Among the Great Masters of Music Part 2

Warned in time, Tartini fled to Rome, leaving his young wife in Padua without confiding to her the direction of his travels.

Reaching a.s.sisi, he ran across a monk in whom he recognised a near relation from his native city of Pirano. This good-natured brother, who was a sacristan in the monastery at a.s.sisi, took pity on the refugee, and gave him an asylum in one of the cells. This is the time, and this is the cell in which the accompanying picture represents our hero. Two years he pa.s.sed in this monastery, making use of his involuntary seclusion to carry on with great zeal his musical studies.

The story of Tartini's dream, and his motive for writing the "Devil's Sonata" is told in various ways and with many additions. Tartini told the tale himself to the astronomer Lalande, who relates it in the following manner in his "Italian Travels." "One night in the year 1713," said Tartini, "I dreamed that I had made a compact with the Devil, and that he stood at my command. Everything thrived according to my wish, and whatever I desired or longed for was immediately realised through the officiousness of my new va.s.sal. A fancy seized me to give him my violin to see if he could, perchance, play some beautiful melodies for me. How surprised I was to hear a sonata, so beautiful and singular, rendered in such an intelligent and masterly manner as I had never heard before. Astonishment and rapture overcame me so completely that I swooned away. On returning to consciousness, I hastily took up my violin, hoping to be able to play at least a part of what I had heard, but in vain. The sonata I composed at that time was certainly my best, and I still call it the 'Devil's Sonata,' but this composition is so far beneath the one I heard in my dream, that I would have broken my violin and given up music altogether, had I been able to live without it." The Paris Conservatory Library owns the ma.n.u.script of the "Devil's Sonata," which was published many years later (in 1805), under the t.i.tle of "Il Trillo del Diavolo." This sonata has become one of the show-pieces of leading violinists, such as Joachim, Laub, and others. One writer speaks of it as a "piece in which a series of double shakes, and the satanic laugh with which it concludes, are so dear to lovers of descriptive music." Its t.i.tle alone almost ensures its success beforehand. The listener is, however, less impressed by the hidden diabolical inspiration than by the wonderful technic.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Tartini's Dream. From painting by James Marshall.]

Strange to say, this composition actually aided Tartini to obtain the position of director of the orchestra in the Church of St. Antony at Padua, in 1721. Before this time, however, he heard in Venice the famous violinist Veracini, whose achievements in bowing impressed Tartini so much, that he left Venice the next morning for Ancona, where he pursued the study of his art, unmolested, for seven years. It was here that he created a new method of playing, which, particularly as regards the bowing, was the one followed for half a century.

Let us, however, return to Tartini at a.s.sisi, and tell how an unforeseen incident at last freed the young artist from his hiding-place and gave him back to his family. On a certain holiday, Tartini was playing a violin solo, during services, in the choir of the church, when a sudden gust of wind blew aside the curtains which had concealed him from the a.s.sembly. A man from Padua, who happened to be in the church at the time, recognised Tartini, and betrayed his hiding-place. Circ.u.mstances had fortunately changed in the course of two years, the anger of the bishop was pacified, and Tartini was allowed to return to his wife at Padua.

In the year 1723 he was called to Prague to perform during the festivities at the coronation of the Emperor Charles VI. He went with his friend, the violoncellist, Antonio Nardini, to Prague, where they both accepted a position in the orchestra of Count Kinsky. After three years in this service, they returned to Padua, which city Tartini never left again. Invitations flowed in from all the great capitals, but no terms tempted him to leave his native soil.

Among the first of these offers was one from Lord Middles.e.x, inviting Tartini to London, and hinting that a visit to England would probably bring him in at least three thousand pounds; but it was declined in the following disinterested language: "I have a wife with the same sentiments as myself, and no children. We are perfectly contented with our position, and if we wish for anything, it is, certainly, not to possess more than we have at present." The remainder of his long and famous career pa.s.sed quietly, dedicated to study, composition, and teaching. The school founded by him in 1728 soon became famous all over Europe, and sent out some of the most noted violinists. Padua was then the place of pilgrimage for all violinists, and it was not without cause that Tartini's countrymen called him "il maestro delle n.a.z.ioni."

This period of Tartini's labour is, above all, remarkable for his theoretic researches. Already, in 1714, he had discovered the combination tones (the so-called "third" or Tartini's tone). This discovery, a lasting and valuable acquisition to all later investigations into acoustics, led him further and further, but apart from the exact road of natural science into the nebulous regions of mystic philosophy. Tartini taught that with the problem of harmony would also be solved the mystery of creation, that divinity itself would be revealed in the mystical symbols of the tone relations. In these mystical investigations, the composer believed himself particularly favoured by the grace of G.o.d.

