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Famous Violinists of To-day and Yesterday
By
Henry C. Lahee
_ILLUSTRATED_
Boston
The Page Company
Publishers
1899
L.C. PAGE AND COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
Ninth Impression, February, 1912
Tenth Impression, January, 1916
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C.H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U.S.A.
PREFACE.
In "Famous Violinists" the writer has endeavoured to follow the same
general plan as in "Famous Singers," viz., to give a "bird's-eye view"
of the most celebrated violinists from the earliest times to the present
day rather than a detailed account of a very few. Necessarily, those who
have been prominently before the public as performers are selected in
preference to those who have been more celebrated as teachers.
It was at first intended to arrange the chapters according to "schools,"
but it soon became evident that such a plan would lead to inextricable
confusion, and it was found best to follow the chronological order of
birth.
The "Chronological Table" is compiled from the best existing
authorities, and is not an effort to bring together a large number of
names. If such were the desire, there would be no difficulty in filling
up a large volume with names of the violinists of good capabilities, who
are well known in their own cities.
HENRY C. LAHEE.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
PREFACE ix
I. INTRODUCTORY 11
II. 1650 TO 1750 30
III. 1750 TO 1800 60
IV. PAGANINI 104
V. 1800 TO 1830 135
VI. OLE BULL 172
VII. 1830 TO 1850 204
VIII. JOACHIM 244
IX. VIOLINISTS OF TO-DAY 261
X. WOMEN AS VIOLINISTS 300
XI. FAMOUS QUARTETS 345
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
OLE BULL _Frontispiece_
ARCANGELO CORELLI 30
NICOLO PAGANINI 104
CAMILLO SIVORI 154
MARTIN PIERRE JOSEPH MARSICK 238
JOSEPH JOACHIM 244
EMIL SAURET 264
MAUD POWELL 340
FRANZ KNEISEL 362
FAMOUS VIOLINISTS OF TO-DAY AND YESTERDAY.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
There is no instrument of music made by the hands of man that holds such
a powerful sway over the emotions of every living thing capable of
hearing, as the violin. The singular powers of this beautiful instrument
have been eloquently eulogised by Oliver Wendell Holmes, in the
following words:
"Violins, too. The sweet old Amati! the divine Stradivari! played on by
ancient maestros until the bow hand lost its power, and the flying
fingers stiffened. Bequeathed to the passionate young enthusiast, who
made it whisper his hidden love, and cry his inarticulate longings, and
scream his untold agonies, and wail his monotonous despair. Passed from
his dying hand to the cold virtuoso, who let it slumber in its case for
a generation, till, when his hoard was broken up, it came forth once
more, and rode the stormy symphonies of royal orchestras, beneath the
rushing bow of their lord and leader. Into lonely prisons with
improvident artists; into convents from which arose, day and night, the
holy hymns with which its tones were blended; and back again to orgies,
in which it learned to howl and laugh as if a legion of devils were shut
up in it; then, again, to the gentle _dilettante_, who calmed it down
with easy melodies until it answered him softly as in the days of the
old maestros; and so given into our hands, its pores all full of music,
stained like the meerschaum through and through with the concentrated
hue and sweetness of all the harmonies which have kindled and faded on
its strings."
Such, indeed, has been the history of many a noble instrument fashioned
years and years ago, in the days when violin playing did not hold the
same respect and admiration that it commands at the present time.
The evolution of the violin is a matter which can be traced back to the
dark ages, but the fifteenth century may be considered as the period
when the art of making instruments of the viol class took root in Italy.
It cannot be said, however, that the violin, with the modelled back
which gives its distinctive tone, made its appearance until the middle
of the sixteenth century. In France, England, and Germany, there was
very little violin making until the beginning of the following century.
Andrea Amati was born in 1520, and he was the founder of the great
Cremona school of violin makers, of which Nicolo Amati, the grandson of
Andrea, was the most eminent. The art of violin making reached its
zenith in Italy at the time of Antonio Stradivari, who lived at Cremona.
He was born in 1644, and lived until 1737, continuing his labours almost
to the day of his death, for an instrument is in existence made by him
in the year in which he died. It is an interesting fact that the art of
violin making in Italy developed at the time when the painters of Italy
displayed their greatest genius, and when the fine arts were encouraged
by the most distinguished patronage.
As the art of violin making developed, so did that of violin playing,
but, whereas the former reached its climax with Stradivari, the latter
is still being developed, as new writers and players find new
difficulties and new effects. While there are many proofs that
orchestras existed, and that violins of all sizes were used in
ecclesiastical music, there is still some doubt as to who was the first
solo violinist of eminence. The earliest of whom we have any account
worthy of mention, was Baltazarini, a native of Piedmont, who went to
France in 1577 to superintend the music of Catharine de Medici. In 1581
he composed the music for the nuptials of the Duke de Joyeuse with Mlle.
de Vaudemont, sister of the queen, and this is said to have been the
origin of the heroic and historical ballet in France.
The progress of violin playing can also be judged somewhat by the
compositions written for the instrument. Of these the earliest known is
a "Romanesca per violone Solo e Basso se piaci," and some dances, by
Biagio Marini, published in 1620. This contains the "shake." Then there
is a "Toccata" for violin solo, by Paolo Quagliati, published in 1623,
and a collection of violin pieces by Carlo Farina, published in 1627 at
Dresden, in which the variety of bowing, double stopping, and chords
shows a great advance in the demands upon the execution.
Farina held the position of solo violinist at the Court of Saxony, and
has been called the founder of the race of violin virtuosi. One of his
compositions, named "Cappriccio Stravagante," requires the instrument to
imitate the braying of an ass, and other sounds belonging to the animal
kingdom, as well as the twanging of guitars and the fife and drum of the
soldier.
Eighteen sonatas composed by Giovanni Battista Fontana, and published at
Venice in 1641, show a distinct advance in style, and Tomasso Antonio
Vitali, himself a famous violinist, wrote a "Chaconne" of such merit
that it was played by no less a virtuoso than Joachim, at the Monday
popular concerts in London, in 1870, nearly two hundred years after its
composition.
Italy was the home of the violin, of composition for the violin, and of
violin playing, for the first school was the old Italian school, and
from Italy, by means of her celebrated violinists, who travelled and
spread throughout Europe, the other schools were established.
Violin playing grew in favour in Italy, France, Germany, and England at
about the same time, but in England it was many years before the
violinist held a position of any dignity. The fiddle, as it was called,
was regarded by the gentry with profound contempt. Butler, in
"Hudibras," refers to one Jackson, who lost a leg in the service of the
Roundheads, and became a professional "fiddler:"
"A squeaking engine he apply'd
Unto his neck, on northeast side,
Just where the hangman does dispose,
To special friends, the knot or noose;
For 'tis great grace, when statesmen straight
Dispatch a friend, let others wait.
His grisly beard was long and thick,
With which he strung his fiddle-stick;
For he to horse-tail scorned to owe,
For what on his own chin did grow."
Many years later Purcell, the composer, wrote a catch in which the
merits of a violin maker named Young, and his son, a violin player, are
recorded. The words are as follows:
"You scrapers that want a good fiddle, well strung,
You must go to the man that is old while he's Young;
But if this same Fiddle, you fain would play bold,
You must go to his son, who'll be Young when he's old.
There's old Young and young Young, both men of renown,
Old sells and young plays the best Fiddle in town,
Young and old live together, and may they live long,
Young to play an old Fiddle; old to sell a new song."
In the course of time the English learned to esteem all arts more
highly, and in no country was a great musician more sure of a warm
welcome.
Two celebrated violinists were born in the year 1630, Thomas Baltzar,
and John Banister, the former in Germany, at Lubec, and the latter in
London.
Baltzar was esteemed the finest performer of his time, and is said to
have been the first to have introduced the practice of "shifting." In
1656 Baltzar went to England, where he quite eclipsed Davis Mell, a
clockmaker, who was considered a fine player, and did much to give the
violin an impetus toward popularity. The wonder caused by his
performances in England, shortly after his arrival, is best described in
the quaint language of Anthony Wood, who "did, to his very great
astonishment, hear him play on the violin. He then saw him run up his
Fingers to the end of the Fingerboard of the Violin, and run them back
insensibly, and all with alacrity, and in very good tune, which he nor
any in England saw the like before."
At the Restoration Baltzar was appointed leader of the king's celebrated
band of twenty-four violins, but, sad to relate, "Being much admired by
all lovers of musick, his company was therefore desired; and company,
especially musical company, delighting in drinking, made him drink more
than ordinary, which brought him to his grave." And he was buried in the
cloister of Westminster Abbey.
John Banister was taught music by his father, one of the _waits_ of the
parish of St. Giles, and acquiring great proficiency on the violin was
noticed by King Charles II., who sent him to France for improvement. On
his return he was appointed chief of the king's violins. King Charles
was an admirer of everything French, and he appears, according to Pepys,
to have aroused the wrath of Banister by giving prominence to a French
fiddler named Grabu, who is said to have been an "impudent pretender."
Banister lost his place for saying, either to or in the hearing of the
king, that English performers on the violin were superior to those of
France.
John Banister lived in times when fiddle playing was not highly
esteemed, if we may judge by the following ordinance, made in 1658: "And
be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if any person or
persons, commonly called Fiddlers, or minstrels, shall at any time after
the said first day of July be taken playing, Fiddling, or making music
in any inn, alehouse, or tavern or shall be proffering themselves, or
desiring, or entreating any person or persons to hear them play ...
shall be adjudged ... rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars."
John Banister seems to have been a somewhat "sturdy beggar," though not
exactly in the sense meant by the ordinance, for he established regular
concerts at his house, "now called the Musick-school, over against the
George Tavern in Whitefriars." These concerts began in 1672, and
continued till near his death, which occurred in 1679. He too, was
buried in the cloister of Westminster Abbey. His son, also, was an
excellent performer on the violin, and played first violin in the
Italian opera when it was first introduced into England. He was one of
the musicians of Charles II., James II., William and Mary, and of Queen
Anne.
Henry Eccles, who lived about the end of the seventeenth century, went
to France, where he became a member of the king's band, and William
Corbett, who went to Italy to study the violin in 1710, was a player of
much ability; but one of the most eminent of English violinists was
Matthew Dubourg, born 1703, who played at a concert when he was so small
that he was placed on a stool in order that he might be seen. At eleven
years of age he was placed under Geminiani, who had recently established
himself in London. Dubourg was appointed, in 1728, Master and Composer
of State-Music in Ireland, and on the death of Festing, in 1752, he
became leader of the king's band in London, and held both posts until
his death in 1767.
An amusing incident is related of Dubourg and Handel. The latter visited
Dublin and presided at a performance of the "Messiah." A few evenings
later, Dubourg, who was leader of the band at the Theatre, had to
improvise a "close," and wandered about in a fit of abstract modulation
for so long that he forgot the original key. At last, however, after a
protracted shake, he landed safely on the key-note, when Handel called
out in a voice loud enough to be heard in the remotest parts of the
theatre, "Welcome home, welcome home, Mr. Dubourg."
Dubourg's name is the first on record in connection with the
performance of a concerto in an English theatre.
John Clegg, a pupil of Dubourg, was a violinist of great ability, whom
Handel placed at the head of the opera band, but his faculties became
deranged by intense study and practice, and he died at a comparatively
early age, in 1742, an inmate of Bedlam.
