A few years ago the Istrian town of Pirano unveiled a statue, not
exactly to _one_ of its illustrious sons, but to the _only one_ of its
children who ever became famous, so far as we know. The pedestal of
the statue is inscribed.
_Istria to Giuseppe Tartini, 1896._
The admirably conceived figure which surmounts the pedestal represents
the master standing, violin and bow in hand, at the moment of his
accidental discovery of the curious acoustic phenomenon known as the
"third sound,"--_i. e._, the production of a third note in harmony when
only two are struck with the bow. The statue was modelled by Dal
Zotto, an able Italian sculptor, whose work found so much favour with
those present at its inauguration that they enthusiastically carried
him about the piazza on their shoulders,--a tribute we judge to have
been well deserved.
The subject of Dal Zotto's statue was sent, while yet very young, from
Pirano, (where he was born of a good family in 1692) to Capo d' Istria,
to study at the college of the "Padri delle Scuole." It was here that
he received his first instruction in violin playing, and in
fencing,--two accomplishments that were to play an important part in
his future life. In spite of the fact that Tartini's family had
destined him to become a Franciscan, he had the strongest antipathy to
an ecclesiastical career. His relatives fought in vain against his
unbending resistance, and finally sent him to Pavia, to study law.
Learning cost him little effort, and he still found plenty of spare
time for fencing. Somewhat wild, and tired of serious study, he
decided to take up his abode in Paris or Naples, and there establish
himself as a fencing-master. A love-affair put an end to this project.
Tartini having won the heart of a young and beautiful girl, a niece of
the cardinal and Bishop of Padua, George Cornaro, the lovers were
secretly married, but did not long succeed in keeping the knowledge of
their union from their relatives. Tartini's family, enraged at his
conduct, withdrew at once the support they had hitherto given him, and
to cap the climax, the bishop accused him of seduction and theft.
Warned in time, Tartini fled to Rome, leaving his young wife in Padua
without confiding to her the direction of his travels.
Reaching Assisi, 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 Assisi, 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 passed 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 vassal. 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 manuscript
of the "Devil's Sonata," which was published many years later (in
1805), under the title 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 title alone almost
ensures its success beforehand. The listener is, however, less
impressed by the hidden diabolical inspiration than by the wonderful
technic.
[Illustration: 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 Assisi, 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 assembly. A man from Padua, who happened to be
in the church at the time, recognised Tartini, and betrayed his
hiding-place. Circumstances 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 Middlesex, 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 passed 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 nazioni."
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 God.
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 illustrations 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.