round and tight as a portmanteau, and you take _appogiatura_, as easily
as a body would take a pinch of snuff!”—

I was greatly flattered by these encomiums, but begged he would forbear
and suffer me to retire to my chamber, for the sake of necessary
refreshment and rest. He immediately complied, and sent up to me Signor
_Sougelder_, an eminent surgeon in the neighbourhood, and an agreeable
performer on the _English_ horn; who having applied an excellent
dressing to my wound left me to sleep, and “thus ended this busy and
important day, in which so much was said, and done; that it seemed
to contain the events of a much longer period; and I could hardly
persuade myself, upon recollecting the several incidents, that they
had all happened in about the space of twelve hours.” By the kind and
skilful offices of Signor _Sougelder_, I was soon restored to my health
and spirits; and my adorable Signora _Gluckinelli_ in a few days paid
me a visit of congratulation, which she repeated every day during my
recovery. It was in some of these delightful interviews I discovered
how deep a theorist she was, and how learned in the science of sound.
Among other discoveries and observations which she communicated to me,
and which I treasure up, and mean to preserve for the benefit of future
ages, she assured me that it was “practicable with time and patience to
give a shake where nature has denied it; that she thought, the shake
ruined ninety-nine times out of a hundred by too much impatience and
precipitation, both in the master and scholar, and that many who can
execute passages which require the same motion of the _larynx_ as the
shake, have notwithstanding never acquired one”—“There is no accounting
for this,” added that illustrious young lady, with a sigh, “but from
the neglect of the master to study nature, and avail himself of these
passages, which by continuity would become real shakes.”

During my confinement to my chamber, I have had leisure to extract the
foregoing observations, anecdotes, and adventures from my journal, and
which I present to the world as the first hints of my undertaking. If
they tend in any shape to promote the study and practice of music in
this country, and by that means lessen our national reproach of being
_The Savages of Europe_, immersed in politics, philosophy, metaphysics,
mathematics, and other sour and abstruse speculations, I shall have
gained my end, and shall congratulate myself on having in some humble
degree assisted the generous efforts of the great musical Doctor, and
the governors of the _Foundling Hospital_, to polish and _Italianize_
the genius, taste, and manners of the _English_ nation.

I shall trespass on the reader’s patience but one moment longer, to
inform him that as soon as I had perfectly recovered my health, Signor
_Manselli_ instituted a grand _Fête Cbampêtre_ to celebrate what he was
pleased to call my victory over the flesh and the devil; and to crown
the whole, the idol of my soul, the fair _Gluckinella_, was that day
pleased to condescend publicly to avow her platonic harmonic passion
for me; and to promise me in the most endearing manner, that if ever
she entered into the holy slate of matrimony, I should be her CECISBEO.


                               THE END.




                     _Speedily will be published_,

                   An ENQUIRY into the PRESENT STATE

                                OF THE

                         MUSIC OF THE SPHERES.

                      To which will be prefixed,

             The OVERTURE to the last ECLIPSE of the MOON;

             And, a Dissertation on the Structure and Use

                                OF THE

             CELESTIAL BOW, commonly called the RAIN-BOW.


                      By JOEL COLLIER, Organist.


  _Avia Pieridum perago loca nullius antè Trita solo._
                                                  LUCR.


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