Another very promising young English violinist was Thomas Linley, who
exhibited great musical powers, and performed a concerto in public when
eight years old. He was sent to Italy to study under Nardini, and
through the mediation of that artist he became acquainted with Mozart,
who was about the same age. Linley's career was prematurely closed, for
at the age of twenty-two he was drowned through the capsizing of a
pleasure-boat.
This completes the list of English violinists of note who were born
previous to the nineteenth century. The later ones we shall find in
their place in succeeding chapters, but there have been very few
violinists of English birth who have followed the career of the
"virtuoso." Even Antonio James Oury, who made a series of concert tours
lasting nine years, during which he occasionally appeared in conjunction
with De Beriot and Malibran, is hardly known as a "virtuoso," and was
not all English. But there are pathetic circumstances in regard to the
career of Oury. He was the son of an Italian of noble descent, who had
served as an officer in the army of Napoleon, and had been taken
prisoner by the English. Making the best of his misfortunes the elder
Oury settled in England, married a Miss Hughes, and became a professor
of dancing and music.
The son, Antonio, began to learn the violin at the age of three, in
which he was a year or two ahead of the average virtuoso, and he made
great progress. By and by he heard Spohr, and after that his diligence
increased, for he practised, during seven months, not less than fourteen
hours a day. Even Paganini used to sink exhausted after ten hours'
practice. In 1820, we are told, he went to Paris and studied under
Baillot, Kreutzer, and Lafont, receiving from each two lessons a week
for several successive winters. With such an imposing array of talent at
his service much might be expected of Mr. Oury, and he actually made his
debut at the Philharmonic concerts in London.
There was another unfortunate officer of Napoleon who became tutor to
the Princesses of Bavaria. His name was Belleville. Mr. Oury met his
daughter, and, there being naturally a bond of sympathy between them,
they married. She was an amiable and accomplished pianist, and together
they made the nine years' concert tour.
During the period in which the art of violin playing was being perfected
on the Continent, the English were too fully occupied with commercial
pursuits to foster and develop the art. Up to the present day the most
eminent virtuoso is commonly spoken of as a "fiddler." Even Joachim,
when he went to a barber's shop in High Street, Kensington, and declined
to accept the advice of the tonsorial artist, and have his hair cropped
short, was warned that "he'd look like one o' them there fiddler chaps."
The barber apparently had no greater estimation of the violinist's art
than the latter had of the tonsorial profession, and the situation was
sufficiently ludicrous to form the subject of a picture in _Punch_, and
thus the matter assumed a serious aspect.
England has not been the home of any particular school of violin
playing, but has received her stimulus from Continental schools, to
which her sons have gone to study, and from which many eminent
violinists have been imported.
The word "school," so frequently used in connection with the art of
violin playing, seems to lead to confusion. The Italian school,
established by Corelli, appears to have been the only original school.
Its pupils scattered to various parts of Europe, and there established
other schools. To illustrate this statement, we will follow in a direct
line from Corelli, according to the table given in Grove's Dictionary.
The pupils of Corelli were Somis, Locatelli, Geminiani (Italians), and
Anet (a Frenchman), whose pupil Senaille was also French. The greatest
pupil of Somis was Pugnani, an Italian, and his greatest pupil was
Viotti, a Piedmontese, who founded the French school, and from him came
Roberrechts, his pupil De Beriot and his pupil Vieuxtemps, the two
latter Belgians, also Baillot, etc., down to Marsick and Sarasate, a
Spaniard, while through Rode, a Frenchman, we have Boehm (school of
Vienna) and his pupil Joachim, a Hungarian (school of Berlin).
Several violinists are found under two schools, as for instance,
Pugnani, who was first a pupil of Tartini and later of Somis, and Teresa
Milanollo, pupil of Lafont and of De Beriot, who appear under different
schools.
The only conclusion to be drawn is that the greatest violinists were
really independent of any school, and, by their own genius, broke loose
from tradition and established schools of their own. Some of them, on
the other hand, had but few pupils, as for instance, Paganini, who had
but two, and Sarasate. Many also were teachers rather than performers.
We have to deal chiefly with the virtuosi.
CHAPTER II.
1650 TO 1750.
Arcangelo Corelli, whose name is recognised as one of the greatest in
the history of violin playing and composition, and who laid the
foundation for all future development of technique, was born in 1653, at
Fusignano, near Imola, in the territory of Bologna.
He showed an early propensity for the violin, and studied under Bassani,
a man of extensive knowledge and capabilities, while Mattei Simonelli
was his instructor in counterpoint.
Corelli at one time sought fame away from home, and he is said to have
visited Paris, where Lulli, the chief violinist of that city,
exhibited such jealousy and violence that the mild-tempered Corelli
withdrew. In 1680 he went to Germany, where he was well received, and
entered the service of the Elector of Bavaria, but he soon returned to
Rome. His proficiency had now become so great that his fame extended
throughout Europe, and pupils flocked to him. His playing was
characterised by refined taste and elegance, and by a firm and even
tone.
[Illustration: ARCHANGE CORELLI]
When the opera was well established in Rome, about 1690, Corelli led the
band. His chief patron in Rome was Cardinal Ottoboni, and it was at his
house that an incident occurred which places Corelli at the head of
those musicians who have from time to time boldly maintained the rights
of music against conversation. He was playing a solo when he noticed the
cardinal engaged in conversation with another person. He immediately
laid down his violin, and, on being asked the reason, answered that "he
feared the music might interrupt the conversation."
Corelli was a man of gentle disposition and simple habits. His plainness
of dress and freedom from ostentation gave the impression that he was
parsimonious, and Handel says of him that "he liked nothing better than
seeing pictures without paying for it, and saving money," He was also
noted for his objection to riding in carriages.
He lived on terms of intimacy with the leading artists of his time, and
had a great fondness for pictures, of which he had a valuable
collection. These he left at his death to Cardinal Ottoboni.
It was at Cardinal Ottoboni's that Corelli became acquainted with
Handel, and at one of the musical evenings there a "Serenata," written
by the latter, was performed. Corelli does not seem to have played it
according to the ideas of the composer, for Handel, giving way to his
impetuous temper, snatched the fiddle out of Correlli's hand. Corelli
mildly remarked, "My dear Saxon, this music is in the French style, with
which I am not acquainted."
For many years Corelli remained at Rome, but at last he yielded to
temptation and went to Naples, where Scarlatti induced him to play some
of his concertos before the king. This he did in great fear, for he had
not his own orchestra with him. He found Scarlatti's musicians able to
play at first sight as well as his own did after rehearsals, and, the
performance going off well, he was again admitted to play, this time one
of his sonatas, in the royal presence. The king found the adagio so long
and dry that he quitted the room, much to Corelli's mortification. But
greater trouble was in store for the virtuoso. Scarlatti had written a
masque, which was to be played before the king, but owing to the
composer's limited knowledge of the violin, Corelli's part was very
awkward and difficult, and he failed to execute it, while the Neapolitan
violinists played it with ease. To make matters worse, Corelli made an
unfortunate mistake in the next piece, which was written in the key of C
minor, and led off in C major. The mistake was repeated, and Scarlatti
had to call out to him to set him right. His mortification was so great
that he quietly left Naples and returned to Rome. He found here a new
violinist, Valentini, who had won the admiration of the people, and he
took it so much to heart that his health failed, and he died in January,
1713.
Corelli was buried in princely style in the Pantheon, not far from
Raphael's tomb, and Cardinal Ottoboni erected a monument over his grave.
During many years after his death a solemn service, consisting of
selections from his own works, was performed in the Pantheon on the
anniversary of his funeral. On this occasion, the works were performed
in a slow, firm, and distinct manner, just as they were written, without
changing the passages in the way of embellishment, and this is probably
the way in which he himself played them.
Corelli's compositions are remarkable for delicate taste and pleasing
melodies and harmonies. He must be considered as the author of the
greatest improvement which violin music underwent at the beginning of
the eighteenth century. These compositions are regarded as invaluable
for the instruction of young players, and some of them may be frequently
heard in the concert-room at the present day, two hundred years since
they were written. Corelli's most celebrated pupils, Somis, Locatelli,
Geminiani, and Anet, settled respectively in Italy, Holland, England,
and Poland.
Giovanni Battista Somis was born in Piedmont, and, after studying under
Corelli, he went to Venice and studied under Vivaldi. He was appointed
solo violinist to the king at Turin and leader of the royal band, and
seems scarcely ever to have left Turin after these appointments. Little
is known of his playing or his compositions, but, by the work of his
pupils, it is evident that he possessed originality. He formed a style
more brilliant and more emotional, and caused a decided step forward in
the art of violin playing. He was the teacher of Leclair, Giardini, and
Chiabran, as well as Pugnani, and he forms a connecting link between the
classical schools of Italy and France.
Pietro Locatelli was born at Bergamo, and became a pupil of Corelli at a
very early age. He travelled considerably, and was undoubtedly a great
and original virtuoso. He has been accused of charlatanism, inasmuch as
he overstepped all reasonable limits in his endeavours to enlarge the
powers of execution of the violin, and has, on that account, been
called the grandfather of our modern "finger-heroes."
Locatelli settled in Amsterdam, where he died in 1764. There he
established regular public concerts, and he left a number of
compositions, some of which are used at the present day.
Jean Baptiste Lulli, one of the earliest violinists in France, is
perhaps associated with the violin in a manner disproportionate to the
part he actually played in its progress. He was a musician of great
ability, and his compositions are occasionally heard even to this day.
Lulli was born near Florence about 1633. When quite young he was taken
to France by the Chevalier de Guise, and entered the service of Mlle. de
Montpensier. He was employed in the kitchen, where he seems to have
lightened his burdens by playing tricks on the cook and tunes on the
stewpans. He also beguiled his leisure hours by playing the violin, in
which art he made such progress that the princess engaged a regular
instructor for him. Fortunately, as it turned out, his wit led him into
composing a satirical song on his employer, and he was sent off, but
shortly afterwards secured a post as one of the king's violinists in the
celebrated band of the twenty-four violins. Soon after this a special
band called _Les Petits Violons_ was formed with Lulli at their head,
and under his direction it surpassed the band of twenty-four.
Lulli found great favour at court, and, indeed, astonished the world
with his exquisite taste and skill. That he was firmly established in
the favour of the king is shown by the story that, when Corelli came to
France and played one of his sonatas, King Louis listened without
showing any sign of pleasure, and, sending for one of his own
violinists, requested him to play an aria from Lulli's opera of "Cadmus
et Hermione," which, he declared, suited his taste.
There is little doubt that the principles of the great Italian school
of violin playing were, some years later, brought into France by Anet,
who was born in 1680, and returned from Italy about 1700, but owing to
the jealousies of his colleagues, he found it advisable to leave France
in a short time, and he is said to have spent the rest of his life as
conductor of the private band of a nobleman in Poland.
Lulli is said to have been very avaricious, and his wealth included four
houses, all in the best quarters of Paris, together with securities and
appointments worth about $70,000. His death, in 1687, was caused by a
peculiar accident. While conducting a performance of his orchestra he
struck his foot with the cane which he used for marking the time. The
bruise gradually assumed such a serious condition that it ended his
life.
Jean Baptiste Senaille, who was a pupil of Anet, was born in 1687, and
turned to the Italian school. In 1719 he entered the service of the Duke
of Orleans.
