Part 10
The gamba of this make which is before us has unfortunately been fitted by some vandal with a machine head, but otherwise is as perfect as when it left Tielke’s hands over three hundred years ago. No doubt, the original pegs were of ivory tipped with a dainty jewel to correspond with those which were let into the neck. Before it became the property of the South Kensington Museum it was owned by Mr Simon Andrew Forster, the joint author of the well-known “History of the Violin.” Two excellent pictures of this instrument are included in this volume, and also the information that Mr Forster purchased it from Mr John Cause, the artist, who had lent it to the directors of the “Ancient Concerts,” held in the Hanover Square Rooms in the spring of 1845. These concerts were organised to take place in this obsolete concert hall by a small body of aristocratic music lovers headed by the Prince Consort, and it was under his auspices that the second concert of the season was not only devoted to the sixteenth-century music, but was performed on the ancient instruments themselves. M. Fetis, at that time director of the Brussels Conservatoire, supplied a number of old instruments from the Musée of the Conservatoire, and the orchestra on the evening of the 16th April 1845, presented,--what _The Illustrated London News_ terms,--“a grotesque sight.” There was a “Violino Francesi,” says the above authority, a “viola da gamba” (now before us), a “viola d’Amore,” and a “viola da Braccio,” a “Theorbo,” “violino,” “guitar,” “harp,” and an “organ,” played respectively by Messrs Loder, Hatton, J. F. Loder, Ventura, Dragonetti, Don Cubra, T. Wright, and Lucas. The complete programme of the concert may be seen in full in _The Illustrated London News_ for 19th April 1845, suffice it here to say that the two _pièces de résistance_ comprised a concerto, played on Antique Instruments, and composed by Emile del Cavalieri (1600), and an anonymous fifteenth-century Romanesca, performed in a like manner. Both Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort, appeared to be highly delighted with the concert, and at the end, invited Mr Hatton to play a solo on his viola da gamba in the tea-room.
Since this galaxy of musical instruments of the past astonished Londoners, we have had many other interesting attempts at recalling the ancient viols to the concert platform, but notwithstanding the success of these appearances, there is no danger of the gamba ever getting the upper hand of the violoncello again. The latter has steadily taken its place as the leader since the first half of the eighteenth century, when the great Italian _luthiers_ busied themselves with its graceful form, and the performances of Franciscello first enchanted Scarlatti in Rome, and then astonished all Italy. From that time until the present, makers and players have gone hand in hand. Franciscello’s marvellous achievements inspired others to emulate his powers of attraction, among others Antonio Vaudini, who was Tartini’s great friend and travelled about with him for some time, for the sole purpose of accompanying him. This eccentric association of the high and low instruments belonging to the string quartet led to violoncellists adopting the system of fingering employed for the smaller instrument. The old way of holding the bow in the manner of the viol players--_i.e._ as double-bass players frequently hold it now--was also discarded for the violinist’s method. Then Antonionetti of Milan and Lanzetti, violoncellist to the King of Sardinia, published some sonatas for the violoncello, which, according to Monsieur Vidal in his “Instruments a Archét,” reveal that the capacities of the instrument to the extent of an octave and a half were known to them. Curiously enough, at this point the zeal shown by the Italians in developing the violoncello somewhat cooled, and the important invention of employing the thumb was left for the Frenchman--Berteau. A few years before this violoncellist’s death in 1756, Michael Corrette published his “Methode, theorique et pratique, pour apprendre en peu de temps le Violoncello ...” Paris, 1741, a work which was the first of its kind. He still adhered to the system of fingering the diatonic scale by stopping whole tones with successive fingers, and his remarks relating to the several systems prevailing among violoncellists, together with his instructions, for _three ways of holding the bow_, are indicative of the unsettled state of technique at that time. This condition of uncertainty among players continued until towards the end of the century when Jean Louis Duport published his carefully written “Essai sur le doigté du violoncelle, et sur le conduite de l’archét.” This was the first method in which the correct mode of fingering--_i.e._ a finger for each successive semitone--appeared. Duport’s system was too sound to be anything else than universally adopted, and each successive writer of violoncello schools--Romberg, Dotzauer, Grutzmacher, etc.--have retained the fundamental principles laid down by Duport. To-day there is little executed by violinists that virtuosos of the violoncello cannot accomplish, if they are inclined,--but,--talking about the obvious is always tedious especially at the end of a long day, and we feel that it is nearly time to bid you adieu. So much has already been written by eminent writers on the subject of makers and players subsequent to Stradivarius--of the German, French, and English schools--that it would be superfluous to give a descriptive list of them here. The question as to whether Jacobus Stainer and Joseph Guarnerius del Jesu made violoncellos will always be one of the many subjects to argue about. Yet, apparently they have left evidence that they did make violoncellos. This and other doubtful points may be found adequately discussed in such works as Laurent Grillet’s “Les Ancètres de Violon,” George Hart’s “The Violin,” Anton Vidal’s “Les Instruments a Archét,” Von Wasielewski’s “Die Violoncelle,” Luigi Farconi’s “Il Violoncello, il violoncellesta e Violoncellesti,” etc., and to those who seek to dig deeper for themselves, there is the British Museum, and the many Museums, and storehouses, of information, to be found in every country.
