Nicolo Paganini: His Life and Work

FOOTNOTES:

CHAPTER I.

There are some names, the mere mention or thought of which conjure up distinct personalities; such are Handel, Bach, Beethoven, Wagner; but not one has the extraordinary individuality of that of Paganini. Though few can be living who ever saw the man, though his portraits are not now commonly to be met with, the name of Paganini at once calls up a picture—weird, uncanny, demoniacal; brings back the faint echo of performances long lost in the corridors of time; and excites the imagination in a manner altogether unique. The last few years have witnessed the appearance of an unprecedented number of wonderful young violinists, whose achievements culminate in the marvellous playing of the boy Franz von Vecsey. These manifestations are almost enough to induce belief in the theory or doctrine of reincarnation, and to make one fancy that the great Genoese is once again in the flesh. These violinists, too, are all playing Paganini's music; they seem to glory in it, and so do the audiences, although to many serious and worthy folk it is mere clap-trap stuff. This revived interest in Paganini and his music seems to render the present an appropriate time to restate the case of the man and the artist, notwithstanding the extensive literature already associated with his name.

It is a curious fact that nearly every distinguished musician, composer or executant, has his namesakes. There was a constant succession of Bachs in Thuringia for nearly two centuries; Beethoven's father and grand-father were musicians; there were four Mozarts, musicians; and more than twenty Wagners of some standing in the musical world. No one seems to have traced the pedigree of Paganini, but he was preceded and followed by others bearing the same name, and such particulars as can be gleaned concerning these Paganinis may not be without interest, and at least may serve by way of introduction to the greatest of them all.

Dr. Burney, in his account of Italian Opera in London during the last half of the eighteenth century, names a Signor and Signora Paganini as engaged for the season of 1760-61. They came from Berlin, and the Doctor is ungallant enough to say that the lady, known as The Paganini, was not young. She made her début on November 22, 1760, in Galuppi's Il Mondo della Luna, in a buffa part, and was very captivating. At her benefit, when another opera by Galuppi was given—Il Filosofo di Campagna,—such a crowd assembled as had never been seen on any other occasion. Not one third of those who presented themselves at the Opera-house were able to obtain admission. Caps were lost, and gowns torn to pieces, without number or mercy, in the struggle to get in. Ladies in full dress, who had sent away their carriages, were obliged to appear in the streets and walk home without caps or attendants. Luckily the weather was fine, adds the Doctor, who witnessed this uncommon spectacle. The Paganini thus anticipated the extraordinary triumphs of the more famous artist of half a century later. Signor Paganini, the husband, was only a coarse first man, and sang almost without a voice. Next comes Ercole Paganini, born at Ferrara, about 1770, the composer of several operas, produced at La Scala, Milan, and at Florence, from 1804 to 1810. A tenor singer named Paganini appeared in opera at Florence in 1830, was decidedly successful and became highly popular in Genoa in 1836. After Francesco Lamperti was appointed (in 1850) professor of singing at the Conservatorio, Milan, among the good pupils he turned out was one named Paganini, of whom, however, no particulars are forthcoming. In 1865, Cesare Paganini, a theoretical writer, published a treatise at Florence; and in November, 1898, Signora Franceschati-Paganini was the Brünnhilde in a performance of Götterdämmerung, at Bologna. Then there was Dr. Paganini, who was perhaps the brother in whose charge young Nicolo was allowed to go to Lucca in 1798. Whomsoever he may have been, this Dr. Paganini died in 1835, which event gave rise to a rumour that the great violinist was dead—a rumour happily untrue. This Dr. Paganini was not a fiddle-player, but a fiddle-fancier. He possessed a violin ornamented with mother-o'-pearl and ebony, which had belonged to a Shah of Persia, the favourite violin of Lord Byron (so it was said), one that had belonged to Stanislaus of Poland, father-in-law of Louis XV., one that had been played upon by Charles IV. of Spain (the enthusiast who had quartet performances at six in the morning, and who scorned to keep time,) and another, once the property of that monarch's favourite, Don Manuel de Godoy, Duke of Alcudia.