Francesco Geminiani was considered the ablest of the pupils of Corelli,
and was born about 1680. When about twenty-four years of age he went to
England, where his talent secured a great reputation for him, some
people even declaring him to be superior, as a player, to Corelli. He
lived to an advanced age, and was in Dublin visiting his pupil Dubourg
at the time of his death. He was a man of unsettled habits, and was
frequently in dire necessity, caused chiefly by his love of pictures,
which led him into unwise purchases, and thus frequently into debt.
About the year 1650 three violinists were born in Italy, who all left
their mark upon the history of violin playing.
Tommaso Vitali was born at Bologna, and was leader of the orchestra in
that city, and later in Modena.
Giuseppe Torelli was leader of a church orchestra in Bologna, and
afterwards accepted the post of leader of the band of the Markgraf of
Brandenburg-Anspach, at Anspach, in Germany. To him is generally
ascribed the invention of the "Concerto."
Antonio Vivaldi was the son of a violinist, and sought his fortune in
Germany, but returned to his native city in 1713. He wrote extensively
for the violin, and is said to have added something to the development
of its technique. An anecdote is told of him to the effect that one day
during mass a theme for a fugue struck him. He immediately quitted the
altar at which he was officiating, for he united clerical with musical
duties, and, hastening to the sacristy to write down the theme,
afterwards returned and finished the mass. For this he was brought
before the Inquisition, but being considered only as a "musician," a
term synonymous with "madman," the sentence was mild,--he was forbidden
to say mass in the future.
The most illustrious pupil of Vivaldi was Francesco Maria Veracini, who
was born about 1685. He is said to have been a teacher of Tartini, who,
if he did not actually receive instruction from him, at least profited
by his example.
Veracini's travels were extensive, for he visited London in 1714 and
remained there two years, during which time he was very successful. He
then went to Dresden, where he was made composer and chamber virtuoso to
the King of Poland.
While in Dresden he threw himself out of a window and broke his leg, an
injury from which he never entirely recovered. This act is said to have
been caused by his mortification at a trick which was played upon him
for his humiliation by Pisendel, an eminent violinist, but this story is
discredited by some of the best authorities.
He left Dresden and went to Prague, where he entered the service of
Count Kinsky. In 1736 he again visited London, but met with little
success, owing to the fact that Geminiani had ingratiated himself with
the public. In 1847 Veracini returned to Pisa.
Veracini has been sometimes ranked with Tartini as a performer. He was
also a composer of ability. In making a comparison of him with Geminiani
it has been said that Geminiani was the spirit of Corelli much diluted,
while Veracini was the essence of the great master fortified with _l'eau
de vie_.
Veracini was conceited and vainglorious, and these traits of his
character have given rise to a number of rather inconsequential stories.
He was a most excellent conductor of orchestra, and Doctor Burney
mentions having heard him lead a band in such a bold and masterly manner
as he had never before witnessed. Soon after leaving London Veracini was
shipwrecked, and lost his two Stainer violins, which he stated were the
best in the world. These instruments he named St. Peter and St. Paul.
The name of Giuseppe Tartini will ever live as that of one of the
greatest performers on, and composers for, the violin. Born at Pirano,
in 1692, his career may be said to have commenced with the eighteenth
century. He was not only one of the greatest violinists of all time, and
an eminent composer, but he was a scientific writer on musical physics,
and was the first to discover the fact that, in playing double stops,
their accuracy can be determined by the production of a third sound. He
also wrote a little work on the execution and employment of the various
kinds of shakes, mordents, cadenzas, etc., according to the usage of the
classical Italian school.
Tartini's father, who was an elected Nobile of Parenzo, being a pious
Church benefactor, intended his son for the Church, and sent him to an
ecclesiastical school at Capo d'Istria, where he received his first
instruction in music. Finding himself very much averse to an
ecclesiastical career, Tartini entered the University of Padua to study
law, but this also proved distasteful to him. He was a youth of highly
impulsive temperament, and became so much enamoured of the art of
fencing that he, at one time, seriously contemplated adopting it as a
profession. This very impulsive nature caused him to fall in love with a
niece of the Archbishop of Padua, to whom he was secretly married before
he was twenty years of age.
The news of this marriage caused Tartini's parents to withdraw their
support from him, and it so enraged the archbishop that the bridegroom
was obliged to fly from Padua. After some wanderings he was received
into a monastery at Assisi, of which a relative was an inmate. Here he
resumed his musical studies, but though he learned composition of Padre
Boemo, the organist of the monastery, he was his own teacher on the
violin. The influence of the quiet monastic life caused a complete
change in his character, and he acquired the modesty of manner and
serenity of mind for which he was noted later in life.
One day, during the service, a gust of wind blew aside the curtain
behind which Tartini was playing, and a Paduan, who remembered the
archbishop's wrath and recognised the object of it, carried the news of
his discovery to the worthy prelate. Time had, however, mollified him,
and instead of still further persecuting the refugee, he gave his
consent to the union of the young couple, and Tartini and his wife went
to Venice, where he intended to follow the profession of a violinist.
Here he met and heard Francesco Maria Veracini, who was some seven years
his senior, and whose style of playing made such a deep impression on
him that he at once withdrew to Ancona, to correct the errors of his own
technique, which, as he was self-taught, were not a few.
After some years of study and retirement, he reappeared at Padua, where
he was appointed solo violinist in the chapel of San Antonio, the choir
and orchestra of which already enjoyed a high reputation. It is said
that the performance of Veracini had an effect upon Tartini beyond that
of causing him to quit Venice. It made him dream, and the dream as told
by Tartini himself to M. de Lalande is as follows:
"He dreamed one night (in 1713) that he had made a compact with the
devil, who promised to be at his service on all occasions; and, during
this vision, everything succeeded according to his mind; his wishes were
anticipated, and his desires always surpassed, by the assistance of his
new servant. In short, he imagined that he presented the devil with his
violin, in order to discover what kind of a musician he was, when, to
his great astonishment, he heard him play a solo so singularly
beautiful, which he executed with such superior taste and precision,
that it surpassed all the music he had ever heard or conceived in his
life. So great was his surprise, and so exquisite his delight upon this
occasion, that it deprived him of the power of breathing. He awoke with
the violence of his sensations, and instantly seized his fiddle in hopes
of expressing what he had just heard; but in vain. He, however, directly
composed a piece, which is perhaps the best of all his works, and called
it the 'Devil's Sonata;' he knew it, however, to be so inferior to what
his sleep had produced, that he stated he would have broken his
instrument, and abandoned music for ever, if he could have subsisted by
other means."
This composition is said to have secured for him the position in the
chapel of San Antonio, where he remained until 1723, in which year he
was invited to play at the coronation festivities of Charles VI. at
Prague. On this occasion he met Count Kinsky, a rich and enthusiastic
amateur, who kept an excellent private orchestra. Tartini was engaged as
conductor and remained in that position three years, then returning to
his old post at Padua, from which nothing induced him to part, except
for brief intervals. At Padua Tartini carried on the chief work of his
life and established the Paduan school of violin playing. His ability as
a teacher is proved by the large number of excellent pupils he formed.
Nardini, Bini, Manfredi, Ferrari, Graun, and Lahoussaye are among the
most eminent, and were attached to him by bonds of most intimate
friendship to his life's end.
Tartini's contemporaries all agree in crediting him with those
qualities which make a great player. He had a fine tone, unlimited
command of finger-board and bow, enabling him to overcome the greatest
difficulties with remarkable ease, perfect intonation in double stops,
and a most brilliant shake and double-shake, which he executed equally
well with all fingers. The spirit of rivalry had no place in his amiable
and gentle disposition. Both as a player and composer Tartini was the
true successor of Corelli, representing in both respects the next step
in the development of the art.
Tartini lived until the year 1770. He had, as Doctor Burney says, "no
other children than his scholars, of whom his care was constantly
paternal," Nardini, his first and favourite pupil, came from Leghorn to
see him in his sickness and attend him in his last moments with true
filial affection and tenderness. He was buried in the Church of St.
Catharine, a solemn requiem being held in the chapel of San Antonio,
and at a later period his memory was honoured by a statue which was
erected in the Prato della Valle, a public walk at Padua, where it may
be seen among the statues of the most eminent men connected with that
famous university.
Jean Marie Leclair, a pupil of Somis, was a Frenchman, born at Lyons,
and he began life as a dancer at the Rouen Theatre. He went to Turin as
ballet master and met Somis, who induced him to take up the violin and
apply himself to serious study. On returning to Paris, he was appointed
ripieno-violinist at the Opera, and in 1731 became a member of the royal
band, but he, although undoubtedly superior to any violinist in Paris at
that time, never seems to have made much of a success, for he resigned
his positions and occupied himself exclusively with teaching and
composition, and it is on the merits of his works that he occupies a
high place among the great classical masters of the violin. Leclair was
murdered late one night close to the door of his own house, shortly
after his return from Amsterdam, to which place he had gone solely for
the purpose of hearing Locatelli. No motive for the crime was ever
discovered, nor was the murderer found.
Gaetano Pugnani was a native of Turin, and to him more than to any other
master is due the preservation of the pure, grand style of Corelli,
Tartini, and Vivaldi, for he combined the prominent qualities of style
and technique of all three. He became first violin to the Sardinian
court in 1752, but travelled extensively. He made long stays in Paris
and London, where he was for a time leader of the opera band, and
produced an opera of his own, also publishing a number of his
compositions. In 1770 he was at Turin, where he remained to the end of
his life as teacher, conductor, and composer.
Felice Giardini, another pupil of Somis, was born at Turin and became
one of the foremost violinists in Europe. In 1750 he went to England
where he made his first appearance at a benefit concert for Cuzzoni, the
celebrated opera singer, then in the sere and yellow leaf of her career.
His performance was so brilliant that he became established as the best
violinist who had yet appeared in England, and in 1754 he was placed at
the head of the opera orchestra, succeeding Festing. Soon afterwards he
joined with the singer Mingotti in the management of opera, but the
attempt was not a financial success. Notwithstanding his excellence as a
performer and composer and the fine appointment which he held, Giardini
died in abject poverty at Moscow, to which place he had gone after
finding himself superseded in England by newcomers.
Among the pupils of Tartini the most eminent was Pietro Nardini, who was
born at Fibiano, a village of Tuscany, in 1722. He became solo violinist
at the court of Stuttgart and remained there fifteen years. In 1767 he
went to Leghorn for a short time, and then returned to Padua, where he
remained with his old master Tartini until the latter's death, when he
was appointed director of music to the court of the Duke of Tuscany, in
whose service he remained many years.
Of his playing, Leopold Mozart, himself an eminent violinist, writes:
"The beauty, purity and equality of his tone, and the tastefulness of
his cantabile playing, cannot be surpassed; but he does not execute
great difficulties." His compositions are marked by vivacity, grace, and
sweet sentimentality, but he has neither the depth of feeling, the grand
pathos, nor the concentrated energy of his master Tartini.
Antonio Lolli, who was born at Bergamo about 1730, appears to have been
somewhat of a charlatan. He was self-taught, and, though a performer of
a good deal of brilliancy, was but a poor musician. He was restless,
vain, and conceited, and addicted to gambling. He is said to have played
the most difficult double-stops, octaves, tenths, double-shakes in
thirds and sixths, harmonics, etc., with the greatest ease and
certainty. At one time he appeared as a rival of Nardini, with whom he
is said to have had a contest, and whom he is supposed to have defeated.
According to some accounts, he managed to excite such universal
admiration in advance of the contest that Nardini withdrew.
