The name of Giuseppe Tartini will recur to the musical reader more
familiarly than those previously mentioned. He was the scion of a noble
stock, and was born in Istria in 1692. Originally intended for the law,
he was entered at the University of Padua at the age of eighteen for
this profession, but his time was mostly given to the study of music and
fencing, in both of which he soon became remarkably proficient, so
that he surpassed the masters who taught him. It may be that accident
determined the future career of Tartini, for, had he remained at the
university, the whole bent of his life might have been different. Eros
exerted his potent sway over the young student, and he entered into a
secret marriage, that being the lowest price at which he could win his
_bourgeois_ sweetheart. Tartini became an outcast from his family, and
was compelled to fly and labor for his own living. After many hardships,
he found shelter in a convent at Assisi, the prior of which was a family
connection, who took compassion on the friendless youth. Here Tartini
set to work vigorously on his violin, and prosecuted a series of
studies which resulted in the "Sonata del Diavolo" and other remarkable
compositions. At last he was reconciled to his family through the
intercession of his monastic friend, and took his abode in Venice that
he might have the benefit of hearing the playing of Veracini, a great
but eccentric musician, then at the head of the Conservatario of that
city. Veracini was nicknamed "Capo Pazzo," or "mad-head," on account of
his eccentricity. Dubourg tells a curious story of this musician: Being
at Lucca at the time of the annual festival called "Festa della Croce,"
on which occasion it was customary for the leading artists of Italy to
meet, Veracini put his name down for a solo. When he entered the choir,
he found the principal place occupied by a musician of some rank named
Laurenti. In reply to the latter's question, "Where are you going?"
Veracini haughtily answered, "To the place of the first violinist." It
was explained by Laurenti that he himself had been engaged to fill that
post, but, if his interlocutor wished to play a solo, he could have
the privilege either at high mass or at vespers. Evidently he did not
recognize Veracini, who turned away in a rage, and took his position
in the lowest place in the orchestra. When his turn came to play his
concerto, he begged that instead of it he might play a solo where he
was, accompanied on the violoncello by Lanzetti. This he did in so
brilliant and unexpected a manner that the applause was loud and
continued, in spite of the sacred nature of the place; and whenever he
was about to make a close, he turned toward Laurenti and called out:
"Cost se suona per fare il primo violino"--"This is the way to play
first violin."
Veracini played upon a fine Steiner violin. The only master he ever had
was his uncle Antonio, of Florence; and it was by traveling all over
Europe, and by numerous performances in public, that he formed a
style of playing peculiar to himself, very similar to what occurred
to Pa-ganini and the celebrated De Bériot in later years. It does not
appear certain that Tartini ever took lessons from Veracini; but hearing
the latter play in public had no doubt a very great effect upon him, and
caused him to devote many years to the careful study of his instrument.
Some say that Veracini's performance awakened a vivid emulation in
Tartini, who was already acknowledged to be a very masterly player. Up
to the time, however, that Tartini first heard Veracini, he had
never attempted any of the more intricate and difficult feats of
violin-playing, as effected by the management of the bow. An intimate
friendship sprang up between the two artists and another clever
musician named Marcello, and they devoted much time to the study of the
principles of violin-playing, particularly to style and the varied kinds
of bowing. Veracini's mind afterward gave way, and Tartini withdrew
himself to Ancona, where in utter solitude he applied himself to working
out the fundamental principles of the bow in the technique of the
violin--principles which no succeeding violinist has improved or
altered. Tartini, even while absorbed in music, did not neglect the
study of science and mathematics, of which he was passionately fond,
and in the pursuit of which he might have made a name not less than his
reputation as a musician. It was at this time that Tartini made a very
curious discovery, known as the _phenomenon of the third sound_, which
created some sensation at the time, and has since given rise to numerous
learned discourses, but does not appear to have led to any great
practical result. Various memoirs or treatises were written by him, and
that in which he develops the nature of the _third sound_ is his "Tratto
di Musica se-condo la vera scienza de l'Armonia." In this and others of
his works, he appears much devoted to _theory_, and endeavors to place
all his practical facts upon a thoroughly scientific basis. The effect
known as the _third sound_ consists in the sympathetic resonance of a
third note when the two upper notes of a chord are played in perfect
tune. "If you do not hear the bass," Tartini would say to his pupils,
"the thirds or sixths which you are playing are not perfect in
intonation."