All the Paganinis mentioned above were eclipsed by the Paganini ( pace Dr. Burney), the artist who stood alone, whose life was full of strange vicissitudes, who was worshipped and calumniated, who was applauded as perhaps never artist was before nor since, yet who was laughed at, hissed—only once—brought before the law-courts—threatened with imprisonment and mobbed within an ace of being lynched. As a child of four, Paganini narrowly escaped being buried alive; from youth up he was a constant sufferer from physical disorders; he had no real home till he was fifty-two; after death his remains were refused burial for five years; and when his body had rested in the grave for half a century it was exhumed, apparently in order that his features might once more be gazed upon. Truly, Paganini's story is a romance, a drama, a tragedy. We may not look upon his like again, nor is it desirable that we should; for his life conveys a moral that few can fail to discern.

The artist is the child of his age. What kind of age was it that produced Paganini? A few years before he was born there came into the world one who was to set Europe aflame. The age was the age of revolution. Thrones tottered; armies devastated the Continent, and Italy became a mere appanage of the French Empire. The political upheaval was accompanied by a revolution in art. The romantic school in music arose, and Beethoven, Schubert, Berlioz, Chopin, Schumann, Liszt, and Wagner, were the psychic results of the turmoil into which the world was thrown. Into such a world, already feeling the premonitory tremors of the great Revolution, was Nicolo Paganini born, at Genoa, on October 27th, 1782. [1]

Plate II.—See Appendix.

The Birthplace of Paganini.

The Genoese—thrifty and industrious—bore no very good moral character at that time; but they were then perhaps not alone in that respect. Little information is available concerning the family of Paganini. The father, Antonio Paganini, kept a small shop in the vicinity of the port; he is described as a man of extraordinarily avaricious character, hard and brutal, but possessing the redeeming quality of a love for music, and showing some skill in the art; his instrument was the mandoline, though Laphaléque says he was a violinist. The mother must have been of a lovable disposition, from what little has been recorded of her. The family consisted of two sons and two daughters. Of the elder son, mention is made but once; of the daughters, nothing seems to be known. Little Nicolo must have given evidence of musical talent very early, but ere he was put to his studies he was attacked by the measles, and that so severely that he remained for a whole day in a state of catalepsy. He was given up for dead and was wrapped in a shroud, and only a slight movement at the last, showing symptoms of life, saved him from the horror of premature burial. Scarcely had he recovered, when his father began his lessons in violin playing. The child's evident disposition for the art excited the father's avarice, which found little scope for gratification in his small business undertakings. He indulged in golden dreams of the future, and to hasten their realisation was unremitting in his work of instruction. His method was cruel in the extreme. The poor child was kept to his task from morn till night; slight faults were punished with rigour, even blows and starvation being resorted to in order to force the talent which nature had bestowed. This unnatural treatment must have wrung the heart of the gentle mother, and doubtless by way of encouragement she told the poor little fellow of her wonderful dream. An Angel had appeared to her, and promised her the fulfilment of any desire. She asked that her son might become the greatest of violinists, and her prayer was to be granted. This disclosure may have fired the ambition of the child, for he was the hardest of workers, and needed no spur. Already, at six years of age, he was a tolerable player, and was even beginning to find out new paths. His performances excited the admiration and amazement of the neighbours, and even the Maestro Francesco Gnecco visited the little house by the harbour to listen to the wonder-child. He introduced the boy to the circle of his own friends, and made the father understand that he had long outgrown his training. In short, the germ of the virtuoso of later days was already manifesting itself. Nicolo was now placed under Giovanni Servetto, leader of the theatre band—a man of slight attainments, with whom the boy did not stay long. His next master was Giacomo Costa, the foremost violinist in Genoa and maestro di capella of the Cathedral, a genial man, who took a lively interest in the boy. Under Costa, Nicolo made rapid progress, and was introduced to a new world, though the pedantry of the master frequently came into collision with the peculiarities of the pupil. Young Paganini now had to play a new concerto each week at one of the churches: that was one of the conditions Costa imposed when taking him as a pupil. Paganini's extraordinary powers as a player at sight were in great measure due to this early experience. The father still exercised stern oversight, and there was little relaxation or youthful pleasure for Nicolo. His health was already undermined, and, as Dubourg touchingly puts it:—the sickly child, incapable of attaining a healthy maturity, was merged into the suffering man.

