The Violin Part 4

and placed himself for another year under that excellent and worthy master; at the end of which period, so intense had been his application, that he played with a degree of certainty and expression truly wonderful.

On a certain occasion, in recommending a scholar to him, after his return to Rome, Tartini expressed his sense of Bini's powers and character, and gave evidence of his own modest and ingenuous disposition, in the following words:-"Io lo mando a un mio scolare chi suona piu di me; e me ne glorio, per essere un angelo di costume, e religioso."-"I recommend him (the applicant) to a scholar of mine, who plays better than myself; and I am proud of it, as he is an angel in religion and morals." Such praise has its value enhanced by the source whence it proceeds; for it was truly "laudari a laudato viro."

The death of Tartini occurred at Padua, on the 26th of February, 1770, to the general regret of the people of that city, where he had resided nearly fifty years, and not only was regarded as its most attractive ornament, but, owing to the serious and contemplative turn of his mind, had attained the estimation of being a saint and a philosopher.

Of the general character of Tartini's compositions, Dr. Burney, who appears to have studied them closely, has given the following judgment:-"Though he made Corelli his model in the purity of his harmony and simplicity of his modulation, he greatly surpa.s.sed that composer in the fertility and originality of his invention; not only in the subjects of his melodies, but in the truly _cantabile_ manner of treating them.

Many of his adagios want nothing but _words_, to be excellent pathetic opera-songs. His allegros are sometimes difficult; but the pa.s.sages fairly belong to the instrument for which they were composed, and were suggested by his consummate knowledge of the finger-board, and the powers of the bow. As a harmonist, he was perhaps more truly scientific than any other composer of his time, in the clearness, character and precision of his bases, which were never casual, or the effect of habit or auricular prejudice and expectation, but learned, judicious and certain. And yet I must, in justice to others, own that, though the adagio and solo playing, in general, of his scholars are exquisitely polished and expressive, yet it seems as if that energy, fire, and freedom of bow, which modern symphonies and orchestra-playing require, were wanting."

The applicability of the latter remark is, of course, considerably greater in these days than in the Doctor's time. Another and more recent critical opinion is subjoined:-

"Tartini's compositions, with all the correctness and polish of Corelli's, are bolder and more impa.s.sioned. His slow movements, in particular, are remarkably vocal and expressive; and his music shows a knowledge of the violin, both in regard to the bow and the finger-board, which Corelli had not been able to attain. His works, therefore, though no longer heard in public, are still prized by the best musicians; a proof of which is, that some of them have been recently reprinted for the use of the _Conservatoire_ of Paris. He has frequently injured their effect, to modern ears, by the introduction of trills and other ornaments, which, like the flounces and furbelows of the female dress of his day, have become old-fashioned; but, at the same time, his compositions are full of beauties, which, belonging to the musical language of nature and feeling, are independent of the influence of time."

Few of my readers have failed, probably, to hear or read of "The Devil's Sonata," that forms so singular a "pa.s.sage" in the experience of this remarkable man, and is to be met with in Records, Musical, Literary, and Pictorial. Monsieur De Lalande informs us that he had, from Tartini's own mouth, the following singular anecdote, which conveys an account of it, and shows to what a degree his imagination was inflamed by the genius of composition. "He dreamed, one night, in the year 1713, that he had made a compact with the Devil, who promised to be at his service on all occasions; and, during this vision, every thing succeeded according to his mind; his wishes were antic.i.p.ated, and his desires always surpa.s.sed, by the a.s.sistance of his new servant. At length, he imagined that he presented to the Devil 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, and executed with such superior taste and precision, that it surpa.s.sed 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, as to deprive him of the power of breathing. He awoke with the violence of his sensations, and instantly seized his instrument, in hopes of expressing what he had just heard; but in vain. He, however, then composed a piece, which is, perhaps, the best of all his works, and called it the _Devil's Sonata_; but it was so inferior to what his sleep had produced, that he declared he would have broken his instrument, and abandoned music for ever, if he could have subsisted by any other means."