The German composer, Naumann, who became Tartini's pupil at an early age, and who enjoyed his favour as no other did, has written down many remarkable facts concerning the master. To be initiated into the last secrets of the art of tone and the universe was Naumann's most ardent wish, but he was always put off to some future time as not yet being quite mature and worthy enough. Naumann's ill.u.s.trations of Tartini's teachings resemble more a mystic and ecstatic sermon than a musical theory. Tartini died without having spoken his last word. His character in this last period of his life appears to have been amiable, mild, and benevolent. The sharp and violent disposition of his wife did not make him happy, but he nevertheless always remained considerate and tender toward her. He died in Padua, at the age of seventy-eight, on the sixteenth of February, 1770, and lies buried in the Church of St. Catherine. He perfected the art of bowing, composed eighteen concertos for five instruments, as well as several trios and a number of sonatas, and left a treatise on music. Doctor Burney translated and published, in 1779, a long letter of instructions for playing the violin which Tartini wrote from Padua, in 1760, to "My very much Esteemed Signora Maddalena." It can also be found in the life of "Ole Bull," who had a very high opinion of what Tartini must have been as a teacher.

The splendid collection of modern German pictures owned by Count von Schack, at Munich, includes "Tartini's Dream," which was painted by James Marshall. He was born at Amsterdam in 1838, but studied in Antwerp and Paris, and at Weimar under Friedrich Preller. Most of Marshall's life has been spent in Germany.

BACH.

Bach's position as one of a numerous family of musicians is unique, for it cannot be said of any other composer that his forefathers, his contemporary relations, and his descendants were all musicians, and not only musicians, but holders of important offices as such.

Johann Sebastian Bach, the greatest of all that bore that name, considered the founder of his family to be Veit Bach, a Thuringian musician who settled in Pressburg in Hungary as a baker and miller.

Later, because of religious persecution, he returned to his native country, where he lived at the village of Wechmar near Gotha, dying in 1619. Of his numerous musical descendants, Johann (1604-1673) became organist at Schweinfurt, and afterward director of the town musicians at Erfurt. Here, though the town suffered much from the effects of war, he founded a family which quickly increased and soon filled all the town musicians' places, so that for about a hundred and fifty years, and even after no more of the family lived there, the town musicians were known as "The Bachs."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Bach's Preludes. From painting by E. J. C. Hamman.]

Heinrich Bach (1615-1692) was organist of the Franciscan Church at Arnstadt for fifty years, composed much, and had six children, three of whom were, in their day, noted musicians. Of the twin brothers, Johann Ambrosius and Johann Christoph, born in 1645, the first was town organist of Eisenach, and the second court musician at Arnstadt. These brothers were remarkably alike, not only in looks, but in character and temperament. They both played the violin in exactly the same way, they spoke alike, and it is said that their own wives could scarcely tell them apart. They suffered from the same illnesses, and died within a few months of one another. Johann Christoph once figured in an action for breach of promise of marriage brought before the Consistory at Arnstadt by Anna Cunigunda Wiener, with whom he had once "kept company." The court decided that Bach must marry her, but, with the independence of his family, he refused to do so, and he kept his word.

Another Johann Christoph, uncle of the great Sebastian, was organist at Eisenach for sixty years, and is, together with his brother Michael, distinguished as a composer. Maria Barbara, the youngest daughter of Michael, became Sebastian Bach's first wife. One Johann Jacob Bach was an oboe-player in the Swedish guard, and followed Charles XII. to his defeat at Pultowa, later becoming court-musician at Stockholm.

A vigorous, ambitious, and altogether remarkable family was this of the Bachs, and one of the most notable things about it is the uniformly high moral character of its members. Only one, of all those who flourished before Sebastian, is spoken of as being given to drink.

Wilhelm Friedemann, the oldest son of the greatest Bach, unfortunately had the same failing, and died in Berlin in 1789, poor and miserable through intemperance. His musical talent was exceptional, authorities calling him the greatest organist in Germany after his father. He is sometimes spoken of as the "Halle Bach," from having been music director of a church there.

The "father of modern piano music" was also the father of a large family, not less than twenty children having been born to him. The most celebrated of his twelve sons was Carl Philipp Emanuel, who is called the "Berlin Bach," having lived there in the court service for nearly thirty years. Emanuel was a prolific composer in all styles, and occupies an important place in the history of music. Another son, Johann Christoph Friedrich, was a composer and also chamber musician to Count von Lippe at Buckeburg, from which circ.u.mstance he is called the "Buckeburger Bach."