Our chief aim during these chats has been to seek out the uncommon rather than to preach, therefore we will end as we have begun, and before parting call your attention to the handsome violoncello belonging to that gifted artist Herr Paul Ludwig, made by a maker of the name of “Chioddi” of whom we can find no record, and as we bid you a regretful adieu, present you with the history of two eminent women gamba players, and the first violoncello prodigy known in this country.
The fog has cleared and we may now dash through endless slush to our respective homes. The pleasant hours are over, let us hope for future meetings, but if this may not come to pass, the memory of to-day will be ever cherished by us.
“FEMALE violinists are rare, the violin being we do not know why deemed an unfeminine instrument....
“Female violoncellists are rarer still, and we have never met with one. A young German lady, Mademoiselle von Katow, is delighting Paris by her performances.”--_The Spectator_, 14th April 1860
[Illustration: VIOLA DI BORDONE. A VARIETY OF THE VIOLA DA GAMBA PECULIAR TO GERMANY AND FAVOURED BY AMATEURS IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. THIS INSTRUMENT IS IN THE SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM.]
CHAT THE FIFTH
Two Eighteenth-century Women Players of the Viola da Gamba
The Empress of Germany well defined the attainments of Pericles’ ideal woman--who was to be prized if no one spoke of her either in praise or blame--when she announced that a woman’s life should be made up of clothes, children, cooking and church. A century or so ago, such a statement would have been quite unnecessary, for our great-grandmothers welcomed each of these obligations as the sweetest duties of life. But, somehow, for some unaccountable reason, much of woman’s tender grace seems to have faded with the Victorian era, and to-day “_nous avons changé tout cela_.” Children, clothes, cooking, are the very things--except the clothes--that the modern woman, with her club and other interests, deals with most lightly. She would far rather rush into the battle of life and fight like her Amazon ancestry. She would far rather assume some definite career like her brethren of the sterner sex. Perhaps she does not cut quite such a good figure as she did fifty years ago, but her unceasing efforts to attain prominence have revealed her to be dowered, now and again, with an intellect capable of undertaking all the duties dear to her departed sisters, and rendering service in other provinces besides.