This remarkable legend, under its obvious a.s.sociations with the fearful and the grotesque, is so inviting for poetic treatment, that I have ventured on the following attempt:-

TARTINI'S DREAM.

Grim-visag'd Satan on the Artist's bed Sat-and a cloud of sounds mirific spread!

Wild flow'd those notes, as from enchantment's range, "Wild, sweet, but incommunicably strange!"

Soft Luna, curious, as her s.e.x beseems, Shot through the cas.e.m.e.nt her enquiring beams, Which, entering, paler grew, yet half illum'd The shade so deep that round the Arch-One gloomed: And listening Night her pinions furled-for lo!

The Devil's Soul, O![27] breathed beneath that bow!

Tranquil as death Tartini's form reclin'd, And sealing sleep was strong his eyes to bind; But the wild music of the nether spheres Was in a key that did unlock his ears.

Squat, like a toad or tailor, sat the Fiend, And forward, to his task, his body leaned.

His griffin fingers, with their h.o.r.n.y ends, Hammer the stops; the bow submissive bends: His lengthy chin, descending, forms a vice With his sharp collar-bone, contrariwise, To grasp the conscious instrument, held on With 'scapeless gripe;-and, ever and anon, As flows the strain, now quaint, and now sublime, He marks, with beatings of his tail, the time!

Snakes gird his head; but, in that music's bliss, Enchanted, lose the discord of their hiss, And twine in chords harmonic, though all mute, As if they owned the sway of Orpheus' lute.

Satan hath joy-for round his lips awhile Creeps a sharp-set, sulphuric-acid smile;

And, at the mystic notes, successive sped, Pleas'd, winketh he those eyes of flickering red, And shakes the grizzly horrors of that head!

List! what a change! Soft wailings fill the air: Plaintive and touching grows the demon-play'r.

Doth Satan mourn, with meltings all too late, The sin and sorrow of his own sad state?

Night flies-the dream is past-and, pale and wan, Starts from his spell-freed couch the anxious man.

Is it a marvel greater than his might, Those winged sounds to summon back from flight?

To clutch them _whole_, in vain fond Hope inclin'd, For Memory, overburthen'd, lagged behind, Partly the strain fell 'neath Oblivion's pall, But it had partly "an _un_-dying fall;"

And, in that state defective, to the light Brought forth-it lives-a relic of that night!

The next name for notice, in connexion with the Italian School of the instrument, is that of

FRANCESCO MARIA VERACINI (the younger), a great, but somewhat eccentric performer, who was born at Florence, at the close of the 17th century. Unlike his contemporary, Tartini, whose sensitive and modest disposition led him to court obscurity, Veracini was vain, ostentatious, and haughty. Various stories have been current in Italy about his arrogance and fantastic tricks, which obtained for him the designation of _Capo pazzo_. The following anecdote is sufficiently characteristic of him.

Being at Lucca at the time of the annual "Festa della Croce," on which occasion it was customary for the princ.i.p.al professors of Italy, vocal and instrumental, to meet, Veracini put down his name for a Solo Concerto. When he entered the choir, to take possession of the princ.i.p.al place, he found it already occupied by the Padre Girolamo Laurenti,[28]

of Bologna, who, not knowing him, as he had been some years absent, asked him whither he was going? "To the place of first violin," was the impetuous answer. Laurenti then explained that _he_ had been always engaged to fill that post himself; but that if he wished to play a concerto, either at vespers or during high ma.s.s, he should have a place a.s.signed to him. Veracini turned on his heel with contempt, and went to the lowest place in the orchestra. When he was called upon to play his concerto, he desired that the h.o.a.ry old father would allow him, instead of it, to play a solo at the bottom of the choir, accompanied on the violoncello by Lanzetti. He played this in so brilliant and masterly a manner as to extort an _e viva!_ in the public church; and, whenever he was about to make a close, he turned to Laurenti, and called out, _Cos si suona per fare il primo violino_-"This is the way to play the first fiddle!"