Sebastian's youngest boy, Johann Christian (the Bach family evidently never wearied of the name of Johann), called the "Milanese" and afterward the "English" Bach, composed a large number of works,--songs, operas, oratorios, what not. He lived and worked at one time in Milan, where he was organist of the cathedral, and from there went to London, where he died in 1782. The daughters of Sebastian Bach--there were only eight of them--mostly died young, nor did they exhibit any special musical talent, and, after his sons' careers were ended, no one bearing the name has, we believe, won distinction in the art.

The Bach family were as a rule both sincerely pious and fond of innocent pleasure. Their tribal feeling was strong, and it was a custom to meet together once a year at Erfurt, Eisenach, or Arnstadt, and spend a day in friendly intercourse, exchanging news and relating experiences. Of course on these occasions they devoted some of the happy hours to music, and a favourite pastime was the singing of "quodlibets"--a kind of musical medley--wherein portions of several well-known songs would be dovetailed together.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Morning Devotions in the Family of Bach. From painting by Toby E. Rosenthal.]

Bach's home life was a happy one. Both his marriage ventures turned out well, and he was beloved by children and pupils alike. His large family circle was often added to by friends and visitors, who enjoyed his never failing hospitality, especially toward musicians. In the midst of all his occupations, he found time for music in the family circle, and a German-American artist has produced a charming work showing the great composer seated at the clavichord and surrounded by his children, who are singing their morning hymn. This painting, which belongs to the Museum of Leipsic, the city where Bach laboured so long and where he died, is by Toby E. Rosenthal, who was born in Germany in 1848, but was brought to the United States by his parents when but a few years old. He grew up here, but, at the age of seventeen returned to study art in the land of his birth, where he became a pupil of Professor Raupp and also of the celebrated Piloty. Most of his life since then has been spent in Germany.

The dead Elaine, pa.s.sing to Lancelot on her funeral barge, and Constance de Beverley, before her judges in the Vault of Penitence, have been finely pictured by Rosenthal, who has also treated lighter topics in "Grandmother's Dancing-lesson," "The Alarmed Boarding-school," and "The Cardinal's Portrait."

The last visit which Bach ever made was to the court of Frederick the Great at Potsdam, in 1747.

His son Emanuel had been capellmeister to Frederick since 1740, and the king had frequently, and always with more insistence, thrown out hints that he would like to hear the great artist. Bach, being much occupied, and disinclined for travelling, did not accede to the king's wishes until they amounted to a positive command. Then, taking Friedemann with him, he started for Potsdam, which he reached early in May. The story of the meeting with Frederick is variously told. We will tell it in Friedemann's own words: "When Frederick II. had just prepared his flute, in the presence of the whole orchestra, for the evening's concert, the list of strangers who had arrived was brought him. Holding his flute in his hand, he glanced through the list. Then he turned around with excitement to the a.s.sembled musicians, and, laying down his flute, said, 'Gentlemen, old Bach is come.' Bach, who was at his son's house, was immediately invited to the castle. He had not even time allowed him to take off his travelling clothes and put on his black court dress. He appeared, with many apologies for the state of his dress, before the great prince, who received him with marked attention, and threw a deprecating look toward the court gentlemen, who were laughing at the discomposure and numerous compliments of the old man. The flute concerto was given up for this evening; and the king led his famous visitor into all the rooms of the castle, and begged him to try the Silbermann pianos, which he (the king) thought very highly of, and of which he possessed seven. The musicians accompanied the king and Bach from one room to another; and after the latter had tried all the pianos, he begged the king to give him a fugue subject, that he could at once extemporise upon.

Frederick thereupon wrote out the subject, and Bach developed this in the most learned and interesting manner, to the great astonishment of the king, who, on his side, asked to hear a fugue in six parts. But since every subject is not adapted for so full a working out, Bach chose one for himself, and astounded those present by his performance. The king, who was not easily astonished, was completely taken by surprise at the unapproachable mastery of the old cantor. Several times he cried, 'There is only one Bach!' On the following day Bach played on all the organs in the churches of Potsdam."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Frederick the Great and Bach. From painting by Herman Kaulbach.]

Rosenthal portrayed the composer making music among his family; Hermann Kaulbach has depicted him playing before Frederick. The artist has given such a look of naturalness to the scene, that we are quite satisfied to accept his presentment and believe that thus the king and his court listened

"While the majestic organ rolled Contrition from its mouths of gold."

