L'Abel affaire

I'll leave the following poem to your sagacity. It's taken from the following opus:

A collection of original poems. By the Rev. Mr Blacklock, and other Scotch gentlemen. Edinburgh, 1760.

The last two lines are an imitation of Pope's "An Essay on Man".

An elegy on a Bass Viol, broke by a short-sighted gentleman, who sat down upon it.

Vitaque cum gemitu fugit indignata sub umbras.

I had a bass – Ah me ! it is no more;

Dumb are those strings so ready once to roar.

To gloomy hell the heav’n-taught spirit flies,

And here the head, and there the body lies.

Poor breathless thing! if I ever forget

Thy once lov’d music, may I share thy fate.

No, gentle bass, like WILLIAM shalt thou be,

Of glorious and immortal memory.

Can I forget thy reverend grimace,

Thy solemn form, and philosophic face?

Can I forget thy soul-inchanting song,,

Sweet, though sonorous, delicate, though strong?

With wanton notes your voice ne’er brib’d the ear,

Nor were old Cato’s moral more severe.

Like Cato too you fled from solitude,

And thought society your greatest good.

Whene’er you sung, you help’d another’s strain,

And was to fiddles, what he was to men.

Unhappy viol! why before thy time

Did the fates snatch thee humming in thy prime?

To thee untimely death if they decreed,

Why did they sever from thy trunk thy head?

Nor Whig nor Tory was you when alive,

Nor arm’d rebellious in the forty-five;

Could not the Sisters other death afford

Than that which honour’d many a rebel Lord?

Tell, O Melpomene! in mournful strain,

By what foul means my luckless bass was slain.

A plain, good, simple, honest man there was,

Nor friend nor foe to this unhappy bass;

Blind men, and those that have their eyes, between,

Nature had plac’d him in a purblind mean:

Tir’d with the tuneful labours of the day,

As on a chair your bass reposing lay,

Thy evil genius made this man appear.

Tha bass he saw not, though he spy’d the chair.

Souce down he sits – when, lo! strange sounds were heard,

And sad hoarse groans the purblind mortal scar’d.

With foul embrace your viol was oppress’d –

I can no more – yourself may guess the rest.

Curs’d be the wretch, from whence soe’er he come;

Accurs’d his eyes, but more accurs’d his bum.

A shrew’s sharp nails have many a visage flea’d.

And English boxers vanquish with their head:

But of all mortals stigmatiz’d in verse,

He first has murder’d with a monstrous ---

With horror I, O bass! thy fate must view;

Not only death, but ignominy too!

Had some fait she, with bum as white as snow,

Dealt thy devoted neck the fatal blow,

Pleas’d to the last you’d dy’d in chearful mood,

“And kiss’d the --- just rais’d to shed thy blood.”*

*Pleas’d to the last, he crops the flow’ry food,

And licks the hand just rais’d to shed his blood. POPE

Not sure Pope would have approved. Alexander Pope and His Dog, Bounce (1718), Jonathan Richardson

I have send a friend (or should I say an infiltrated hitman) on a mission to take a picture of one of the less known portraits of Abel - the painter is unknown, but Abel and his overbite are still very recognisable. At least, so far as I can judge from the tiny reproduction I have scrutinised... The picture will be online soon.

I have finally managed to get a copy of Chelys #31.

Ritratto di Pietro Metastasio, Pompeo Batoni

My last posts did focus a little too much on Abel's drinking problems, so just to set the records right, he was also an entrepreneur with wise views on how a musician should conduct his carrier. Burney (I know, again) testifies of that in his Memoirs of the life and writings of the Abate Metastasio (London 1796, 3 vols.):

"It was an intelligent observation of the late accomplished musician Abel, that the genius of Emanuel (sic) Bach would have been more expanded and of more general use, if, instead of being confined to the Hans town of Hambro' (=Hamburg) without a rival, he had resided in a great capital, such as Paris, Naples, or London, where he would have been stimulated to diligence and exertion by competitors, and obliged to study and respect to public taste." (p.309, 3rd volume)

Several points : once more, in the Bach family, CPE and JC were better known than their father (bless him, still clinging to his counterpoint), especially JC, the "London Bach", the only one to achieve European fame, to the extent where the French even commission him to compose an opera for them (Amadis des Gaules).
Naples mentionned as a great capital alongside London and Paris is not surprising at all, considering most of the operatic tradition springs from there : both Burney and JC Bach have travelled there and breathed in the Italianate composing style.