Another characteristic story respecting this performer is the following:-

Pisendel, a native of Carlsburg, and one of the best violinists of the early part of the eighteenth century, piqued at the pride and hauteur of Veracini, who thought too highly of his own powers not to disdain a comparison of them with those of any performer then existing, determined, if possible, to mortify his conceit and self-consequence.

For this purpose, while both were at Dresden, he composed a very difficult concerto, and engaged a _ripienist_, or inferior performer, to practise it till he had conceived the whole, and rendered the most intricate pa.s.sages as familiar to his bow and finger as the more obvious and easy parts of the composition. He then took occasion, the pract.i.tioner being present, to request Veracini to perform it. The great executant condescended to comply; but did not get through the task without calling into requisition all his powers. When he had concluded, the _ripienist_, agreeably to his previous instructions, stepped up to the desk, and began to perform the same piece; upon which Veracini, in a pa.s.sion, tore him away, and would have punished on the spot his perilous presumption, had not Pisendel actively interfered, and persuaded him, were it only for the jest of the thing, to "let the vain creature expose himself." Veracini became pacified, the ripienist began again, and executed the whole even more perfectly than his precursor, who stamped on the floor with rage, swore he would never forgive Pisendel, and, scarcely less abashed than tormented, immediately quitted Dresden.

Veracini would give lessons to no one, except a nephew, who died young.

The only master he himself had was his uncle, Antonio Veracini, of Florence; but, by travelling all over Europe, he formed a style of playing peculiar to himself. Besides being in the service of the King of Poland, he was for a considerable time at the various courts of Germany, and twice in England, where he composed several _operas_, and where Dr.

Burney had the opportunity of witnessing and commenting on the bold and masterly character of his violin performance. Soon after his being here (about 1745), he was shipwrecked, and lost his two famous Steiner violins, reputed the best in the world, and all his effects. In his usual light style of discourse, he used to call one of these instruments St. Peter, and the other St. Paul.

As a composer, he had certainly a great share of whim and caprice; but he built his freaks on a good foundation, being an excellent contrapuntist; and indeed it is probable enough that these very freaks, if tested by a contact with some of the fiddle _capriccios_ and _pots-pourris_ of our own day, would fall very much in the measure of extravagance, and leave us to wonder at what const.i.tuted a wonder in the more sober musical times of Burney and Hawkins. The peculiarities in his performance were his bow-hand, his shake, his learned arpeggios, and a tone so loud and clear that it could be distinctly heard through the most numerous band of a church or theatre[29].

PIETRO NARDINI, a noted Tuscan Violinist, was born at Leghorn, in 1725.

Instructed by Tartini, he soon became his most distinguished pupil;-nor as such only was he regarded by that great master, who, besides loving and admiring his rising genius, found in him a congeniality of character and sentiment, that served to establish a firm mutual friendship. In this instance, as in that of his other favourite pupil, Bini, we may remark the exemption of Tartini's mind from that sordid spot of jealousy, that too often dims the l.u.s.tre of professional talent.

Attached, in 1763, to the Chapel of the Duke of Wirtemberg, Nardini soon evinced abilities that made him conspicuous. On the reduction or suppression of that establishment, a few years afterwards, he returned to Leghorn, where he composed almost all his works. In 1769, he went to Padua, to revisit Tartini, whom he attended in his last illness, with attachment truly filial. On his return to Leghorn, the generous offers of the Grand Duke of Tuscany determined him to quit that city, and enter the Duke's service. Joseph the Second, when he visited Italy, was greatly struck with the execution of this distinguished virtuoso, and made a curious gold snuff-box the memorial of his admiration. In 1783, the president, Dupaty, being in Italy, listened to him with a rapture which occasioned his exclaiming, "His violin is a voice, or possesses one. It has made the fibres of my ear to tremulate as they never did before. To what a degree of tenuity Nardini divides the air! How exquisitely he touches the strings of his instrument! With what art he modulates and purifies their tones!"