In his eighth year Nicolo composed a sonata for the violin—since, with other works, lost. About that time a very vivid, almost shamefaced, impression was made upon him by hearing that Mozart, at the age of six, had composed a pianoforte concerto, with parts for orchestra, and so difficult that only a virtuoso could execute it. For long Nicolo tormented himself with the thought of this musical superiority, and strove day and night to remedy his own imperfection in the art.

CHAPTER II.

In 1793 Paganini made his début in the great Theatre of Genoa (the Carlo Felice?). He was in his eleventh year, and his reputation must have been considerable, for the occasion was of some importance, being the benefit concert of two singers of repute, Luigi Marchesi and Teresa Bertinotti. [2] Marchesi was second only to Pacchierotti among the male soprani of the time, and sang at the King's Theatre, London, during the season of 1788; in the Musical Reminiscences of the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe he is highly praised as the most brilliant singer of his day. It was a great compliment to the talent of the young Nicolo that these singers should apply for his assistance. Moreover, they promised to sing for him when he should give a concert. Both functions duly took place, and the boy-artist at each played a set of variations of his own composition on La Carmagnole; an air then greatly in vogue. That old melody Malbrough s'en-va-t-en guerre, pressed into the service of the French Revolution, was appropriately associated with the young artist, himself a revolutionist. His success was phenomenal, performers and audience being thrown into transports of admiration.

It would appear that young Paganini studied with Giacomo Costa for a period of six months only. He must then have continued to work by himself, for it was not until about 1795 that his father took him to Parma, to place him under the Pride of Italy, Alessandro Rolla, to whom the boy had been recommended by Costa. There was an affecting farewell between Nicolo and his mother, for they were tenderly attached to each other. Paganini has himself related the story of his interview with Rolla, which, for the sake of completeness, must be summarised here.

When Nicolo with his father arrived at Rolla's house, the famous violinist was ill in bed. His wife showed the visitors into an apartment adjoining, and went to inform her husband of their arrival, but he was disinclined to receive the strangers. On a table in the room where they were waiting lay a violin, and a composition in manuscript—Rolla's latest concerto. Paganini, prompted by his father, took up the violin, and played the concerto through. Astonished at the performance, Rolla asked what virtuoso was in the next room, and on being told it was only a boy he had heard, would not credit the statement without the evidence of his own eyes. To the father's entreaty Rolla replied that he could teach the boy nothing; it would waste his time to remain with him. He must go to Ferdinando Paer, who would teach him composition.

There are several versions of this story, and much uncertainty respecting some points. Rolla was chamber virtuoso , and director of the concerts at the Court of Parma. Paer, whose first opera was produced in 1789, was at this time in great request at Venice, where he brought out a succession of operas. In 1796 he may have been in Parma, for his Griselda was produced there that year. Paganini, at some time or other, doubtless did profit by Paer's friendly assistance; but his real teacher was Gasparo Ghiretti, chamber musician to Prince Ferdinand of Parma, and the master of Paer. Ghiretti was a violinist, as were nearly all the Italian composers of that period. Under Ghiretti, Paganini went through a systematic course of study in counterpoint and composition, devoting himself to the instrumental style. He must, about the same time, have received violin lessons from Rolla, though he afterwards refused to acknowledge that he had been his pupil. Fétis tells of discussions between Rolla and Paganini concerning the innovations the latter was attempting, for he was always striving after new effects. As he could but imperfectly execute what he aimed at, these eccentric flights did not commend themselves to Rolla, whose taste and style were of a more severe order. Of Paganini's work in composition little appears to be known. Anders states that Paer when in Parma devoted several hours daily to Paganini; and at the end of the fourth month entrusted him with a composition of a duo , in which Nicolo succeeded to the complete satisfaction of his master. Paganini