The Violin Part 9

The sum bequeathed by Paganini to his son (for whom a doc.u.mentary legitimacy had been procured) amounted to two millions of francs (about 80,000), charged with legacies of fifty, and sixty thousand francs, respectively, to his two sisters, and with an annual _pittance_ of 1200 francs to the mother of his loved Achilles. He left also some valuable instruments, including an incomparable _Straduarius_, a charming _Guarnerius_, of the small pattern, an excellent _Amati_, a _ba.s.s_ of Straduarius, agreeing with the violin by the same maker, and his large and favourite _Guarnerius_. This latter, the sole instrument a.s.sociated entirely with his travels, he bequeathed to the city of Genoa, being unwilling that any other artist should possess it after him.

Some further particulars, to ill.u.s.trate chiefly the habits of the _man_, may not be deemed superfluous.

Paganini's existence was a series of alternations betwixt excitement and exhaustion; and it is not surprising to find that his moods of mind were variable and uneven, and that he would sometimes sit, for hours together, in a sealed and sombre taciturnity, whilst, at other times, he would surrender himself to a wild effervescence of gaiety,-without any apparent motive in either case. Most commonly silentious, he was talkative when travelling. The weak state of his health made him averse from loud conversation; and yet, when the rattle of the wheels over the pavement became deafening, he would talk loud and fast. To the scenic charms out-spread before his eyes, he was insensible-his urgent impulse being to move rapidly, and to reach his journey's end. In his later years, a low bodily temperature was habitual to him, insomuch that he would wrap a furred pelisse around him, in summer-time, and huddle himself up in a corner of his carriage, with every window closed.

In-doors, on the contrary, he would have all the windows open, and called it taking an air-bath! He anathematized the climates of Germany and France, but, above all, that of England; and declared that Italy was the only country to live in. The intensity of his internal sufferings trans.m.u.ted, at times, his ordinary pallor into a livid, or even a greenish hue; but his recourse was to quackery-to _one_ empirical remedy, in which he had faith, and not to doctors, in whom he had none.

Before commencing a day's journey, he took no tea, nor coffee, but either soup or a cup of chocolate. If it were early in the morning, he would start without taking anything, and sometimes continue fasting the greater part of the day. For the enc.u.mbrances of baggage, he had almost the contempt of a _Napier_. A small shabby box, in which he placed his beloved _Guarnerius_ instrument, his jewels, money, and meagre stock of linen,-a carpet bag-and a hat-box-these were his accompaniments, and were all stowed inside the vehicle. Careless of all that goes by the name of _comfortable_, he was also very little solicitous about his toilet. His wardrobe might have gone into a napkin. As for his papers, they were thrust into a small red portfolio, in "most admired disorder,"

such as himself alone could penetrate for any immediate purpose.

Arithmetician he was _not_, in the ordinary sense-but he managed his business calculations in a way of his own, that answered all his need.

To the style of his accommodations on the road, he was quite indifferent, provided only that his rooms were _quiet_. At the day's end, a light supper, or (sometimes) a cup of camomile tea, sufficed him.

In his own quarters, Paganini maintained usually the strictest solitude, and seemed always to quit his room with regret. His violin, as silent as himself, was not touched, save when he tuned it for a concert, or a rehearsal. He had worked _enough_-his labours had long before carried him to the summit;-his want, his craving want, was _repose_. There is a floating story about his having been dodged and watched for six months, from one halting-place to another, by an enthusiastic English amateur, who hoped to "pluck out the heart of his mystery," to grasp the secret of his studies, by lodging at the same hotels, and occupying (whenever possible), a contiguous chamber. Vain expectation! a profound silence always enveloped the great Professor. At length, however, the crisis of discovery seemed imminent. Paganini was seen (through a key-hole) to seat himself on a couch-to take the incomparable fiddle from its case-to raise it to his left shoulder! Still, the silence was unbroken-not the whisper of a note could be distinguished! Paganini, absorbed doubtless in the composition of some new piece, only s.h.i.+fted his left hand about, upon the neck of the instrument, to study his positions, without the help of the bow-and then restored the un-awakened fiddle to its resting-place. The Englishman (says the story) renounced his hapless pursuit, and returned home in despair!