At Ancona, Tartini attained such reputation as a player and musician
that he was appointed, in 1721, to the directorship of the orchestra of
the church of St. Anthony at Padua. Here, according to Fetis, he spent
the remaining forty-nine years of his life in peace and comfort, solely
occupied with the labors connected with the art he loved.
His great fame brought him repeated offers from the principal cities of
Europe, even London and Paris, hat nothing could induce him to leave his
beloved Italy. Though Tartini could not have been heard out of Italy,
his violin school at Padua graduated many excellent players, who were
widely known throughout the musical world. Tartini's compositions
reached no less than one hundred and fifty works, distinguished not only
by beauty of melody and knowledge of the violin, but by soundness
of musical science. Some of his sonatas are still favorites in the
concert-room. Among these, the most celebrated is the "Trille
del Dia-volo," or "Devil's Sonata," composed under the following
circumstances, as related by Tartini himself to his pupil Lalande:
"One night in 1713," he says, "I dreamed that I had made a compact with
the devil, who promised to be at my service on all occasions. Everything
succeeded according to my mind; my wishes were anticipated and desires
always surpassed by the assistance of my new servant. At last I thought
I would offer my violin to the devil, in order to discover what kind of
a musician he was, when, to my great astonishment, I heard him play
a solo, so singularly beautiful and with such superior taste and
precision, that it surpassed all the music I had ever heard or conceived
in the whole course of my life. I was so overcome with surprise and
delight that I lost my power of breathing, and the violence of this
sensation awoke me. Instantly I seized my violin in the hopes of
remembering some portion of what I had just heard, but in vain! The work
which this dream suggested, and which I wrote at the time, is doubtless
the best of all my compositions, and I still call it the 'Sonata del
Diavolo'; but it sinks so much into insignificance compared with what
I heard, that I would have broken my instrument and abandoned music
altogether, had I possessed any other means of subsistence."
Tartini died at Padua in 1770, and so much was he revered and admired
in the city where he had spent nearly fifty years of his life, that his
death was regarded as a public calamity. He used to say of himself that
he never made any real progress in music till he was more than thirty
years old; and it is curious that he should have made a great change
in the nature of his performance at the age of fifty-two. Instead of
displaying his skill in difficulties of execution, he learned to prefer
grace and expression. His method of playing an adagio was regarded as
inimitable by his contemporaries; and he transmitted this gift to his
pupil Nardini, who was afterward called the greatest adagio player in
the world. Another of Tartini's great _élevés_ was Pugnani, who before
coming to him had been instructed by Lorenzo Somis, the pupil of
Corelli. So it may be said that Pugnani united in himself the schools of
Corelli and Tartini, and was thus admirably fitted to be the instructor
of that grand player, who was the first in date of the violin virtuosos
of modern times, Viotti.
Both as composer and performer, Pugnani was held in great esteem
throughout Europe. His first meeting with Tartini was an incident of
considerable interest. He made the journey from Paris to Padua expressly
to see Tartini, and on reaching his destination he proceeded to the
house of the great violinist.
Tartini received him kindly, and evinced some curiosity to hear him
play. Pugnani took up his instrument and commenced a well-known solo,
but he had not played many bars before Tartini suddenly seized his arm,
saying, "Too loud, my friend, too loud!" The Piedmontese began again,
but at the same passage Tartini stopped him again, exclaiming this time,
"Too soft, my good friend, too soft!" Pugnani therefore laid down the
violin, and begged of Tartini to give him some lessons. He was at
once received among Tartini's pupils, and, though already an excellent
artist, began his musical education almost entirely anew. Many anecdotes
have been foisted upon Pugnani, some evidently the creation of rivals,
and not worth repeating. Others, on the contrary, tend to enlighten us
upon the character of the man. Thus, when playing, he was so completely
absorbed in the music, that he has been known, at a public concert, to
walk about the platform during the performance of a favorite cadenza,
imagining himself alone in the room. Again, at the house of Madame
Denis, when requested to play before Voltaire, who had little or no
music in his soul, Pugnani stopped short, when the latter had the bad
taste to continue his conversation, remarking in a loud, clear voice,
"M. de Voltaire is very clever in making verses, but as regards music
he is devilishly ignorant." Pugnani's style of play is said to have been
very broad and noble, "characterized by that commanding sweep of the
bow, which afterward formed so grand a feature in the performance of
Viotti." He was distinguished as a composer as well as a player, and
among his numerous works are some seven or eight operas, which were very
successful for the time being on the Italian stage.