Lolli was so eccentric that he was considered by many people to be
insane, and Doctor Burney, in writing of him, says, "I am convinced that
in his lucid intervals, he was in a serious style a very great,
expressive, and admirable performer;" but Doctor Burney does not mention
any lucid interval.
Early in the eighteenth century Franz Benda was born in Bohemia at the
village of Altbenatky, and Benda became the founder of a German school
of violin playing. In his youth he was a chorister at Prague and
afterward in the Chapel Royal at Dresden. At the same time he began to
study the violin, and soon joined a company of strolling musicians who
attended fetes, fairs, etc. At eighteen years of age Benda abandoned
this wandering life and returned to Prague, going thence to Vienna,
where he pursued his study of the violin under Graun, a pupil of
Tartini. After two years he was appointed chapel master at Warsaw, and
eventually he became a member of the Prince Royal of Prussia's band, and
then concert master to the king.
Benda was a master of all the difficulties of violin playing, and the
rapidity of his execution and the mellow sweetness of his highest notes
were unequalled. He had many pupils and wrote a number of works, chiefly
exercises and studies for the violin.
A violinist whose career had a great influence on musical life in
England was Johann Peter Salomon, a pupil of Benda, and it is necessary
to speak of him because his name is so frequently mentioned in
connection with other artists during the latter half of the eighteenth
century.
Salomon was born at Bonn in the same house in which Beethoven was born,
and of Salomon, after his death, Beethoven wrote: "Salomon's death
grieves me much, for he was a noble man, and I remember him ever since I
was a child."
Salomon became an expert violinist at an early age, and travelled a good
deal in Europe before he settled in England, which was in 1781, when he
made his appearance at Covent Garden Theatre. He was criticised thus:
"He does not play in the most graceful style, it must be confessed, but
his tone and execution are such as cannot fail to secure him a number of
admirers in the musical world."
He established a series of subscription concerts at the Hanover Square
rooms, and produced symphonies of Mozart and Haydn. In fact, he was
connected with almost every celebrity who appeared in England for many
years. He was instrumental in bringing Haydn to England, and toward the
end of his career he was actively interested in the foundation of the
Philharmonic Society. He was noted more as a quartet player than as a
soloist, and Haydn's last quartets were composed especially to suit his
style of playing. He was a man of much cultivation and moved in
distinguished society. His death was caused by a fall from his horse. He
was the possessor of a Stradivarius violin which was said to have
belonged to Corelli and to have had his name upon it. This he bequeathed
to Sir Patrick Blake of Bury St. Edmunds.
CHAPTER III.
1750 TO 1800.
Giovanni Baptiste Viotti has been called the last great representative
of the classical Italian school, and it is also stated that with Viotti
began the modern school of the violin. In whatever light he may be
regarded, he was undoubtedly one of the greatest violinists of all. He
retained in his style of playing and composing the dignified simplicity
and noble pathos of the great masters of the Italian school, treating
his instrument above all as a singing voice, and keeping strictly within
its natural resources. According to Baillot, one of his most
distinguished pupils, his style was "perfection," a word which covers a
host of virtues.
Viotti was born in 1753 at Fontanetto, a village in Piedmont. His first
musical instruction was received from his father, who is severally
mentioned as a blacksmith and as a horn player. His musical talent being
early noticeable, he was sent to Turin and placed by Prince Pozzo de la
Cisterna under the tutelage of Pugnani, and was soon received into the
royal band. In 1780 he travelled extensively, visiting Germany, Poland,
and Russia, and meeting with great success. The Empress Catharine
endeavoured to induce him to remain at St. Petersburg, but without
success, and he proceeded to London, where he soon eclipsed all other
violinists. In 1782 he went to Paris and made his debut at the
celebrated Concert Spirituels. He was at once acknowledged as the
greatest living violinist, but soon after this he ceased altogether to
play in public. This decision seems to have been caused by the fact that
an inferior player once achieved a greater success than he. He was
evidently of a sensitive nature, and there is an anecdote told of him
which is amusing even if its authenticity is open to question. Viotti
was commanded to play a concerto at the Court of Louis XVI., at
Versailles, and had proceeded through about half of his performance,
when the attention of the audience was diverted by the arrival of a
distinguished guest. Noise and confusion reigned where silence should
have been observed, and Viotti, in a fit of indignation, removed the
music from the desk and left the platform.
In 1783 Viotti returned to Italy for a short time, but the following
year he was back in Paris teaching, composing, and benefiting the art of
music in every way except by public performance. He became the artistic
manager of the Italian Opera, and brought together a brilliant number of
singers. In this business he came in contact with Cherubini, the
composer, with whom he was on great terms of friendship. This
enterprise was suddenly stopped by the revolution, and Viotti was
obliged to leave France, having lost almost everything that he
possessed.
He went to London and renewed his former successes, playing again in
public at Salomon's concerts, and in the drawing-rooms of the
aristocracy. But here his ill-luck followed him, for London being full
of French refugees, and the officials being suspicious of them all, he
was warned to leave England, as it was feared that he was connected with
some political conspiracy.
This misfortune occurred in 1798, and Viotti retired to a small village
called Schoenfeld, not far from Hamburg, where he lived in strict
seclusion. During this time he was by no means idle, for he composed
some of his finest works, notably the six duets for violins, which he
prefaced by these words: "This book is the fruit of leisure afforded me
by misfortune. Some of the pieces were dictated by trouble, others by
hope." It was also during this period of retirement that he perfected
his pupil Pixis, who, with his father, lived at Schoenfeld a whole
summer for the express purpose of receiving Viotti's instruction.
In 1801 Viotti found himself at liberty to visit England once more, but
when he returned he astonished the world by going into the wine
business, in which he succeeded in getting rid of the remainder of his
fortune. As a man of business the strictest integrity and honour
regulated his transactions, and his feelings were kind and benevolent,
whilst as a musician, he is said never to have been surpassed in any of
the highest qualities of violin playing.
At the close of his career as a wine merchant, he returned to Paris to
resume his regular profession, and was appointed director of the Grand
Opera, but he failed to rescue the opera from its state of decadence,
and, finding the duties too arduous for one of his age and state of
health, he retired on a small pension. In 1822 he returned once more to
England, where he passed the remainder of his life in quietude.
While travelling in Switzerland, and enjoying the beauties of the
scenery, Viotti heard for the first time the plaintive notes of the Ranz
des Vaches given forth by a mountain horn, and this melody so impressed
him that he learned it and frequently played it on his violin. The
subject was referred to by him with great enthusiasm in his letters to
his friends.
There are numerous anecdotes about Viotti in reference to his ready
repartee and to his generous nature. One of the most interesting is that
concerning a tin violin. He had been strolling one evening on the Champs
Elysees, in Paris, with a friend (Langle), when his attention was
arrested by some harsh, discordant sounds, which, on investigation,
proved to be the tones of a tin fiddle, played by a blind and aged
street musician. Viotti offered the man twenty francs for the curious
instrument, which had been made by the old man's nephew, who was a
tinker. Viotti took the instrument and played upon it, producing some
most remarkable effects. The performance drew a small crowd, and Langle,
with true instinct, took the old man's hat and, passing it round,
collected a respectable sum, which was handed to the aged beggar.
When Viotti got out his purse to give the twenty francs the old man
thought better of his bargain, for, said he, "I did not know the violin
was so good. I ought to have at least double the amount for it."
Viotti, pleased with the implied compliment, did not hesitate to give
the forty francs, and then walked off with his newly acquired curiosity.
The nephew, however, who now arrived to take the old man home, on
hearing the story ran after Viotti, and offered to supply him with as
many as he would like for six francs apiece.
Violin literature owes much to Viotti, for his compositions are numerous
and contain beauties that have never been surpassed. His advice was
sought by many young musicians, and among these was Rossini, who was
destined to become great. De Beriot also sought out Viotti and played
before him, but the old violinist told him that he had already acquired
an original style which only required cultivating to lead to success,
and that he could do nothing for him.
Viotti was one of the first to use the Tourte bow, and he studied its
effects closely, so that the sweep of his bow became his great
characteristic, and was alike the admiration of his friends and the
despair of his rivals. He died in 1824, after about two years of
retirement.
Among Viotti's most prominent pupils were Roberrechts, Pixis, Alday le
jeune, Cartier, Rode, Mori, Durand, and Baillot, also Mlle. Gerbini and
Madame Paravicini. Roberrechts became the teacher of De Beriot, who in
turn taught Vieuxtemps, Teresa Milanollo, and Lauterbach. Baillot taught
Habeneck, who taught Alard, Leonard, Prume, Cuvillon, and Mazas. From
Alard we have Sarasate, and from Leonard, Marsick and Dengremont, while
through Rode we have Boehm, and from him a large number of eminent
violinists, including G. Hellmesberger, Ernst, Dont, Singer, L. Strauss,
Joachim, Rappoldi. Some of them we shall refer to at length as great
performers, others were celebrated more as teachers.
Rodolphe Kreutzer, who was born at Versailles in 1766, is the third in
order of development of the four great representative masters of the
classical violin school of Paris; the others being Viotti, first, Rode,
second, and Baillot, fourth. With Baillot he compiled the famous
"Methode de Violon" for the use of the students at the Conservatoire.
Kreutzer's first teacher was his father, who was a musician in the
king's chapel, but he was soon placed under Anton Stamitz, and at the
age of thirteen he played a concerto in public, with great success. This
is said by some writers to have been his own composition, though by
others it was attributed to his teacher.
Kreutzer made a tour through the north of Italy, Germany, and Holland,
during which he acquired the reputation of being one of the first
violinists in Europe. On his return to Paris, he turned his attention to
dramatic music, and composed two grand operas, which were performed
before the court, and secured for him the patronage of Marie Antoinette.
He also became first violin at the Opera Comique, and professor at the
Conservatoire, where he formed some excellent pupils, among them being
D'Artot, Rovelli, the teacher of Molique, Massart, the teacher of
Wieniawski and Teresina Tua, and Lafont, who also became a pupil of De
Beriot. On Rode's departure for Russia, Kreutzer succeeded him as solo
violin at the Opera, later becoming Chef d'Orchestre, and after fourteen
years' service in this capacity he was decorated with the insignia of
the Legion of Honour, and became General Director of the Music at the
Opera. In 1826 he resigned his post and retired to Geneva, where he died
in 1831. Kreutzer was a prolific composer, and his compositions include
forty dramatic works and a great number of pieces for the violin.
In 1798, when Kreutzer was at Vienna in the service of the French
ambassador, Bernadotte, he made the acquaintance of Beethoven, and was
afterwards honoured by that great composer with the dedication to him of
the famous Sonata, Op. 47, which was first played by Beethoven and the
violinist Bridgetower, at the Augarten, in May, 1803, either the 17th
or the 24th. This is the sonata the name of which Count Leo Tolstoi took
for his famous book, though to the vast majority of hearers it will
always remain a mystery how the classical harmonies of the sonata could
have aroused the passions which form the _raison d'etre_ of the book.
Kreutzer was noted for his style of bowing, his splendid tone, and the
clearness of his execution.
With three such masters as Baillot, Rode, and Kreutzer, besides Viotti,
who was frequently in Paris, the French school of violin playing had now
superseded the Italian.
Pierre Marie Francois de Sales Baillot, who was associated with Rode and
Kreutzer in the compilation of the celebrated "Methode du Violon," was
born at Passy, near Paris, in 1771, and became one of the most excellent
violinists that France ever produced. His eminence in his profession
was not obtained without a long struggle against great difficulties, for
at the age of twelve he lost his father, who had kept a school, and
became dependent upon friends for his education. His musical talent was
remarkable at an early age, and he received his first instruction from
an Italian named Polidori. At the age of nine he was placed under a
French teacher named Sainte-Marie, whose training gave him the severe
state and methodical qualities by which his playing was always
distinguished.