Enchained to music and its toils, from his earliest youth, Paganini had acquired very little general knowledge. Books were strange things to him and history and science, almost nullities. Political events had no interest for him: he looked at the newspapers merely for what personally concerned him. His mind was much engaged with his own projects for the future-such as forming a Musical Conservatory in Italy, publis.h.i.+ng his compositions, writing operas, and ceasing to travel. He had a _Byronic_ mistrust of friends, and p.r.o.neness to regard them as secret plotters against his peace. As for visitors (by whom he was sometimes besieged), as many as he was not constrained to see, were pa.s.sed over to his Secretary. To those Artists who sought his converse, that they might enucleate his professional secrets, he listened patiently-but maintained his reserve. Invitations to dine or sup, which at every large town came in a shower upon him, were sparingly and reluctantly accepted. On rising from the table, if he could escape unperceived, he would immediately retire, to take repose. He was more lively _before_ than _after_ dinner-an ill compliment, perhaps, to his _host_, but no bad way of signifying the real sacrifice he had made, in accepting his invitation.

In evening society, he was cheerful, in the absence of _music_; but, if that were started, either in practice, or as a conversational topic, his good humour instantly vanished;-nor is this at all wonderful, when we remember that his public life was one enormous compound of music, and that to _forget_ that art, when in his more private moments, must have been to him as a want and a refuge. His eyes, weakened by the glare of stage lamps, had an owl-like propensity to shun the light, as was manifest in his custom of turning his back to the chandeliers &c. in evening society, and sitting in total darkness at home. He had a faculty, like that of George the Third, for unfailing recollection of the persons and names of those who had been once presented to him; and yet (strange to say) the names of the towns, wherein he gave his concerts, would slip from his memory, as soon as he had quitted them.

On the mornings of his concert-days, he allowed himself a liberal time for quiet-lounging at ease upon a sofa, as if conscious that composure is the cradle of strength-and then he would start up, full of decision for business. Amid the ensuing preparations, he took a good deal of snuff-the sure sign of his being earnestly engaged. At rehearsal, he was careful to exclude strangers. If they found their way in, however, he touched his solo pa.s.sages almost inaudibly, or indicated them by a slight _pizzicato_. With the orchestra, he was rigorous in the extreme-exacting the minutest attention to every point. When he came to some special pa.s.sage of display, in expectation of which, the members of the band were on their legs, all eagerness to catch what was coming, he would sometimes carelessly throw off a few notes only, and then turn towards them with a smile, and the words, _Et ctera, Messieurs!_ It was for the evening-for the public-that he reserved all the wonders of his talent. He always took away with him the various orchestral _parts_, which he would entrust to no one else. As for the _princ.i.p.al_ part, it was never seen, as he played from _memory_, and sought to prevent the copying of his compositions. He had a way-the caprice of conscious power-of keeping the public a long time waiting, before he would show himself, and begin to play. His departure from a concert-room was the picture of a triumph. The curious and the enthusiastic formed a dense lane, extending to his carriage, and welcomed him with transports of admiration. At his hotel, a similar a.s.semblage awaited him with their acclamations. Elate with such marks of general favour, he would then join the _table-d'hote_, not without an appet.i.te for supper, though, perhaps, depression and indigestion might const.i.tute the experience of the following day.

Such, then, as artist and as man, was Nicholas Paganini-whom let none _envy_, nor deem that a world-wide fame was _well_ acquired by the sacrifices _he_ made for its attainment-sacrifices involving, almost of necessity, much oblivion of the higher purposes of life, along with the forfeiture of some of its best comforts. Measuring the toils and sufferings of his career against its triumphs, surely we may say, "_le jeu ne valait pas la chandelle!_"-the precious flame of life was _too dearly_ expended on a perfection that allowed _nothing else_ to be perfected!" For a fitting wreath to the memory of Paganini, the _cypress_ should bear equal part with the _laurel_; since pity and admiration can hardly be dissevered, in our thoughts of him. The consummation of _the artist_ was the spoiling of _the man_. To render himself, in so absolute a sense, the _master_ of his instrument, it was essential to become, what he emphatically was-its _slave_. Bodily health, and moral vigour, withered alike under a dedication to _one_ object of ambitious study, so early sighed for, and with such prolonged severity pursued. That the _success_, however, (be its relative worth what it may) was _complete_-that the bold and wild adventurer reached the highest attainable summit in those regions of art that he explored and ill.u.s.trated-is a point which seems hardly capable of rational dispute. Allowing some of his eccentricities to weigh against him as _defects_, there will yet remain sufficient ground for regarding him, on the whole, as the greatest of _all_ violinists, past or present; nor would _he_ be the _most_ hardy of prognosticators, who should venture to a.s.sign him the like pre-eminence over all future individuals of his calling;-for how can we antic.i.p.ate another such happy union of the _inventive_ with the _executive_ power-another case in which there shall be so strange a concurrence in the various requisites of pre-disposing organization,[43] inflexible will, and co-operating circ.u.mstance? The same causes, however, which have placed him so far above the level of the crowd of instrumentalists, would seem to deny to him the production of any permanent or important impression on the general state of his Art. He could hardly have been followed by others, even if he had undertaken to be their teacher, and to "ungird his strangeness" to their toiling apprehensions, disclosing to them the most subtle principles of what he himself delighted to call _la filosofia del violino_. _His_ means would still have been above _their_ means, and the end would never be reached. Thus, although the greatest of artists, he must be reckoned, as a director and propagator of his art, far less considerable than Viotti of the modern school, Corelli of the old, or even others less distinguished than these two men of fame. "In considering the discoveries of Paganini," said once an able French critic, "as regards their application to the progress of the art, and of genuine music, I think that their influence will be very limited, and that what arises out of them is only good in _his_ hands; for, indifferently executed, it would be insupportable. The art of Paganini stands alone: it was born and it will die with him." It is true that we have had _subsequent_ experience, in various instances, of a certain degree of _approximation_ to the feats of Paganini; but, were this even closer than it is, it would not invalidate what has been here suggested as to the almost incommunicable nature of such skill as his.

