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 fête 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 Gavonà, 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 Süssmayer 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 Hallé 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." Hallé 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. Hallé 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.
Hallé'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 Hallé'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 Hallé 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 Fétis, 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 ever and anon o'er these he'd throw
Jets of small notes like pearl."