Famous Violinists of To-day and Yesterday Part 4

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 const.i.tution, 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 princ.i.p.al 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, p.a.w.ned 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 ma.n.u.script 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 s.e.x 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 pa.s.sion. 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 pa.s.sionate language of her lover. The performance of this extremely expressive composition was rewarded by the most languis.h.i.+ng 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 ent.i.tled "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 "a.s.ses." 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 a.s.s. 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 amba.s.sador 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 fas.h.i.+onable 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 Ma.r.s.eilles, where he remained but a short time. Finding that his health did not improve, he decided to pa.s.s 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 t.i.tle 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 superst.i.tion, 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 p.r.o.nounced 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 Sussmayer to the ballet of "Il Noce di Benevento."

While it may be readily admitted that many of the effects with which Paganini dazzled the mult.i.tude 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--ill.u.s.trated 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 n.o.body 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 pa.s.sages, 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 pa.s.sage in staccato.

Dancla, in his recollections, says: "I had noticed in Paganini his large, dry hand, of an astonis.h.i.+ng 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 ma.n.u.script 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 Ca.s.sel and gave two concerts, which I heard with great interest. His left hand and his constantly pure intonation were, to me, astonis.h.i.+ng; 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 pa.s.sion; 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 pa.s.sing 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; Flas.h.i.+ng 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.