Musical Travels Through England

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 whatShakespear 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.