Vedi Napoli e poi muori, as they say

Dear all,

Would any of you have an old copy of Chelys n°31? It contains an article on late practionners of the viol and I have some faint hope that Abel will be mentionned - who knows, something new might pop up?
Let me know if you can help - I actually just need this one article, not the whole issue.
Thanks a lot,

C

It seems that poor old Abel's symptoms (the red saliva, see below) were drink-related indeed. It is called hematemesis (literally blood vomiting), and it is, according to one medical encyclopaedia, due to an ulceration of the upper digestive system caused by excessive alcohol consumption (see here for more detail).

However, I am not a hundred percent sure that giving up the old 'Hock' until symptoms subsided and then starting up again was the wisest option. After all he was only 64 when he died.

The Grove Dictionary did warn us :

"It was about this time [the 1770's] that Abel first showed signs of the illness that was to kill him; it was apparently brought on by rich living and in particular by an over-indulgence in drink, but it seems impossible to link this with any tragedy in his life (as has been suggested)."

So did Hogarth, as early as 1751:

Alcohol can do funny things to you. In the case of Abel, though, it seems that the problem originated in German dry white wine, knows also under the name of "Hock". The anecdote is recounted by WT Parke, an oboeist at the royal court who was familiar with Abel's antics, in his Musical Memoirs comprising an Account of the Genral State of Music in England from the First Commemoration of Handel in 1784 to the Year 1830, London, Henry Colburn & Richard Bentley, 2 vols. (1830):

"A week before this concert commenced, I met Abel at dinner, at the house or Mr. B—l, where, according to custom, he indulged so much in the pleasures of the table, that he was with some difficulty got into the drawing-room in the evening to a music party. Abel, having repeatedly refused to play, Mr. Richards, who led the orchestra at Drury Lane Theatre, and intimate friend of his, said to him good-humouredly, “Come, come, Abel, pray oblige us; if you’ll play I’ll play, though I know how much I must suffer by comparison.” On hearing this Abel, whose constitutional vanity was roused, stared at him indignantly, and exclaimed aloud, “Vat, shallenge Abel! No, no, dere ish but one Got and one Abel!” " (p62, 63)

But this over-indulgence led to more serious health problems:

"[On the occasion of a concert taking place in February 1784] Abel, who had recovered from a severe indisposition, performed a solo on the viol di gamba with his accustomed elegance and sensibility. Abel, who had for many years made large libations at the shrine of Bacchus, had ruptured a small blood vessel, which confined him for some time. During this illness he was ordered by his physician to keep in bed, and to abstain from wine. The latter injunction mortified him extremely. When the doctor made his daily visit, Abel, with great anxiety, asked him of wht colour the saliva was, when, if he replied that it was red, Abel would sink his head on his pillow, and exclaim in despair, “Oh! I shall never taste my beloved old hock again!” On a future day, however, Abel having put the usual question to the physician, and receiving for answer that it was white, cried out in an ecstasy of joy, “Ah, tank Got! I shall taste my beloved old hock once more!” (p52, 53, 54)

(I am here afraid to report that all English authors of the period rejoice greatly in doing impressions of the German accent of Abel and Bach, so brace yourselves.)

This mysterious red saliva illness I haven't investigated yet, but yet again, if anybody experiences the same kind of trouble, do share with us. I'll ask my GP next time I will see him, and will let you know whatever he makes of it (is there such a thing as a posthumous diagnostic?)

Back to the point, Abel's drinking problem could become a source of embarrassment. In the Memoirs of Mrs Papendiek, a lady-in-waiting to Queen Charlotte, (Court and Private Life in the Time of Queen Charlotte, being the Journals of Mrs. Papendiek, London, 2 vols. (1887)) we learn that Abel might have given way to his drinking habit after the death of his friend and partner JC Bach:

"[He] lost also much of his power of exertion from grief, and often had recourse to stimulants that overdid his intention." (p154, vol1)

What a lovely way to describe it. CS Terry reports other comments by Mrs Papendiek ( I would have like to quote straight from her diaries, but they happen to be unavailable at the BNF; they are currently being looked after):

"Before one of the Musical Fund concerts, at which he was engaged to play, his friends dined with him in order to conduct him to the platform sober. But they did not succeed in checking his 'supposed necessitous error'; he was let to the stage, his instrument, ready tuned [violists will appreciate the detail], was placed in his hands, and he played 'almost better than ever'. But when the concerto was finished, the curtain was dropped, for Abel could not rise from his seat. By reason of his failing he was 'not received in the higher circles of society as a visitor', and, when the end came, was buried 'without any honours conferred by the profession, but followed to his grave b a few select friends, of whom Mr Papendiek was one.' " (TERRY CS, John Christian Bach, London:OUP (1929) p104)


On the subject of the funerals and the supposed honours that the "profession" (Court musician) conferred, I am more than doubtful about Mrs Papendiek's statement, since JC Bach was also led to the grave by a crowd of four people (Albert, Papendiek, Zoffany, and Buntebart), and the only honour that was bestowed on him was the £100 given by Queen Charlotte to help Cecilia Grassi, his wife, to pay back some debts and go back to Italy.