The emancipation of woman is a steady growth, and to-day there are few professions in which she does not compete side by side with man. In the rough and tumble of the battle, she must lose much of her ephemeral qualities, but, fortunately, there are careers open to her in the sphere of Art where her feminine evanescence is the principal charm of her work. In music more especially, her emotional value and quick instinct are indispensable, and here she retains her personality with ease. Whatever may be the general opinion of woman’s work in the realm of musical composition, her success as an executant is undeniable. She cannot perhaps build Masses like Bach, or Oratorios like Handel, but she can interpret the works of the great masters with much spontaneous insight, and one cannot forget that she has written some of our most popular songs. “Annie Laurie” was the work of Lady Jane Scott; Lady Arthur Hill wrote “In the Gloaming,” and Lady Scott Gattie composed the widely-known ballad “Douglas, Tender and True.” “The Campbells are comin’,” “The Land o’ the Leal,” and “The Laird o’ Cockpen” were all the work of Lady Nairne, while the languorous melody of “Juanita” emanated from Mrs Elizabeth Morton’s pen. Undoubtedly woman’s most appropriate place in music is as a singer, for, look back as far as you will, you will find her occupied in singing. The Egyptian women danced and sang to the accompaniment of clapping hands. The Hebrew women pointed the story of their songs with dramatic actions; they sang gaily at festivals, and chanted dirges at funerals, and, although the men--mark you--_might_ join in if they felt inclined to do so, yet the women were the acknowledged leaders. Then, again, one of the cherished duties of those graceful women--the Greek Muses--was to sing songs at the banquets of the immortals, and the principal occupation of the Sirens, who sat upon rocks, was to sing ditties to the passing mariners. The record of woman’s singing is certainly ahead of man’s, and it is regrettable that in these days she does not continue to be ahead of him. It should be woman’s prerogative to sing, while men could monopolise the more technical branches of music, such as composing, and playing the flute and string and brass monsters. Go to one of the fashionable concerts devoted to that poor pale thing, “The Modern Ballad,” and see if the incongruity presented by six feet of muscular manhood warbling about stars kissing, and moons flirting, does not jar your sense of the fitness of things. Listen to the same sentiments voiced by a woman, however, and you will find the incongruity vanishes, and mere trash becomes sentiment.[32]
Unfortunately every woman is not blessed with a melodious singing voice, yet the instinct to sing being in her, she has turned to the best imitation of the human voice she can find--_i.e._ the violin and the violoncello. To-day these instruments, and even the viola, count innumerable votaries, both professional and amateur, among the fair sex, but who was the first brave lady to “saw the catgut with the horse’s tail” history does not recount. Where history fails however myth steps in and supplies us with the information that the invention of producing musical sounds from a stretched string originated in the twang of Diana’s hunting bow. Then the beautiful poetess Sappho--whose name has been handed down to us much besmirched for the reason that she was in advance of her time--is assigned the honour of inventing the fiddle-bow mounted with horse hair. St Cecilia--whose name now graces numberless Musical Societies--is said to have united instrumental with vocal music in divine worship, about the year 230. Little is known accurately of this saint, but legendary lore pronounces her to have been a noble Roman lady who embraced Christianity, and was forced by her parents into a union with a pagan named Valerian. She eventually converted both her husband and his brother to her faith, and they all three suffered martyrdom for their convictions. The passing phase in her history which relates that she frequently united instrumental music with that of her voice in praising the Lord, has inspired artists to paint and mould her in an attitude of praise with the organ and other musical instruments by her side. Whether she played the viola da gamba, or indeed any instrument, is a fact now lost in oblivion; in any case Domenichino has exquisitely represented her in the act of drawing the bow across a handsome bass-viol in his immortal picture now in the Louvre Collection in Paris. After St Cecilia a prominent English lady, who was the daughter of “Old King Cole” of fiddling fame, was a skilled musician according to Geoffrey of Monmouth. She is apparently a solitary example of feminine musical talent in England at that date.
The position occupied by woman in the music of mediæval times had greatly deteriorated from that occupied by St Cecilia, yet she was still thought worthy of portrayal, and we find a picture of her playing a viol with four strings on the painted roof of Peterborough Cathedral, which dates from about the year 1194. Two years later the names of several lady minstrels or “jongleuresses” figure in the code of laws which the Corporation of Minstrels presented in 1321 to the “Prefect” of Paris for signature. Heading the women is “Isabel la Roufelle,” and after her “Marcel la Chastaine, Liegart, fame Bieuveignant, Marguerite, la fame au Morne,” etc., and lastly “Adeline, fame de l’Angloise” and “Isabian la Lorraine.” The significant “fame” (wife) which occurs several times in the above list helps us to a peep at the life of the faithful spouse of the jongleur. Decidedly her attainments as a female jongleur, roaming the country with her husband, were absolutely opposed to the dictum of Pericles. The lives of these women were hard, and they were but poorly paid in comparison to their male brethren. It is on record that the Queen’s male “fiddler” in 1497 was paid “in rewarde” £1, 6s. 8d. while the two shillings paid by Henry VIII. to “a woman that singeth with a fiddle” is a pathetic revelation of the proportionately low value set upon woman’s artistic efforts at that time.