Hermann Kaulbach is a son of the renowned painter, Wilhelm von Kaulbach.

A pupil of Piloty, he was born at Munich in 1846, and has produced some works of a historic character, such as "Lucrezia Borgia," "Voltaire at Paris," "Louis XI. and His Barber," and "The Last Days of Mozart," but is perhaps still more successful with his admirable pictures of childhood.

We must not forget to mention his "Madonna," a work which should add much to his fame.

HANDEL.

Like many other children who grew up to fame, Handel was not intended by his parents to follow the art in which he is renowned. His father, who was body surgeon to the Prince of Saxony, wished him to become a lawyer.

All accounts of Handel's childhood "agree in representing him as bright, clever, energetic, and singularly tenacious of purpose. These qualities he inherited; the special genius on which they were brought to bear was all his own. Unlike Bach, the flower and crown of a race of born musicians, there seems no record in Handel's case of his having a single musical or artistic progenitor. From infancy, however, he lived in music, its attraction for him was irresistible, and he began to 'musicise' for himself (to quote Chrysander's expression) almost as soon as he could walk, and before he could speak. This inspired all the family and friends with wonder and admiration, in which his parents at first shared; but, as time went on, the thing began to wear a different aspect, and the father grew alarmed. The boy was a curiosity, no doubt, and music as a pastime was all very well, but it had never occurred to the worthy surgeon to look on it as a serious profession for a child of his, least of all for this, his last, most promising and favourite son. For the others he had been contented with situations in his own station of life; for this one he nourished more ambitious designs. He was to be a doctor of laws, a learned man, and the child's intelligence and thirst for knowledge favoured the hope.

"The father set to work to stifle his son's musical proclivities in every possible way, to separate him from musical society, to banish all music from the house, to prevent him even from going to school, for fear he should learn notes as well as letters there. He had set himself a difficult task, for the boy's inclination was obstinate, and among his doting admirers were some who conspired in his behalf so successfully as to convey into the house, undiscovered, a little clavichord, or dumb spinet. This instrument, much used at that time in convent cells, is so tiny that a man can carry it under his arm, and as the strings are m.u.f.fled with strips of cloth, the tone is diminutive in proportion. It was safely established in a garret under the roof, and here, while the household slept, the boy taught himself to play. If the master of the house ever suspected what was going on, he connived at it, thinking that probably no very dangerous amount of art-poison could be imbibed under such difficulties. It proved, however, but the thin edge of the wedge, and resulted before long in a collision between the wills of father and son, in which the former sustained his first real defeat. He had occasion to visit Weissenfels, where a grandson of his first marriage was chamberlain to the reigning duke. George, who was seven or eight years old, and was very fond of this grown-up nephew of his, begged to be taken, too; but his father refused, turned a deaf ear to all his entreaties, and set off alone. Not to be baffled, the pertinacious boy followed the carriage on foot, and after a considerable time overtook it. The father's vexation and wrath were extreme, but futile; scolding and threats were thrown away on this child. He owned his fault, cried bitterly, promised endless good behaviour in the future, but stuck all the time to his original point, which was that this time he must go. The end was that the father had to give in and take him, and this journey practically decided Handel's career.

"Music at Weissenfels was held in high esteem. The duke, a generous and enlightened prince, was a friend to musicians. And though Heinrich Schutz had been twenty years dead, his long life and n.o.ble labours were fresh in the memory of his fellow townsmen, who were justly proud of their burgomaster's son. He, too, had been educated for the law, and not till after long doubts and severe struggles did he abandon it to follow his true vocation.

"Little Handel soon found allies. The choir of the ducal chapel admitted him to their practices, and encouraged him to try his hand at the organ. Finding him soon quite able to manage it, they lifted him up to the organ-stool, one Sunday afternoon at the conclusion of the service, and let him play away as best he could. This attracted the notice of the duke, who listened with astonishment to the performance, and, at its close, inquired who the brave little organist might be. On hearing the whole story from his chamberlain, he summoned father and son to his presence. With the former he expostulated on the folly of coercing a child in the choice of a profession, and a.s.sured him, with all due respect for his conscientious scruples, that to restrain the activity of a heaven-born genius like this was to sin against nature and the public good. As to the boy, he filled his pockets with gold pieces, and exhorted him to be industrious. Here was a change! Music was to be not only suffered, but furthered; his father was to lose no time in finding him a good teacher. Often as old Handel must have stopped his ears to these very same arguments before, he could not choose but listen, now that they fell from ducal lips. He did not change his mind,--a doctors.h.i.+p of law remained the goal of his ambition,--but he practically acquiesced, and, on his return to Halle, sent his son to study music with Zachau, organist of the Frauenkirche."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Child Handel. From painting by Margaret d.i.c.ksee.]