His love for his instrument was greatly augmented when, at the age of
ten, he heard Viotti play one of his concertos, and from that day the
great violinist became his model.
When his father died a year or two later, a government official, M. de
Boucheporn, sent him, with his own children, to Rome, where he was
placed with Pollani, a pupil of Nardini, under whom he made rapid
progress, and soon began to play in public. He was, however, unable to
follow directly in the path of his profession, and for five years he
travelled with his benefactor, acting as private secretary, and securing
but little time for his violin playing.
In 1791 he returned to Paris, and Viotti secured a place for him in the
opera orchestra, but on being offered a position in the Ministere des
Finances, he gave up his operatic work, and for some years devoted only
his leisure to the study of the violin. He now had to serve with the
army for twenty months, at the end of which time he once more determined
to take up music as a profession, and soon appeared in public with a
concerto of Viotti. This performance established his reputation, and he
was offered a professorship of violin playing at the Conservatoire, then
recently opened.
His next appointment was to the private band of Napoleon, after which
he travelled for three years in Russia with the violoncello player
Lemare, earning great fame.
Returning to Paris, he established concerts for chamber music, which
proved successful, and built up for him a reputation as an unrivalled
quartet player. He travelled again, visiting Holland, Belgium, and
England, and then he became leader of the opera band in Paris and of the
royal band. He made a final tour in Switzerland in 1833, and died in
1842.
Baillot is considered to have been the last distinguished representative
of the great classical school of violin playing in Paris. In his "L'Art
du Violon" he points out the chief distinction between the old and the
modern style of violin playing to be the absence of the dramatic element
in the former, and its predominance in the latter, thus enabling the
executive art to follow the progress marked out by the composer, and to
bring out the powerful contrasts and enlarged ideas of the modern
musical compositions. After the time of Baillot and his contemporaries
the style of Paganini became predominant in Paris, but the influence of
the Paris school extended to Germany, where Spohr must be considered the
direct descendant artistically of Viotti and Rode.
Perhaps the most illustrious pupil of Viotti was Pierre Rode, who was
born at Bordeaux in 1774, and exhibited such exceptional talent that at
the age of sixteen he was one of the violins at the Theatre Feydeau in
Paris. He had made his debut in Paris at the Theatre de Monsieur, when
he played Viotti's thirteenth concerto with complete success. In 1794 he
began to travel, and made a tour through Holland and North Germany,
visiting England, driven there by stress of weather, on his way home. He
appeared once in London, and then left for Holland and Germany again. On
his return to France he was appointed professor of the violin at the
Conservatoire, then newly established. In 1799 ne made a trip to Spain,
where he met Boccherini. The following year he returned to Paris, where
he was made solo violinist to the First Consul, and it was at this
period that he gained his greatest success, when he played with Kreutzer
a duo concertante of the latter's composition. After this he went to
Russia, where he was enthusiastically received, and was appointed one of
the emperor's musicians. The life in Russia, however, overtaxing his
strength, from that time his powers began to fail, and he met with many
disappointments. In 1814 he married, and, although he made an
unsuccessful attempt to renew his public career, he may be said to have
retired. He died at Bordeaux in 1830.
Of Rode's playing in his best days we are told that he displayed all the
best qualities of a grand, noble, pure, and thoroughly musical style.
His intonation was perfect, his tone large and pure, and boldness,
vigour, deep and tender feeling characterised his performances. In fact
he was no mere virtuoso but a true artist. His musical nature shows
itself in his compositions, which are thoroughly suited to the nature of
the violin, and have a noble, dignified character and considerable charm
of melody, though they show only moderate creative power. He had few
pupils, but his influence through his example during his travels, and
through his compositions, was very great indeed.
Beethoven wrote for Rode, after hearing him play in Vienna, the famous
violin Romance in F, Op. 50, one of the highest possible testimonials to
Rode's ability as a violinist. It is known, however, that he was obliged
to seek assistance in scoring his own compositions, and therefore lacked
an important part of a musical education.
The most celebrated pupil of Baillot was Francois Antoine Habeneck, the
son of a musician in a French regimental band. During his early youth
Habeneck was taught by his father, and at the age of ten played
concertos in public. He visited many places with his father's regiment,
which was finally stationed at Brest. At the age of twenty he went to
Paris and entered the Conservatoire, where in 1804 he was awarded first
prize for violin playing, and became a sub-professor.
The Empress Josephine, on hearing him play, was so pleased that she
granted him a pension of twelve hundred francs. He became one of the
first violins at the Opera, but his special forte was as leader of
orchestras, and he held that post at the Conservatoire, on account of
his efficiency, until 1815, when the advent of the allied armies caused
it to be closed.
Habeneck was instrumental in bringing forward the great orchestral works
of Beethoven. He became director of the Grand Opera, and
inspector-general of the Conservatoire.
Habeneck is said to have been greatly addicted to taking snuff, and this
habit led to an amusing episode with Berlioz, which the latter regarded
in a very unfriendly light. At a public performance of the Requiem of
Berlioz, the composer had arranged with Habeneck to conduct the music,
Berlioz taking his seat close behind the conductor. The work was
commenced, and had been proceeded with some little time, when Habeneck
(presumably taking advantage of what seemed to him a favourable moment)
placed his baton on the desk, took out his snuff-box, and proceeded to
take a pinch. Berlioz, aware of the breakers ahead, rushed to the helm
and saved the wreck of his composition by beating time with his arm.
Habeneck, when the danger was passed, said, "What a cold perspiration I
was in! Without you we should assuredly have been lost." "Yes," said
the composer, "I know it well," accompanying his words with an
expression of countenance betokening suspicion of Habeneck's honesty of
purpose. The violinist little dreamed that this gratification of his
weakness for snuff-taking would be regarded in the pages of Berlioz's
Memoirs as having been indulged in from base motives.
Habeneck died in 1849. He published only a few of his compositions.
One of the most eminent violinists of the French school, who flourished
during the early part of the nineteenth century, was Charles Philippe
Lafont. Besides brilliant technical capabilities he had a sympathetic
tone and a most elegant style, and these qualities gave him a very high
position in the ranks of performers.
Lafont was born at Paris, December 7, 1781, and received his first
lessons from his mother, who afterward placed him under her brother,
Berthaume. Under his care he made a successful concert tour through
Germany and other countries as early as 1792, after which he returned to
Paris and settled down to study under Rudolf Kreutzer.
For a time his studies were interrupted by an attempt to become a
singer, and he appeared at the Theatre Feydeau, which had then been
opened by Viotti. This diversion being soon at an end, he returned to
the violin, but on the outbreak of the revolution in France he left the
country and travelled throughout Europe, being absent from Paris, with
the exception of a short visit in 1805, until 1815.
During his travels he was made chamber virtuoso to the Czar Alexander,
and on his return to France he became first violinist of the royal
chamber musicians of Louis XVIII., and musical accompanist to the
Duchesse de Berry.
Lafont's career came to a sudden end by the overturning of a carriage
while on a concert tour in the south of France in 1839.
He was one of the numerous violinists who challenged Paganini to an
artistic duel, in which he got the worst of it, though his admirers
accounted for his defeat by the fact that the contest took place at La
Scala, in Milan, where the sympathy of the audience was in favour of the
Italian virtuoso.
Lafont was a prolific composer, but few of his works have survived. He
was also the owner of a magnificent Guarnerius violin, which is now said
to be the property of Adolf Brodsky.
As a composer Spohr probably influenced the modern style of violin
playing even more than as a player, for he lifted the concerto to the
dignity of a work of art, whereas it had formerly been simply a show
piece, though not always without merit. He set a great example of
purity of style and legitimate treatment of the instrument, and is
considered to have had a more beneficial effect on violin playing than
Paganini, who was born in the same year, 1784.
Louis Spohr was the son of a physician, who, two years after Louis was
born at Brunswick, took up his residence at Seesen, where the childhood
of the future virtuoso was passed. Both father and mother were musical,
the former playing the flute, while the latter was a pianist and singer.
It is said that young Spohr showed his talents remarkably early, and was
able to sing duets with his mother when only four years of age. At five
he began to learn the violin and at six he could take part in
Kalkbrenner's trios. He also began to compose music, and under his
father's methodical guidance acquired the habit of finishing everything
that he began to write, without erasure or alteration. His instruction
in the art of composition was confined to the mere rudiments, and he
acquired the art chiefly by studying the scores of the great composers.
Spohr's first public appearance was at a school concert, and such was
his success that he was asked to repeat the performance at a concert
given by the duke's band. More study ensued, and then, at the age of
fourteen, he undertook to make his first artistic tour, and set out for
Hamburg, carrying with him some letters of introduction.
It seems that the people of Hamburg did not show much enthusiasm over
the young artist, for he was unable to arrange a hearing, and, having
exhausted his funds, he returned to Brunswick in the time-honoured
manner of unsuccessful artists,--on foot. Spohr's experience seems to
have produced upon him the same effect that many aspiring young players
have since felt, viz., that he had better go on with his studies. He
accordingly presented a petition to the Duke of Brunswick asking for
means to carry out his desires. The duke was pleased with him, and not
only gave him a place in his band, but also agreed to pay his expenses
while he studied with one of the most eminent teachers of the day.
Neither Viotti nor Ferdinand Eck could receive him as a pupil, but by
the advice of the latter, young Spohr was placed under his brother,
Franz Eck, who was then travelling in Germany. With Franz Eck an
agreement was made by the duke, under which Spohr should travel with
him, and study _en route_. During the continuance of this agreement
Spohr practised sometimes ten hours a day, and being so constantly with
his teacher he made great progress. On his return to Brunswick he was
appointed first violinist in the duke's band, and the following year he
once more undertook a concert tour on his own account, travelling
through Saxony and Prussia, and meeting with great enthusiasm.
While in Russia he met Clementi and Field, and he was presented with a
most valuable Guarnerius violin by an enthusiast. This instrument he
lost while on the way to France, where he intended to make a concert
tour. Just before entering Goettingen the portmanteau which contained the
violin was taken from the coach, and owing to the delays of officialism
it was never recovered. The thieves had been seen with the booty in
their possession, but in order to arrest them it was necessary to travel
some nine miles for the necessary warrant and officer. In the meantime
they had disappeared, as thieves occasionally do.
In 1805 Spohr was appointed concert-master in the band of the Duke of
Gotha, and while holding this position he met, wooed, and wedded the
Frauelein Dorothea Scheidler, an excellent harp player, who for many
years afterwards appeared with him in all his concerts, and for whom he
wrote many solo pieces as well as some sonatas for violin and harp. In
view of this important step the following description of Spohr's
personal appearance may be interesting: "The front of Jove himself is
expressed in the expansive forehead, massive, high, and broad; the
speaking eyes that glance steadfastly and clearly under the finely
pencilled arches of the eyebrows, which add a new grace to their
lustrous fire; the long, straight nose with sharply curved nostrils,
imperial with the pride of sensibility and spiritual power; the firm,
handsome mouth, and the powerful chin, with its strong outlines melted
into the utter grace of oval curves. In its calmness and repose, in its
subdued strength and pervading serenity, it is the picture of the man's
life in little." Spohr seems to have been somewhat attractive.