Potent to stir the vibratory string, And _wonders_ from the realms of sound to bring!

Skilled, through the _ear_, to reach the awakened _heart_, Or bid the _Fancy_ play her picturing part!

Conqu'ror, whose captives, gladdened with soft strains, Clung to thy sway, and revelled in their chains, And came in crowds, their homage to renew, And heaped the tribute still, as still thy due!

How _void_ the s.p.a.ce that thou were wont to fill!

Thy throne, how vacant, now-and _mute_ thy skill!

Hast thou-hast _found_, far, far from earthly din, The _rest_ thy glittering triumphs could not win?

-Farewell!-What chief soe'er may seek to reign, _Thy like_ we shall not look upon again!

The _compositions_ of Paganini, replete as they are with the most surprising difficulties, and the boldest innovations, form prominent examples of what may be called the _romance_ of instrumental music. The design entertained by their author, of giving them to the world in his own life-time, as well as of imparting the _secret_ that should make their execution seem no longer super-human, was destined to have no fulfilment; and it is to be regretted that his death rendered impossible the complete publication of _all_ that he had composed, as not a few of the ma.n.u.script pieces were left by him in an imperfect state. Of _twenty-four_ several pieces, enumerated as forming the whole of the MS.

original works of Paganini, preserved by his son, _nine_ only were discovered to be in a completed state. An edition of all that is presentable, however, has been undertaken in Paris, to gratify at length a twenty-years expectation but it is very doubtful whether a London edition will be ventured on, since it is only for the higher cla.s.s of professors-for a very select minority-that such a collection can have any attractiveness, beyond that of mere curiosity.

Monsieur Fetis, in his literary notice, written to accompany the Collection just referred to, has given some able critical remarks on the compositions in detail. His pamphlet may be consulted with advantage by the enquiring reader. Alluding to the compositions in their general character, M. Fetis observes that great merit is displayed in them-novelty as to the ideas, elegance as to the forms, richness of harmony, and variety in the effects of instrumentation. These qualities (he adds) s.h.i.+ne out particularly in the _Concertos_, however much they may differ from the cla.s.sic type of those of Viotti, which, with all their charming sentiment, left something yet to be desired, on the score of _variety_, in the more rapid pa.s.sages.

In his own compositions (which he always played with more satisfaction to himself than those of any other master) the mind of the great artist was highly developed; but to execute his peculiar intentions, in all their complexity, he needed the beautiful, exemplary, unfailing accuracy of intonation, that so distinguished him. How nicely exact, in the softest pa.s.sages, his double notes! With what marvellous certainty did his bow pitch down upon the strings, no matter what the relative distance of the intervals! His hand (says M. Fetis) was a geometrical _compa.s.s_, that divided, with mathematical exactness, the neck of the violin-and his fingers always came plump upon the very point at which the intonations of his double-note intervals were to be obtained.