Michael Kelly makes reference to this distinguished artist, in speaking of a private concert at Florence. "There," observes he, "I had the gratification of hearing a sonata on the violin played by the great Nardini. Though very far advanced in years, he played divinely. He spoke with great affection of his favourite scholar, Thomas Linley, who, he said, possessed powerful abilities."-Kelly adds, that Nardini, when appealed to on that occasion, as to the truth of the anecdote about Tartini and the Devil's Sonata, gave distinct confirmation of it, as a thing he had frequently heard the relation of from Tartini himself.

Like some other masters of the old school, Nardini exhibited his powers to most advantage in the performance of _adagios_; and a high tribute to his capacity for expression is conveyed in what has been recorded of the magic of his bow-that it elicited sounds, which, when the performer was concealed from view, appeared rather those of the human voice than of a violin. Of his Sonatas, now almost consigned to oblivion, the style is ably sustained, the ideas are clear, the motive well treated, and the expression natural, though of a serious cast, as was the character of the composer.

Nardini died at Florence, in 1796, or, according to others, in 1793.

Among the compositions of this pupil of Tartini, are to be reckoned six concertos for the violin; six solos for the same instrument (opera seconda); six trios for the flute; six other solos for the violin; six quartetts, six duetts; and, in ma.n.u.script, many concertos for the same instrument.

LUIGI BOCCHERINI, a composer of distinguished talents, to whom, and to Corelli, stands a.s.signed the honour of being considered the fathers of _chamber-music_ for stringed instruments, was a native of Lucca, and born in the year 1740. His first lessons in music and on the violoncello were imparted by the Abbate Vanucci. His disposition for music was early and strong; and his father, himself an ingenious musician, after attending with care to the cultivation of his son's talent, sent him to Rome, where he soon acquired a high reputation for the originality and variety of his productions. Returning, a few years afterwards, to Lucca, he gave there the first public performance of his Sonatas. It chanced that another Lucchese, Manfredi, a pupil of Nardini's, was also present at the time of Boccherini's return from Rome; and they executed together, with great public success, the Sonatas of the latter for violin and violoncello-his seventh work. The two professors, becoming further a.s.sociated in friendship, as well as in the musical art, quitted Italy together for Spain, where they met with such encouragement as determined Boccherini to establish himself in that country. Basking in the sunshine of royal favour, the only condition required of Boccherini for the continuance of its rays, was that he should work enough to produce, annually, nine pieces of his composition, for the use of the Royal Academy at Madrid; and he adhered faithfully to the engagement. He appears to have pa.s.sed through life smoothly, as well as with honour.

His death occurred at Madrid, in 1806, at the age of 66.

The compositions of this master, which have been of marked importance in connection with the progress of stringed instruments, are characterized by a n.o.ble sweetness, a genuine pathos, deep science and great nicety of art. It belongs to him, as a distinction, to have first fixed (about 1768) the character of three several cla.s.ses of instrumental composition-the _trio_, the _quartett_, and the _quintett_. In the trio, he was followed by Fiorillo, Cramer, Giardini, Pugnani, and Viotti; and in the quartett, by Giardini, Cambini, Pugnani, and, in another style, by Pleyel, Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven; while, in his quintetts for _two_ violoncellos, he may be said to have no successor but Onslow. His productions of this last species, of which he has left no fewer than ninety-three-for he was little inferior to Haydn in fecundity of genius-are particularly deserving of study; and it was the remark of Dr.

Burney, that he had supplied the performers on bowed instruments, and the lovers of music in general, with more excellent compositions than any other master belonging to that time, except Haydn. His manner, as the same writer adds, "is at once bold, masterly and elegant; and there are movements in his works of every style, and in the true genius of the instruments for which he wrote, that place him high in rank among the greatest masters who have ever written for the violin or violoncello."