Another authority tells us, in less flowery language, that he was of
herculean frame and very strong constitution.
In 1807 he made a tour, with his wife, through Germany, and while at
Munich the king showed his gallantry to Madame Spohr in a most gracious
manner. The usher had neglected to place a chair on the platform for
her, and the king handed up his own gilded throne chair, in spite of her
protestations. The anecdote would be more satisfactory if it stated what
the king sat upon during the concert, but that is left to the
imagination. The king had some bad habits, and, we are told, was very
fond of playing cards during the concerts. Spohr was not accustomed to
having his audiences indulge in cards, and so informed the chamberlain,
absolutely declining to play unless the cards were put aside for the
time being. It was a delicate task that fell to the lot of the
chamberlain, but he carried it through with the greatest diplomacy, each
side making a slight concession: the king on his part promising to
abstain from card playing during Spohr's performance on condition that
the violinist's two pieces should immediately follow each other on the
program, and Spohr withdrawing his embargo from the whole concert on
condition that the king would abstain from his favourite amusement
during his particular performance. The king, however, seems to have put
in the last blow, for on the conclusion of the violin solos he gave no
signal for applause, and as it would be a breach of court manners for
any one to applaud without his Majesty's consent, the artist was obliged
to make his bow and retire amidst deathly silence.
In 1808 Spohr wrote his first opera, but although it was accepted for
representation, it was never performed in public.
During this year Napoleon held his celebrated congress of princes at
Erfurt. Spohr was consumed by a burning desire to behold Napoleon and
the surrounding princes, and went to Erfurt. Here he found that a
French theatrical troupe was performing every evening before the august
assembly, but only the privileged few could by any possibility gain
admittance to the theatre. Spohr's ingenuity was equal to the emergency,
and making friends with the second horn player, he induced that artist
to allow him to substitute for him one night. Spohr had never in his
life attempted to play the horn, but it was now necessary for him to
acquire the art before night, and he set to work with such vim that by
the time of the performance his lips were swollen and black, but he was
able to produce the requisite tones. The orchestra having received
strict injunctions to sit with their backs to the brilliant assembly,
probably to protect their eyesight from its dazzling effects, Spohr
fitted himself out with a small mirror, and placing this upon his
music-rack, he was able to enjoy for a couple of hours the vision of the
great Napoleon, who, with his most distinguished guests, occupied the
front row of the stalls.
Spohr remained at Gotha until 1813, when he was offered and accepted the
post of the leadership at the Theatre an der Wien at Vienna, and while
here he composed his opera of "Faust," which, however, was not produced
at that time. He also wrote a cantata in celebration of the battle of
Leipzig, which he did not succeed in producing, and not feeling
satisfied with his position, and having various disagreements with the
management, the engagement was cancelled by mutual consent. During his
stay in Vienna Spohr was frequently in contact with Beethoven, and
though he admired that great master he criticised some of his
compositions very severely, and is said to have remarked that "Beethoven
was wanting in aesthetic culture and sense of beauty," a remark
difficult to understand in these later days. It is the more
incomprehensible from the fact that Spohr in after years was the very
first musician of eminence to interest himself in Wagner's talent, for
he brought out at Cassel "Der Fliegende Hollaender," and continued with
"Tannhaeuser," notwithstanding the opposition of the court. He considered
Wagner to be by far the greatest of all dramatic composers living at
that time. In 1815 he made a concert tour in France and Italy, during
which he met Rossini and Paganini, playing at Venice a sinfonia
concertante of his own composition, with the latter.
On his return to Germany in 1817 Spohr was appointed conductor of the
Opera at Frankfort-on-the-Main, where his opera "Faust" was now
produced, also "Zemire and Azor." Owing to difficulties with managers
again he left Frankfort after a stay of only two years, and his next
venture was a visit to England, where he appeared at the concerts of the
Philharmonic Society in London. His success was brilliant, for his
clear style and high artistic capacity, added to his reputation as a
composer, carried him into popularity, and the artistic world vied with
the public in doing honour to him. At his farewell concert, his wife
made her last appearance as a harp player, for on account of ill-health
she was obliged to give it up, and thereafter she played only the
pianoforte.
On his way home from England Spohr visited Paris for the first time, and
made the personal acquaintance of Kreutzer, Viotti, Habeneck, Cherubini,
and other eminent musicians, who received him with the greatest
cordiality. But the public did not seem to appreciate his merits, for
his quiet, unpretentious style was not quite in keeping with the taste
of the French.
On his return to Germany Spohr settled in Dresden, and remained there
until 1822, when he became Hofkapellmeister to the Elector of
Hesse-Cassel, and he remained in Cassel for the rest of his life. This
position he obtained on the advice of Weber.
In 1831 he completed his great "Violin School," which has ever since its
publication been considered a standard work. The following year the
political disturbances interfered with the opera performances at Cassel,
and caused him much annoyance. In 1834 he lost his wife, but his work of
composition proceeded with vigour.
In 1839 he again visited England, where his music had become very
popular, and during the remainder of his career he repeated his visit
several times, many of his works being produced by the various
societies.
His life at Cassel was not free from cares and friction, and he was
subjected to many indignities and annoyances by the elector. Perhaps his
sympathy with the revolutionists of 1848 was the chief cause of these
petty persecutions. When Spohr married his second wife, Marianne
Pfeiffer, the elector objected, and only gave his reluctant consent when
Spohr agreed to waive the right of his wife to a pension. All his
proposals were met with opposition. "Tannhaeuser" was produced and well
received, but a repetition of the performance was not allowed, and
"Lohengrin" was ordered to be withdrawn from rehearsal, for Wagner was
one of the revolutionists and was obliged to live in seclusion.
America is indebted to this revolution of 1848 for some excellent
musicians, for the Germania Orchestra, an organisation of young
revolutionists, sought these shores, and after a prosperous career,
begun under great trials and discouragements, the various members
settled in different cities and became identified with the musical life
of the nation.
In 1851 the elector refused to sign the permit for Spohr's two months'
leave of absence, to which he was entitled under his contract, and when
the musician departed without the permit, a portion of his salary was
deducted. In 1857 he was pensioned off, much against his own wish, and
in the winter of the same year he had the misfortune to break his arm,
an accident which put an end to his violin playing. Nevertheless he
conducted his opera "Jessonda" at the fiftieth anniversary of the Prague
Conservatorium in the following year, with all his old-time energy. In
1859 he died at Cassel.
Through all his long career Spohr had lived up to the ideal he had
conceived in his youth. He was a man of strong individuality, and
invariably maintained the dignity of his art with unflinching
independence. Even the mistakes that he made, as for instance his
criticism of Beethoven, bore the strongest testimony to his manly
straightforwardness and sincerity in word and deed. He was a most
prolific composer, leaving over two hundred works in all. His violin
concertos stand foremost among his works, and are distinguished as much
by noble and elevated ideas as by masterly thematic treatment, yet there
is a certain monotony of treatment in all, and his style and manner are
entirely his own.
As an executant Spohr stands among the greatest of all time. In slow
movements he played with a breadth and beauty of tone, and a delicacy
and refinement of expression almost unequalled. His hands were of
exceptional size and strength, and enabled him to execute the most
difficult double stops and stretches with the greatest facility. Even in
quick passages he preserved a broad, full tone, and his staccato was
brilliant and effective. He disliked the use of the "springing bow,"
which came with the modern style of playing.
Spohr had a great many pupils, of whom the best known were Ries, Ferd.
David, Blagrove, Bargheer, Koempel, and Henry Holmes. He was also
considered one of the best conductors of his time, and introduced into
England the custom of conducting with a baton.
Amongst the amusing episodes in the life of Spohr was one which took
place in London, when a servant brought him a letter desiring M. Spohr
to "be present at four o'clock to-morrow evening at the closet of the
undersigned," Spohr had not the faintest idea as to the identity of "the
undersigned," nor the least inkling of that gentleman's design. He
therefore replied that he had an engagement at that time. To this note
he received another polite epistle asking him to be good enough to
honour the "undersigned" with an interview, and to choose his own time.
He therefore made an appointment, which he kept punctually, and on
arriving at the house to which he was directed, he found an old
gentleman, who was very genial, but who could speak neither French nor
German. As Spohr spoke no English the communication between them was of
necessity carried on by pantomime. The old gentleman led the way into a
room, the walls of which were literally covered with violins, from which
Spohr gathered the idea that he was to pick out that which he considered
the best. After trying them all he had to decide between the merits of
half a dozen, and, when he finally gave his opinion, the gentleman
seemed delighted, and offered him a five pound note to compensate him
for his trouble. This the violinist declined to accept, for he had found
as much enjoyment as his host, and considered it a privilege to be able
to examine such a fine collection of beautiful instruments. The
gentleman found a way of satisfying his ideas of compensation by buying
tickets to the value of ten pounds, for one of Spohr's concerts.
Among the most talented violinists of the early part of the nineteenth
century was Karl Joseph Lipinski, the son of a Polish violin player
whose gifts were uncultivated. He was born in Poland, in 1790, at a
small town named Radzyn. After learning, with the aid of his father, to
play the violin, he took up the 'cello, and taught himself to play that
instrument, and in later days he attributed his full tone on the violin
to the power which his 'cello practice gave to his bow arm.
Lipinski seems to have been an energetic and original man. He was in the
habit of appearing at concerts both as violinist and 'cellist. He was
unable to play the piano, so when he was conductor of the opera at
Lemberg he directed with the violin, and frequently had to play two
parts, which gave him great command over his double stops. When the fame
of Paganini reached him he set forth to Italy, that he might profit by
hearing the great virtuoso, and when the opportunity came at Piacenza,
he distinguished himself by being the only person in the audience to
applaud the first adagio. After the concert he was introduced to
Paganini, and he did not fail to improve the acquaintance, frequently
visiting Paganini and playing with him, sometimes even in his concerts.
Lipinski declined the honour of going on a concert tour with Paganini,
as he wished to return to his home. On stopping at Trieste he heard of
an old man, over ninety years of age, who had once been a pupil of
Tartini, and sought him out in order to "get some points" on Tartini's
style. The old man, Doctor Mazzurana, declared himself too old to play
the violin, but suggested that if Lipinski would play a Tartini sonata
he would tell him if his style reminded him of the great master. It did
not, but Doctor Mazzurana brought out of a cupboard a volume of
Tartini's sonatas having letter-press under the music, and this Lipinski
was ordered to read in a loud tone and with all possible expression.
Then he had to play the sonata, and after numerous attempts and
corrections, the old man began to applaud his efforts. Lipinski ever
afterwards profited by these lessons.
Later on he met Paganini again at Warsaw, where they were rivals, for
the time being, and different factions waxed warm over their respective
merits. Paganini himself, who is said to have been asked whom he
considered to be the greatest violinist, replied, with conscious
modesty, "The _second_ greatest is certainly Lipinski."
Lipinski travelled throughout Europe, meeting with great success, until
in 1839 he was appointed concert-meister at the Royal Opera in Dresden,
where he remained for many years. He also organised a string quartet,
and was considered a most excellent performer of chamber-music. He wrote
a large quantity of music for the violin, but little of it was of a
lasting quality. In 1861 he was pensioned, and retired to Urlow, near
Lemberg, where he had some property, and there he died in December of
the same year.
CHAPTER IV.
PAGANINI.