Among early amateurs of the bass-viol we find Anne of Cleves, who frequently amused her self by playing on a viol with six strings after her retirement from the turgid trials of her matrimonial life. The picture of a lady similarly occupied, which occurs in a fifteenth-century manuscript entitled “Les Echecs Amoreux,” shows us that the French ladies were also votaries of the viol at that time. In truth, the bass-viol was then a very fashionable instrument both in Europe and England. Shakespeare, who echoed the doings of the day with unerring exactitude, frequently employs the viol in a synonymous sense as, for instance, in _Pericles_, where the character that gives the title addresses his daughter, Antiochus:
“You’re a fair viol and your sense the strings Who, finger’d to make man his lawful music, Would draw heaven down.”
Again in _Richard II._ the Duke of Norfolk, upon realising the full despair of the word “banishment,” bursts forth into the grand speech beginning:
“And now my tongue’s use is to me no more Than an unstring’d viol or a harp.”
In _Twelfth Night_ playing the viola da gamba is mentioned as significant of good character. When Maria calls Sir Andrew Aguecheek a fool and prodigal, Sir Toby Belch defends him with:
“Fye, that you’ll say so! he plays o’ the viol di gamboys....”
In a ballad of the time of Charles I., which occurs in Mr Chappelle’s book, “Music of the Olden Time,” among the lady’s numerous accomplishments it is recorded that:
“She sings and she plays And she knows all the keys Of the viol de gambo, or lute.”
In Mr Pepys’ day, ladies cultivated the viola da gamba with great zest, and were not frowned upon for doing so, but the woman was bold who dared to play the violin. Indeed, the antipathy against that instrument for ladies was still felt at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Spohr, writing from Gotha in 1806, mentions his beloved Dorette’s skill as a violinist. But although admiring her aptitude for that instrument he was averse to seeing his future wife adopt it: “I advised her to discontinue the practice of that instrument so unbecoming to females,” he remarks in his most lofty manner. Mr Pepys, under the date 6th June 1661, makes a similar allusion to women playing the violin: “Here came two young gentlewomen to see Mr Holland, and one of them could play pretty well on the viallin, but how these ignorant people did cry her up for it!” Very different is the diarist’s manner of recounting the performance of a certain Mrs Jaggard on the viola da gamba: “After dinner I to the office ... but business not coming we broke up, and I thither again and took my wife ... to visit my Ladys Jemimah and Paulina Montagu and Mrs Elizabeth Pickering, whom we find at their father’s new house in Lincoln’s In Fields; but the house all in dirt. They received us well enough; but I did not endeavour to carry myself over familiarly with them; and so after a little stay, there coming in presently after us my Lady Aberguenny and other ladies, we back again by coach ... and thence to Jaggards again where a very good supper and great store of plate, and above all after supper Mrs Jaggard did at my entreaty play on the Vyall, but so well as I did not think any woman in England could and but few masters. I must confess it did mightily surprise me, though I knew heretofore that she could play, but little thought so well.” Mr Pepys himself took keen pleasure in playing the viol, and prided himself in being the possessor of “as good a theorbo viall and viallin as is in England.” Mrs Pepys was also permitted by her lord to play the viol, and a certain Mr Gregory, carefully selected by Mr Pepys, “he being an able and sober man,” gave her lessons. The third member of the Pepys’ _ménage_ to play the viol was Mrs Pepys’ maid, the coquettish Mercer, who had as pretty a talent for dancing a jig which, according to the gallant Mr Pepys, “she does the best I ever saw,” as playing on that instrument. Professional lady gambists were apparently few in England in the eminent Diarist’s time, but in France they already figured in the Musique du Chambre du Roi, as a Mademoiselle Heléne Sercamann is mentioned among the “Basses de viole” in 1694. A year later there were three lady “Basses de viole,” Mademoiselles de Caix l’aîne, de Caix cadette, and de Caix troisième, with their brother in the same band. The French viola da gamba player, Sainte Colombe, had two daughters who played with him at concerts at his house. One of them, says Titon du Tillet, played the viola da gamba and the other the “dessus” or treble viol, and together with their father they frequently played trios.