Judith, I would be very interested to hear what you think of that viol (its origins, its style?) :

And the close-ups:

Could this be a Jaye or a Norman according to you?

Yet another portrait of Abel, by Jean Charles Robineau, who presumably met Abel in England. I have very little information about this painter (next to none, in fact) - has anyone got a very comprehensive 18th century art encyclopaedia?

Robineau hasn't been as kind to Abel's portliness or dishevelled looks as Gainsborough. Note that Abel is seated at a harpsichord, another instrument he was proficient in. He looks away, as if waiting for a cue to start playing the continuo to Fischer (oboe), maybe, or  Wilhelm Cramer (violin), two of his friends also belonging to the London musical sphere.

The Gentleman's Magazine and Historical Chronicle (vol. LIV, 1784), mentionned earlier,  reports on Molly Leapor, an early feminist poet...

"Molly Leapor [...] was born at Marston St. Laurence, Northamptonshire, in 1722, and died of the meazles [sic] at 24 years old, which must have been in the year 1746. Her poems have been collected and published by subscription, in two volumes 8vo. Her father was a gardener, and she was some time cook-maid in a gentleman's family in the neighbourhood. Her fondness for writing verses there displayed itself by her sometimes taking up her pen while the jack was standing still, and the meat scorching. The editors of the Poems by Eminent Ladies cautions the reader against the idea of her perform from the poem called "Mira's Picture;" and says, though she has made free with herself, it was by no means disagreeable. But the description, I remember the gentleman, in whose house she lived as servant, once gave me of it, was still harsher. He represented her as having been extremely swarthy, and quite emaciated, with a long crane-neck, and a short body, much resembling, in shape, a bass-viol. However, the talents of her mind amply compensated for the defects of her person [...]." (pp.806,807)

Clearly you can't be a poet AND a good cook.

I found a short reference to Abel's painting by Gainsborough while reading the painter's obituary (02/08/1788) in a selection of articles from the Gentleman's Magazine - other posts will follow on that subject, since the GM is one major source of informations about the London social and artistic life.
The reference is not terribly elaborate, but it follows an anecdote about the famed Drury Lane actor David Garrick (1717-1779), who apparently couldn't help making faces while posing. As a consequence, the portrait didn't achieve the same level of accuracy and effectivity as that of Abel (which is highly debatable):

"[Gainsborough's] portraits are calculated to give effect at a distance; and that effect is produced in so eminent a degree, that the picture may almost be mistaken for the original; but, closely inspected, we wonder at the delusion, and find scratches that have no appearence of eye-brows, or nostrils. He told the writer of part of this article, that he never found any portrait so difficult to hit as that of Mr. Garrick; for when he was sketching the eye-brows, and thought he had hit upon the precise situation, and looked a second time at his model, he found the eye-brows lifted up to the middle of his forehead, and when he a third time looked, they were dropped like a curtain close over the eye; so flexible and universal was the countenance of this great player, that it was impossible to catch his likeness, as it is to catch the form of a passing cloud. This portrait did not do any honour to either artist or comedian."

"Very different is the full-length portrait of Mr. Abel, with the dog under the table, which combines with the force of a sketch the high-finishing of a miniature. To this may be added many others of equal merit, though not finished with equal delicacy. Indeed, finishing was not his aim; for he usually painted with a very long and very broad brush, stood very far from his canvas, and in a room with very little light. Portraits were not his forte. His fame rested on better ground, upon an almost unparalleled extent of talent in landscapes, animals, and rustic figures. In his landscapes he has at different times assumed the manner of many different artists, and while he adhered to them equalled them all; and in some of his latter pictures so far united these different styles as to form one grand whole, peculiarly his own, and peculiarly excellent."

(Selection of Curious Articles from the Gentleman’s Magazine, in four volumes, vol.IV second edition London:Longman,Hurst, Rees, Orme and Brown, Paternoster-Row; and Munday and Slatter, Oxford (1811) pp.331, 332)

Dear all,

You who play/listen to/make viols, can you help me list whatever pieces you know for the viol that have been performed in a church set-up?
I am trying to dertermine how much the viol was a domestic kind of instrument rather than one used in services and church music.

Obviously, most of the viol solos in the Bach cantatas are in.
I have been told there were some anthems by Gibbons for voices and viols as well. But apparently, In Nomines weren't meant for religious performances (this remains to be confirmed).

Any idea, particularly regarding English church music, will be welcomed - do I need to entice you with more jam? I have fabulous quetsches and pinot jam, with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon (as my mom would say, "baby Jesus in corduroy pants") for whoever offers the best ideas.

Thanks ever so much to all of you.