The name Paganini stands for the quintessence of eccentric genius,--one
of the most remarkable types of mankind on record. Paganini was able to
excite wonder and admiration by his marvellous technical skill, or to
sway the emotions of his hearers by his musical genius, while his
peculiar habits, eccentric doings, and weird aspect caused the
superstitious to attribute his talent to the power of his Satanic
Majesty. Yet Paganini was not only mortal, but in many respects a weak
mortal, although the most extraordinary and the most renowned violinist
of the nineteenth century.
[Illustration: NICCOLO PAGANINI]
Nicolo Paganini was the son of a commercial broker, Antonio Paganini,
and was born at Genoa, February 18, 1784. He was a child of nervous and
delicate constitution, and the harsh treatment accorded to him by his
father tended to accentuate and develop the peculiarities of his
character. He was a good violinist at the age of six, and before he was
eight years of age he had outgrown, not only his father's instruction,
but also that of one Servetto, a musician at the theatre, and that of
Costa, the director of music and principal violinist to the churches of
Genoa. He had also written a sonata for violin, which was afterwards
lost. At the age of nine he appeared in his first concert, given by
Marchesi and Albertinatti in a large theatre at Genoa. At the age of
twelve he was taken to Rolla, the celebrated violinist and composer at
Parma, upon whom he made a great impression. When Paganini arrived with
his father at Rolla's house they found him ill in bed, and not at all
disposed to receive them. Whilst awaiting him, young Paganini found on
the table a copy of Rolla's last concerto, and a violin. Taking up the
violin, he played the piece off at first sight. This brought Rolla out
of bed, for he would not believe, without seeing, that such a feat could
be accomplished by so young a boy. Rolla said that he could teach him
nothing, and advised him to go to Paer, but Paer was then in Germany,
and the boy went to Ghiretti.
Although Paganini denied ever having taken lessons with Rolla, he
nevertheless had frequent discussions with him concerning the new
effects which he was continually attempting, and which did not always
meet with the unqualified approval of the older musician.
The music which he wrote for his instrument contained so many
difficulties that he had to practise unremittingly to overcome them,
often working ten or twelve hours a day and being overwhelmed with
exhaustion.
In 1797 Paganini made his first tour, with his father, through the chief
towns of Lombardy, and now he determined to release himself, on the
first opportunity, from the bondage in which he was held by his father.
This opportunity presented itself when the fete of St. Martin was
celebrated at Lucca, and after much opposition he at last obtained the
consent of his father to attend the celebration. Meeting with much
success, he went on to Pisa, and then to other places, in all of which
he was well received. Being now free from the restraint of his home he
fell into bad company, and took to gambling and other vices, the most
natural result of his father's harsh training showing itself in lack of
moral stamina.
For a time his careless life had its allurements, but the young virtuoso
was frequently reduced to great straits, and on one occasion, if not
more, pawned his violin. This happened at Leghorn, where he was to play
at a concert, and it was only through the kindness of a French merchant,
M. Livron, who lent him a beautiful Guarnieri, that he was able to
appear. When the concert was over, and Paganini brought back the
instrument, its owner was so delighted with what he had heard that he
refused to receive it. "Never will I profane strings which your fingers
have touched," he said, "the instrument is now yours." And Paganini used
that violin afterwards in all his concerts.
This violin was, some time later, the means by which he was cured of
gambling, for having been reduced to extreme poverty, he was tempted to
sell it. The price offered was a large one. At this juncture he won one
hundred and sixty francs, which saved the violin, but the mental agony
he endured through the affair convinced him that a gamester is an
object of contempt to all well regulated minds.
Paganini won another violin by his ability to read music at sight.
Pasini, an eminent painter and an amateur violinist, refused to believe
the wonderful faculty for playing at sight, which had been imputed to
Paganini, and in order to test it brought him a manuscript concerto
containing some difficulties considered as insurmountable. "This
instrument shall be yours," said Pasini, placing in his hands an
excellent Stradivari, "if you can play, in a masterly manner, this
concerto, at first sight." Paganini accepted the challenge, threw Pasini
into ecstasies, and became the owner of the instrument.
The severe course of dissipation in which Paganini indulged during these
days of his youth ruined his health, and caused him frequently to
disappear from the public gaze for long periods, throughout his career.
With the fair sex he had more than one romantic episode. At one time a
lady of high rank fell in love with him and led him captive to her
castle in Tuscany. Here the lovers solaced themselves with duets on the
guitar, and the violinist attained a proficiency, on that instrument,
equal to the expression of the tenderest passion. This adventure brought
retribution in after days, and in a most unexpected manner, for as his
genius began to excite the wonder of the world, sundry malicious stories
concerning him were invented and circulated. One of these stories was to
the effect that he had been imprisoned for stabbing one of his friends,
another rumour said that he strangled his wife, and that during his
imprisonment he had been allowed only the solace of playing his violin
with but one string. This story was told in order to account for his
wonderful one-stringed performances, and it was absolutely untrue, but
the time allotted by rumour to his supposed imprisonment coincided with
the period which was really occupied with this romance.
At the end of three years he resumed his travels and his violin playing,
returning to Genoa in 1804, where he set to work on some compositions.
At this time he became interested in a little girl, Catarina Calcagno,
to whom he gave lessons on the violin. She was then about seven years of
age, and a few years later she became well known as a concert violinist.
Paganini did not remain long in Genoa, for the following year found him
wandering again, and another love affair in Lucca led to the composition
of a piece to be played on two strings, the first and the fourth: the
first to express the sentiments of a young girl, and the fourth the
passionate language of her lover. The performance of this extremely
expressive composition was rewarded by the most languishing glances from
his lady-love in the audience, but the most important result was that
the Princess Elise Bacchiochi, sister of Napoleon, declared to him that
he had performed impossibilities. "Would not a single string suffice for
your talent?" she asked. Paganini was delighted, and shortly afterward
composed his military sonata entitled "Napoleon," which is performed on
the G string only.
At Ferrara he once nearly lost his life through unwittingly trampling
upon the susceptibilities of the people, in the following manner. It
appears that the peasantry in the suburbs of Ferrara bore ill-will
toward the citizens of that town and called them "asses." This little
pleasantry was manifested by the suburbanites in "hee-hawing" at the
citizens when fitting opportunity presented itself. Now it happened that
Paganini played at a concert, and some of the audience expressed
dissatisfaction with the singer, Madame Pallerini, and hissed her.
Paganini decided to have revenge, and when about to commence his last
solo, he amused the public by giving an imitation of the notes and cries
of various animals. The chirping of various birds, the crowing of the
chanticleer, the mewing of cats, the barking of dogs were all imitated
and the audience was delighted. Now was the time to punish the
reprobates who hissed. Paganini advanced to the footlights exclaiming,
"This for the men who hissed," and gave a vivid imitation of the braying
of an ass. Instead of exciting laughter and thus causing the confusion
of the enemy as he expected, the whole audience rose as one man, scaled
the orchestra and footlights, and swore they would have his blood.
Paganini sought safety in flight. He was eventually enlightened as to
the mistake he had made.
Once, when he was at Naples, Paganini was taken ill, and in his desire
to secure lodgings where the conditions would be favourable for his
recovery, he made a mistake and soon became worse. It was said that he
was consumptive, and consumption being considered a contagious disease,
his landlord put him out in the street, with all his possessions. Here
he was found by Ciandelli, the violoncellist, who, after giving the
landlord a practical and emphatic expression of his opinion by means of
a stick, conveyed his friend Paganini to a comfortable lodging, where he
was carefully attended until restored to health.
In 1817 Paganini was urged by Count Metternich and by Count de Kannitz,
the Austrian ambassador to Italy, to visit Vienna, but several times he
was prevented from carrying out his plans by illness, and it was not
until 1828 that he reached Vienna and gave his first concert. His
success was prodigious. "He stood before us like a miraculous apparition
in the domain of art," wrote one of the critics. The public seemed to be
intoxicated. Hats, dresses, shoes, everything bore his name. His
portrait was to be found everywhere, he was decorated and presented with
medals and honours.
He continued his tour through Germany, being received everywhere with
the utmost enthusiasm, and he visited England, after a sojourn in Paris,
in 1831.
When he reached home after an absence of six years, he was the possessor
of a considerable fortune, part of which he lost by injudicious
investments. Some friends induced him to join them in the establishment
of a casino in a fashionable locality in Paris. It was called the Casino
Paganini, and was intended to be a gambling-house. The authorities,
however, refused to grant a license, and it was found impossible to
support it by concerts only. After some vicissitudes a law-suit was
established against Paganini, who was condemned to pay fifty thousand
francs, and to be imprisoned until the amount was paid, but this
decision was not reached until Paganini was in a dying condition, and
he went, by the advice of his physicians, to Marseilles, where he
remained but a short time. Finding that his health did not improve, he
decided to pass the winter at Nice, but the progress of his ailment was
not checked, and on May 27, 1840, he expired.
By his will, made three years previously, he left an immense fortune and
the title of baron, which had been conferred on him in Germany, to his
son Achille,--the fruit of a liaison with the singer Antonia Bianchi of
Como,--whose birth had been legitimised by deeds of law. His fortune
amounted to about four hundred thousand dollars, besides which he had a
valuable collection of musical instruments. His large Guarnieri violin
he bequeathed to the town of Genoa, that no artist might possess it
after him.
During his last illness Paganini, not realising that death was so near,
devoted himself to music and to arranging for another concert tour.
During his lifetime he had never paid much attention to religion and
there were some doubts as to his belief. Although he expressed his
adherence to the Roman Church, yet he dallied with its formalities, and
when the priest visited him three days before his death to administer
the final consolations of religion, the dying man put him off on the
ground that he was not yet ready, and would send for him when the time
came. Death prevented this, and burial in consecrated ground was
therefore denied him. An appeal was made to the spiritual tribunal and
in the meantime the body was embalmed and kept in a hall in the palace
of the Conte di Cessole, whose guest he was during his last illness.
People now began to come from all parts of Italy to pay honour to the
dead artist, and this so angered the bishop and priests that an order
was obtained for the removal of the body. Under military escort the
remains of the great violinist were taken to Villafranca and placed in
a small room, which was then sealed up. And now Paganini became a terror
to the ignorant peasants and fishermen, who crossed themselves as they
hurried past the spot where the excommunicated remains lay. It was said
that in the dead of night the spectre of Paganini appeared and played
the violin outside his resting-place.
In the meantime every effort was being made to secure Christian burial.
The spiritual tribunal decided that Paganini had died a good Catholic.
The bishop refused to accept the decision, and an appeal to the
archbishop was unavailing. Eventually the case was brought before the
Pope himself by the friends of the dead man, and the Pope overruled the
decision of the archbishop and ordained that Christian burial should be
accorded to the artist. On the 21st of August, 1843, the Conte di
Cessole took away the coffin from Villafranca, and interred it in the
churchyard near Paganini's old residence at Villa Gavona, near Parma.
Thus even after death he was the victim of superstition, as he had been
during his lifetime.
Paganini resolved not to publish his compositions until after he had
ceased to travel, for he was aware that his performances would lose much
of their interest if his works were available to everybody. He seldom
carried with him the solo parts, but only the orchestral scores of the
pieces that he played. His studies were pronounced impossible by some of
the best violinists of the day, so great were the difficulties which
they contained, and in his mastery of these difficulties, which he
himself created, may be found the true secret of his success. People
accounted for it in many ways, one man declaring that he saw the devil
standing at his elbow, and others stating that he was a child of the
devil, and that he was bewitched.