"As in the symphonies of Haydn," says a writer in the _Harmonicon_, "so in the quintetts of Boccherini, we observe the genuine stamp of genius, differing in the manner, but alike in the essence. Boccherini had studied, profoundly and thoroughly, the nature and capabilities of the _violoncello_. He composed nearly the whole of his music for this instrument, and was the first who wrote quintetts for two violoncellos.

Striving to impart to these productions the sweet, pathetic, and, if the expression may be allowed, the religious character which distinguished most of his works, he conceived the idea of giving the _leading_ part to the _violoncello_, and of throwing the harmony into the violin, alto and ba.s.s; the second violoncello, in the mean time, sometimes accompanying the first, and occasionally playing the air in concert with it."

The beautiful style of his quintetts, and the exquisite manner in which, in some of them, he has thus combined the two violoncellos, constrained an impa.s.sioned amateur to compare them to the music of the angels.

Boccherini's first work was published at Paris, where it excited the highest admiration: his _Stabat Mater_ is worthy of being placed by the side of that of Pergolesi, of Durante, or of Haydn; and to his genius for composition he added so much executive skill on the violin, violoncello and pianoforte, that a musical enthusiast said (with a rapture probably too honest to be regarded as altogether profane), "If G.o.d chose to speak to man, he would employ the music of Haydn; but, if he desired to hear an earthly musician, he would select Boccherini:"-and Puppo, the celebrated violinist, has described him thus:-"The tender Boccherini is the softer second self of Haydn." It is said, indeed, that Boccherini kept up a regular correspondence with Haydn,-these two great musicians endeavouring to enlighten each other respecting their compositions.

FELICI GIARDINI, by the novel powers and grace of his execution, appears to have made, in England, almost as great a sensation as that created, eighty years later, by Paganini, with whom, also, he may be placed in compet.i.tion, on the score of a capricious and difficult temper. He was born at Turin, in 1716; his musical education was received, at Milan, under Paladini, and subsequently, for the violin in particular, at Turin, under Somis, one of the best scholars of Corelli. At the age of 17, animated by the hope of fame, he went to Rome, and afterwards to Naples. At the latter city, he obtained, by the recommendation of Jomelli, a post far too humble for his large ambition-that of one of the _ripieni_, or make-weights, in the opera orchestra. Here his talents, nevertheless, began to appear, and he was accustomed to flourish and change pa.s.sages, much more frequently than he ought to have done.

"However," said he himself, in relating the circ.u.mstance to Dr. Burney, "I acquired great reputation among the ignorant for my impertinence; till, one night, during the opera, Jomelli, who had composed it, came into the orchestra, and seated himself close by me, when I determined to give the _Maestro di Capella_ a touch of my taste and execution. In the symphony of the next song, which was in a pathetic style, I gave loose to my fingers and fancy; for which I was rewarded by the composer with-a violent slap in the face; which (added Giardini) was the best lesson I ever received from a great master in my life." Jomelli, after this, was very kind, in a different and less indirect way, to this young and wonderful musician.

After a short continuance at Naples, followed by visits professional to the princ.i.p.al theatres in Italy, and by an enthusiastic reception at Berlin, Giardini came to England, and arrived in London in the year 1750. Here his performance on the violin, in which, at that time, he was considered to excel every other master in Europe, was heard, both in public and in private, with the most rapturous applause. His first public performance in London afforded a scene memorable among the triumphs of art. It was at a benefit Concert for old Cuzzoni, who sang in it with a thin, cracked voice, which almost frightened out of the little Theatre in the Haymarket the sons of those who had, perhaps, heard her, at the Great Theatre of the same street, with ecstacy supreme. But when Giardini came forward, and made a display of his powers in a solo and concerto, the applause was so long, loud and furious, as nothing but that bestowed on Garrick had probably ever equalled. His tone, bowing, execution, and graceful carriage of himself and his instrument, formed a combination that filled with astonishment the English public, unaccustomed to hear better performers than Festing, Brown and Collett.