The legend that accompanied, in the catalogue of the Royal Academy of 1893, Miss d.i.c.ksee's picture of the boy Handel, varied somewhat from the version just quoted. It says that the father forbade the child following his bent, and banished all the musical instruments in the house to the attic, where, however, the little musician discovered them, and, under cover of night, resumed his beloved pursuit. The sounds thus produced, and the flitting of the little white-clad figure over the stairs, started the story that the house was haunted, which was believed until the truth was revealed, as shown in the picture.

Miss d.i.c.ksee, an Englishwoman, and the sister of Frank d.i.c.ksee, R. A., has painted several deservedly popular pictures, having for their subjects episodes in the lives of those who have reared themselves above the common ma.s.s of humanity. Such are her "Swift and Stella,"

"The First Audience--Goldsmith and the Misses h.o.r.enck," and "Sheridan at the Linleys."

Handel, whom the Elector of Hanover had made his capellmeister, first came to England in the autumn of 1710, having been granted a year's leave of absence by his royal patron. In the following February his opera of "Rinaldo" was produced in London with great success, and at once established the composer's reputation with the English public. At the close of the season he returned to Hanover, where he remained over a year, but was back in England again toward the end of 1712. In July of the following year, his Te Deum and Jubilate, for the service of thanksgiving held in celebration of the Peace of Utrecht, was performed in St. Paul's, and Queen Anne bestowed a life pension of 200 pounds a year upon him. In August, 1714, the queen died, and Handel, who had long out-stayed his leave of absence from Hanover, felt some qualms of conscience while awaiting the coming of his master, who arrived within six weeks after Anne's death to be crowned as George I. George had some reason to be vexed with both "his princ.i.p.al musicians: with the capellmeister for neglect, with Farinelli, the concert-master at Hanover, for obtrusiveness. In the thick of all the bustle consequent on the court's leaving Hanover, this gentleman wrote and thrust into the elector's notice a composition to the words, 'Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.' Handel was somewhat afraid to go near his injured master, who, however, could not help hearing of him.

The new royal family cared for music, and for no other form of art.

They were not edified by entertainments in a language they did not understand, and the English drama drooped while the Italian opera revived, the Prince and Princess of Wales being present nearly every night.

"'Rinaldo' was remounted, with Nicolini, who had returned, in the princ.i.p.al part. 'Amadigi,' by Handel, was produced toward the end of the season, and repeated four times. At the second performance the concerto now known as the 'Fourth Hautboy Concerto' was played between the acts. A great deal of the opera is adapted from 'Silla;' the whole stands high among the series to which it belongs. It may be an indirect testimony to its popularity that parodies and burlesques in imitation of it drew crowded audiences to other theatres. Meanwhile, the awkwardness of the situation between the king and Handel increased every day. The account of the manner in which a reconciliation was at last brought about has been repeated and believed by every biographer since Mainwaring, including Chrysander, in his first volume, who, however, by the time he wrote his third volume had discovered some evidence tending to throw doubt on its veracity. The story goes that Baron Kielmansegge, the common friend of both king and capellmeister, took occasion of a grand water-party, attended by the whole court, to engage Handel to compose some music expressly for this festivity, the result being the celebrated 'Water Music,' of which Handel secretly conducted the performance in a boat that followed the royal barge. The king, as delighted as he was surprised by this concert, inquired at once as to the author of the music, and then heard all about it from Kielmansegge, who took upon himself to apologise most humbly for Handel's bad behaviour, and to beg in his name for condonation of his offence. Whereupon his Majesty made no difficulties, but at once restored him to favour, and 'honoured his compositions with the most flattering marks of royal approbation.'

"A water-party did take place in August, 1715, but the brilliant occasion when a concert of music was given, for which special music was written 'by Mr. Handel,' and when Kielmansegge was present, and when probably, therefore, the 'Water Music' was produced, only happened in 1717, when peace had long been made, and pardon sealed with a grant to Handel of 200 pounds a year. The ice was, perhaps, broken by Geminiani, the great violinist, who, when he was to play his concertos at court, requested to be accompanied on the harpsichord by Handel, as he considered no one else capable of doing it. The pet.i.tion was powerfully seconded by Kielmansegge, and acceded to by George I."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Handel and George I. From painting by E. J. C. Hamman.]