His compositions are remarkable for novelty in ideas, elegance of form,
richness of harmony, and variety in the effects of instrumentation. Few
compositions ever attained such fame as the "Streghe," of which the
theme was taken from the music of Suessmayer to the ballet of "Il Noce di
Benevento."
While it may be readily admitted that many of the effects with which
Paganini dazzled the multitude were tainted with charlatanism, yet the
fact remains that no one ever equalled him in surmounting difficulties,
and it is doubtful if, among all the excellent violinists of the present
day, any of them compares with that remarkable man.
Some of his studies have been adapted to the pianoforte by Schumann and
by Liszt, and of the collection arranged by Liszt, consisting of five
numbers from the Caprices, Schumann says: "It must be highly interesting
to find the compositions of the greatest violin virtuoso of this
century in regard to bold bravura--Paganini--illustrated by the boldest
of modern pianoforte virtuosi--Liszt." This collection is probably the
most difficult ever written for the pianoforte, as its original is the
most difficult work that exists for the violin. Paganini knew this well,
and expressed it in his short dedication, "Agli Artisti," that is to
say, "I am only accessible to artists."
It is doubtful whether any violinist ever lived concerning whom more
fantastic stories were told. His gruesome aspect, his frequent
disappearances from public life, his peculiar habits, all tended to make
him an object of interest,--and interest is sometimes shown in eagerness
to hear anything at all about the subject.
He enjoyed conversation when he was in the company of a small circle of
friends. He was cheerful at evening parties,--if music was not
mentioned. He had an excellent memory for features and names of persons
whom he had met, but it is said that he never remembered the names of
towns at which he had given concerts. He was very severe with
orchestras, and any mistakes made by them would bring forth a tempest of
rage, though satisfactory work would be rewarded with expressions of
approval. When he came to a pause for the introduction of a cadenza, at
rehearsal, the musicians would frequently rise, eager to watch his
performance, but Paganini would merely play a few notes, and then
stopping suddenly would smile and say, "Et cetera, messieurs!" and
reserve his strength for the public performance.
His peculiarities were shown strongly in his arrangements for personal
comfort while travelling, for his constant suffering precluded the
enjoyment of the beauties of nature. He was always cold, and even in
summer kept a large cloak wrapped around him, and the windows of the
carriage carefully closed. Before starting he took merely a basin of
soup or a cup of chocolate, and though he frequently remained nearly the
whole day without further refreshment, he slept a great deal and thus
escaped some of the pain which the jolting of the carriage caused him.
His luggage consisted of a small dilapidated trunk, which contained his
violin, his jewels, his money, and a few fine linen articles. Besides
this he had only a hat-case and a carpet-bag, and frequently a napkin
would contain his entire wardrobe. In a small red pocketbook he kept his
accounts and his papers, which represented an immense value, and nobody
but himself could decipher the hieroglyphics which indicated his
expenses and receipts. He cared not whether his apartment, at the inns
on the road, was elegantly furnished or a mere garret, but he always
kept the windows open in order to get an "air-bath," contrary to his
custom while in a carriage.
While the secret of Paganini's marvellous technique was incessant hard
work, to which he was urged not less by his own ambition than by his
father's cruelty, yet in later years he seldom practised, and his
playing was chiefly confined to his concerts and rehearsals. There are
several good stories dealing with this peculiarity. One man is said to
have followed him around for months, taking the adjoining room at
hotels, in order to find the secret of his success by hearing him
practise. Once, when looking through the keyhole, he saw the virtuoso go
to the violin case, take out the instrument, and after seeing that it
was in tune,--put it back again.
Sir Charles Halle tells about seeing Paganini in Paris, where he used to
spend an hour every day sitting in a publisher's shop, "a striking,
awe-inspiring, ghostlike figure." Halle was introduced to him, but
conversation was difficult, for Paganini sat there taciturn, rigid,
hardly ever moving a muscle of his face. He made the young pianist play
for him frequently, indicating his desire by pointing at the piano with
his long, bony hand, without speaking. Halle was dying to hear the great
violinist play, and one day, after they had enjoyed a long silence,
Paganini rose and went to his violin case. He took the violin out, and
began to tune it carefully with his fingers, without using the bow.
Halle's agitation was becoming intolerable, for he thought that the
moment had arrived at which his desire was to be gratified. But when
Paganini had satisfied himself that his violin was all right, he
carefully put it back in the case and shut it up.
Paganini was notoriously parsimonious, and it was related that one
evening in Florence he left his hotel rather late, jumped into a coach
and ordered the man to drive him to the theatre. The distance was short,
but he felt that it would not do to keep the public waiting. He was to
play the prayer from "Moses" on one string. On arrival at the theatre he
asked the driver, "How much?" "For you," replied the Jehu, "ten francs."
"What? Ten francs? You joke," replied the virtuoso. "It is only the
price of a ticket to your concert," was the excuse. Paganini hesitated a
moment, and then handed to the man what he considered to be a fair
remuneration, saying, "I will pay you ten francs when you drive me on
one wheel."
At one time Paganini astonished the world by making to Hector Berlioz
the magnificent present of twenty thousand francs. Berlioz was at that
time almost in a state of despair. His compositions were not
appreciated, and he was at a loss to know which way to turn. He made a
final effort and gave a last concert, at which Paganini was present and
congratulated him.
Jules Janin, the celebrated critic and writer, went into ecstasies over
the affair. Paganini, he said, who had been attacked for
hard-heartedness and avarice, was present at the concert, and at the end
prostrated himself before Berlioz, and shed tears. Hope returned and
Berlioz went home in triumph, for he had satisfied one great musical
critic. The next day he received a note from Paganini enclosing twenty
thousand francs, to be devoted to three years of repose, study, liberty,
and happiness.
In Sir Charles Halle's biography, however, this story receives important
modifications. It appears that Armand Bertin, the wealthy proprietor of
the _Journal des Debates_, had a high regard for Berlioz, who was on his
staff, and knew of his struggles, which he was anxious to lighten. He
resolved, therefore, to make him a present of twenty thousand francs,
and to enhance the moral effect of this gift he persuaded Paganini to
appear as the donor of the money. What would have appeared as a simple
gratuity from a rich and powerful editor toward one of his staff, became
a significant tribute from one genius to another. The secret was well
kept and was never divulged to Berlioz. It was known only to two of
Bertin's friends, and Halle learned it about seven years later, when he
had become an intimate friend of Madame Bertin, and she had been for
years one of his best pupils.
Paganini created the difficulties which he performed. He had a style of
his own, and was most successful in playing his own compositions. In
Paris, when, out of respect to the Parisians, he played a concerto by
Rode, and one by Kreutzer, he scarcely rose above mediocrity, and he was
well aware of his failure. He adopted the ideas of his predecessors,
resuscitated forgotten effects and added to them, and the chief features
of his performance were, the diversity of tones produced, the different
methods of tuning his instrument, the frequent employment of double and
single harmonics, the simultaneous use of pizzicato and bow passages,
the use of double and triple notes, the various staccati, and a
wonderful facility for executing wide intervals with unerring accuracy,
together with a great variety of styles of bowing. The quality of tone
which he produced was clear and pure, but not excessively full, and,
according to Fetis, he was a master of technique and phrasing rather
than a pathetic player,--there was no tenderness in his accents.
It is said that Baillot used to hide his face when Paganini played a
pizzicato with the left hand, harmonics, or a passage in staccato.
Dancla, in his recollections, says: "I had noticed in Paganini his
large, dry hand, of an astonishing elasticity; his fingers long and
pointed, which enabled him to make enormous stretches, and double and
triple extensions, with the utmost facility. The double and triple
harmonics, the successions of harmonics in thirds and sixths, so
difficult for small hands, owing to the stretch they require, were to
him as child's play. When playing an accentuated pizzicato with the left
hand, while the melody was played by the hand of the bow, the fourth
finger pinched the string with prodigious power even when the other
three fingers were placed."
There are anecdotes told of Paganini's artistic contests with rival
violinists, chief among whom were Lafont and Lipinski, both of whom he
eclipsed, and of his playing a concerto in manuscript at sight, with the
music upside down on the rack.
Of his appearance we are told, in an account of a concert in London: "A
tall, haggard figure, with long, black hair, strangely falling down to
his shoulders, slid forward like a spectral apparition. There was
something awful, unearthly in that countenance; but his play! our pen
seems involuntarily to evade the difficult task of giving utterance to
sensations which are beyond the reach of language." After detailing the
performance, the account continues: "These excellencies consist in the
combination of absolute mechanical perfection of every imaginable kind,
perfection hitherto unknown and unthought of, with the higher attributes
of the human mind, inseparable from eminence in the fine arts,
intellectual superiority, sensibility, deep feeling, poesy, genius."
In regard to this accomplishment of playing on one string, a critic
said: "To effect so much on a single string is truly wonderful;
nevertheless any good player can extract more from two than from one. If
Paganini really produces so much effect on a single string, he would
certainly obtain more from two. Then why not employ them? We answer,
because he is waxing exceedingly wealthy by playing on one." Paganini
seems to have reasoned from the opposite point, viz., that if the
retention of two strings be regarded with such wonder, how much greater
the marvel will be if only one is used.
To offset these suggestions of charlatanism, or perhaps rather to show
that, with all his charlatanism, Paganini was a marvel, we may see what
effect his playing had upon some men who were not likely to be caught by
mere trickery. Rossini, upon being asked how he liked Paganini, replied:
"I have wept but three times in my life; the first, on the failure of my
earliest opera; the second time, when, in a boat with some friends, a
turkey stuffed with truffles fell overboard; and thirdly, when I heard
Paganini play for the first time."
Spohr, after hearing him play, in 1830, said: "Paganini came to Cassel
and gave two concerts, which I heard with great interest. His left hand
and his constantly pure intonation were, to me, astonishing; but in his
compositions and his execution I found a strange mixture of the highly
genial and the childishly tasteless, by which one felt alternately
charmed and disappointed."
George Hogarth, the musical critic, writes about Paganini's "running up
and down a single string, from the nut to the bridge, for ten minutes
together, or playing with the bow and the fingers of his right hand,
mingling pizzicato and arcato notes with the dexterity of an Indian
juggler." It was not, however, by such tricks as these, but in spite of
them, that he gained the suffrages of those who were charmed by his
truly great qualities,--his soul of fire, his boundless fancy, his
energy, tenderness, and passion; these are the qualities which give him
a claim to a place among the greatest masters of the art.
Perhaps the finest description of Paganini is the one written by Leigh
Hunt:
"So play'd of late to every passing thought
With finest change (might I but half as well
So write) the pale magician of the bow,
Who brought from Italy the tales, made true,
Of Grecian lyres; and on his sphery hand,
Loading the air with dumb expectancy,
Suspended, ere it fell, a nation's breath;
"Of witches' dance, ghastly with whinings thin,
And palsied nods--mirth, wicked, sad, and weak;
And then with show of skill mechanical,
Marvellous as witchcraft he would overthrow
That vision with a show'r of notes like hail;
Flashing the sharp tones now,
In downward leaps like swords; now rising fine
Into some utmost tip of minute sound,
From whence he stepp'd into a higher and higher
On viewless points, till laugh took leave of him.
"Then from one chord of his amazing shell
Would he fetch out the voice of quires, and weight
Of the built organ; or some twofold strain
Moving before him like some sweet-going yoke,
Ride like an Eastern conqueror, round whose state
Some light Morisco leaps with his guitar;
And e |