Such was the estimation accruing to Giardini from his talents, that, in 1754, he was placed at the head of the opera orchestra. Two years afterwards, he joined the female singer Mingotti in attempting that labyrinth of disaster, the management of the Italian Opera; but, although they acquired much fame, their management was not attended with success. During this time, Giardini composed several of the dramas that were performed. In leading the Opera band, he had the merit of introducing improved discipline, and a new style of playing, much finer in itself, and more congenial with the poetry and music of Italy, than the level and languid manner of his predecessor, Festing, who had succeeded Castrucci (Hogarth's "Enraged Musician"), and had since, with inadequate powers, continued to maintain the post, with the exception of one or two seasons, during which Veracini had been in the ascendant.

Fashion, in the folly of its excess, has not often been seen to cut so extravagant a figure as on the occasion of the a.s.sociated performances in private by Giardini and Mingotti, during the "high and palmy state"

of their credit. The absolutism of Mrs. Fox Lane (afterwards Lady Bingley) over the fashionable world, as the enthusiastic patroness of these two artists, is a thing that satire might feast on. Rank, wealth, manhood, and beauty, prostrate before the domination of this "pollens matrona," were content (lest, forsooth! they should have "argued themselves unknown") to pay tax and tribute to her two favourites, and take a pa.s.sport to the notice of "the town," in the shape of a benefit-ticket. At such scenes, it is not using too strong a figure to say that Folly must have clapped her hands, displayed her broadest grin, and given an extra jingle to the bells on her cap. To all who reflect, it scarcely needs to be observed that the false raptures and artificial stimulus, belonging to a system like this, are nearly as injurious as they are absurd; that to pamper thus the artist, is not only to spoil him, but to injure the interests of the art, by making it the object of popular ridicule or disgust.

The contrast afforded by the close of Giardini's career with the brilliancy of its middle course, makes one think of Johnson's bitter a.s.sociation of "the patron and the jail." Those were, truly, the days when patronage was a thing of rank luxuriance, that sometimes overgrew and choked the flowers of genius to which it fastened itself. The case is now, happily, become somewhat different-the free and fostering breath of general opinion being the air in which talent has learned to seek and attain its full growth; and a more limited resort being had to the forcing influence of the aristocratic temperature.[30]

The losses that Giardini had sustained on that ready road to ruin, the Italian Opera, drove him back to the resources of his own particular talent; and he entered upon the occupation of teaching in families of rank and fashion, at the same time continuing unrivalled as a leader, a solo-player, and a composer for his favourite instrument.

Mr. Gardiner, of Leicester, has made the following record concerning him, in his "_Music and Friends_," on the occasion of a concert at the above town, in 1774:-"There I heard the full and prolonged tones of Giardini's violin. He played a concerto, in which he introduced the then popular air "Come, haste to the wedding," which moved the audience to a state of ecstacy, but now would disgust every one by its vulgarity. He was a fine-figured man, superbly dressed in green and gold; the breadth of the lace upon his coat, with the three large gold b.u.t.tons on the sleeve, made a rich appearance, which still glitters on my imagination."

Giardini resided in England until the year 1784, when he went to Naples, under the protection and patronage of Sir William Hamilton. There he continued five years, and then returned to this country; but his reception was not what it had formerly been. Fashion is a G.o.ddess of so gay a turn as cannot a.s.sort with infirmity; and an old favourite is but too likely to find that favour easily gets a divorce from age. The health of the Italian was greatly impaired, and sinking fast under a confirmed dropsy. With a dimmer eye, a feebler hand, and doubtless an aching heart, he found himself still doomed to the prosecution of his calling, when all his former excellence was lost. Instead of _leading_ in all the most difficult parts, he now played in public only the tenor in quartetts that he had recently composed. After attempting, unsuccessfully, a burletta opera at the little Theatre in the Haymarket, he was at length (in 1793) induced to go to St. Petersburgh, and afterwards to Moscow, with his burletta performers. The most cruel disappointment, however, attended him in each of these cities; in the latter of which, he died, at the age of 80, in a state (as far as it could be discovered) of poverty and wretchedness.