194.—A PYROTECHNIC VIOLONCELLO.
In the "good old times," each player in the orchestra used to have his candlestick fastened to his music desk. We read of one of the old masters who, at a certain place in one composition, had the violinists stop playing and rap the tin shades of their candlesticks with their violin bows, then go on playing as if nothing had happened. And we may remember how old "Papa" Haydn, when his patron prince had a fit of retrenchment and was about to discharge his orchestra, had each one of the players, one at a time, in the progress of the "Farewell" symphony, to rise, blow out his candle, and take his departure, until only the leader was left. This ruse secured the continuation of the orchestra's existence.
It was told by an English clergyman, who was quite a good player on the violoncello, that when his candle began to get dim he would, if a few bars of rest offered opportunity, hastily snuff his candle with his fingers; and, not to spoil the carpet, he would quickly thrust the burnt wick into the sound holes of his 'cello and continue his performance. This was all right, if he wished to make an ash-box of his instrument. But once a wag, observing his peculiar trick, determined to have some fun at his expense, and, just before the playing began, managed to interview the parson's 'cello.
Shortly after the music was well under way, our friend spotted a favorable rest and took occasion to snuff his candle, and deposited the results in his favorite place, when bang! went the 'cello into uncountable pieces, and the good parson sprawled on the floor. Down went 'cello, parson, and all. A 'cello ne'er made so much noise before. Doubtless he treated his next instrument to a better fate than that of an ash-bin.