In the eighteenth century the cult of the gamba amongst English ladies was at its height. It became an indispensable piece of furniture in every house, and no drawing-room was complete without a viola da gamba hung upon the wall, and oh! what a godsend it proved when a dull visitor strained the hostess’s powers of entertainment to their last point.
It was in this century that Dr Burney in his colossal “History of Music” says: “This year and the preceding year [1721-22], Mrs Sarah Ottey frequently performs solos at concerts on three several instruments: harpsichord, bass-viol, and violin.” Although this little paragraph has been frequently quoted, no one appears to have cared to peer deeper into Mrs Ottey’s career. For some reason she has been allowed to live solely on the reputation of these few lines. Thanks, however, to the fact that our British Museum owns Dr Burney’s valuable collection of newspapers, the felicity of digging up a little more of Mrs Sarah Ottey has been possible to us. Apparently her first appearance took place on the 9th March 1720, for _The Daily Post_ of 5th March of that year contains the following advertisement:--
At Stationers’ Hall, near Ludgate, on Wednesday next being the 9th of March, will be performed a Consort of Vocal and Instrumental Musick by the best Masters. For the benefit of Mrs Sarah Ottey, wherein she will perform several Pieces alone on the Harpsichord, Bass Viol, and Violin. To begin exactly at Six a Clock. Tickets to be had at 5s. each, at Mrs Anderson’s at St James’s-Gate, at Rosine’s, White’s, and Williams’s Chocolate Houses, at Mr Hare’s in Cornhill, Mrs Ottey’s in Honey-Lane Market, and at the Hall-Door the said night.
Her next important appearance took place two years later at the “Theatre Royal in Lincoln’s Inn Fields,” where she performed on the three several instruments on the 27th of February 1721. The entertainment was announced “For the Benefit of Mrs Ottey.” A year later she is advertised to play at the same theatre, and the announcement gives the added information that Mrs Ottey’s husband had something to do with the “Carpenter’s Arms,” and that it is her last appearance. These quaint old advertisements are always amusing, so we will not hesitate to give the announcement of the fair gambist’s final appearance in full.
FOR THE BENEFIT OF MRS SARAH OTTEY[33]
At the Theatre Royal, in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, on Tuesday being the 27th February, will be perform’d a comedy call’d Love makes a man, or The Fop’s Fortune, in which will be performed several pieces of musick on the bass-viol, harpsichord and violin by Mrs Ottey (being the last time of her appearing in publick), with several entertainments of dancing.
Tickets to be had at Mr William’s coffee-house in St James’s Street, and at Mr Ottey’s at the Carpenter’s Arms in Honey-Lane Market.
Apparently Mrs Ottey’s career as an _artiste_ extended over but three years--that is, of course, if we are to believe the announcement that it was her last appearance in public on the 27th February 1722/3. In these days such a statement would imply that the said _artist_ or _artiste_ was good for several farewell performances, and a tour round the world as well. But the subjects of King George I., being far removed from twentieth-century customs, were perhaps more veracious in their notifications. Mr and Mrs Ottey having feathered their nest at the Carpenter’s Arms, where the lady’s talented performances were a great attraction to the patrons of the tavern, a little stretch of the imagination may easily see them migrating to a snug little farm in the country, where their dreams of rose bowers and new milk could be indulged in freely for the rest of their lives. Whether this was the true cause of Mrs Ottey’s withdrawal from public life or not, we cannot say, but certain it is that she kept her word, for there is no trace of any further concert appearances in London after the 27th February 1722/3.