As some sort of antidote to positive _despair_, I will conclude this chapter with a pa.s.sage in which, despite their th.o.r.n.y intricacies, the above-named writer recommends the practical study of Paganini's Works:-

"It will perhaps be asked, what can be the advantage of introducing fresh difficulties into Art! In Music, it will be reasonably contended, the object is not to _astonish_, by the conquest of difficulties, but to _charm_, by means of sentiment. Against this principle, I would be the last to declaim; but I would observe, first, that there is no preventing those cases of _exception_, in which certain artists _will_ seek the triumphs of their talent in extreme perils of execution, which, if successful, the public will as surely applaud;-and, secondly, that the study of what is most arduous, leads to certainty in what is more simple. A violinist who should attain the power of playing the Concertos of Paganini, with truth of tune, and in perfect proportion, would possess, _a fortiori_, an undeviating accuracy in ordinary music."

CHAPTER IV.

THE FRENCH SCHOOL.

... furnished out with _arts_. DRYDEN.

Next in importance to the Italian School of Violinists, that of France now offers its claims to our notice. If the palm, indeed, were to be awarded according to the comparative merits of the _living_ (or recently living) Masters of each School, it must be given in favour of France; for, though we might admit the Italian Paganini to have been "facile princeps," the greatest of _all_ performers-and though we might overlook the consideration of his belonging, in fact, to no cla.s.s or acknowledged system whatever-he is, still, but _one_ man of might,-a Goliah, without an army to back him, since his qualified countrymen, in modern days, are few-whereas the French have a redoubtable band of champions, present or recent, whose united force is able to defy living compet.i.tion. It is in the aggregate of the _past_ with the present, however, that the Italians are found to predominate. The probable originators of the art of violin-playing (in so far, at all events, as it was worthy to be called such), _they_ have been likewise its steady and decisive improvers in every department, from the days of Corelli to those of Viotti, a s.p.a.ce of about a century;-while the excellence of the French is of more modern growth, and, it should be remarked, of more limited character.

Brilliancy of style, neatness and finish of execution, are _their_ distinguis.h.i.+ng traits. They are a gay and a polished nation-they are gay and polished fiddlers. They animate you in the _vivace_, they dazzle you in the _allegro brillante_-but they commonly fail to reach your heart through the _adagio appa.s.sionato_. Their violinists have all the skill that is independent of deep feeling. In _expression_, they fall short of what is required: they catch its lesser graces, but they seem rarely to attain its higher powers. The violin, considered more particularly as the _fiddle_, is an instrument too congenial to the temperament of the French, to have escaped their especial notice and close cultivation. To all that is mercurial in their tendencies, as well as to much that is artificial in their habits, it lends itself with the utmost readiness: it is the best instrument to dance to; it is the best instrument to protect from _ennui_ your sitters at a theatre: it sharpens the pungency of an _air de vaudeville_; it sets off the ceremonial of a ballet. In this sense, the French have "marked it for their own," and achieved wonders with it. Out of this sphere-this lower empire-their power has been less considerable. It must be confessed, however, that this limitation applies with greater force and distinctness to the time _preceding_ their great Revolution, than to later days. That mighty event, which stirred up the depths of the national mind, and opened the channels of thought in every direction, could not but exert some degree of influence, even on those arts that have least connection with the ordinary business of men. The French taste in music-formalistic, ungenial, and anti-catholic as it was-has undergone _some_ change for the better, through the convulsions that have overthrown Kings, and scattered Courts. It still retains, albeit, much of its old, hard idiosyncrasy. French music is still, for the most part, "_caviare_ to the general." It lacks cosmopolitan character. To ensure it a full and hearty welcome, it needs a French education. If these observations be just, it follows that our lively neighbours, in dealing with stringed instruments, as well as with others, would not attain first-rate success in the way of _composition_ for them-and such has been (I submit) the fact. Their real _forte_ lies in _exposition_-in giving outward manifestation and effect to the ideas of others.

It is the remark of one of their own countrymen (the able Mons. Choron), that the princ.i.p.al merit of the French School of Music, taken altogether, lies in the various branches of _execution_. And, with reference always to this quality, execution, he adds, "the style in which the French have real and undisputed merit, and indeed, in many respects, have a marked superiority, is the instrumental in general, and especially that of the violin. On this point, the French have always had great pretensions, and _often_ founded in justice." After alluding to the alleged excellence of early French violinists, and, in particular, of the twenty-four _pet.i.ts violons_ of Louis XIV, formed by Lully, M.

Choron has the candour to acknowledge that he knows not how to reconcile this with the following statement, given by Corette (a furious partisan, by the way, of the French School of Music), in the Preface to his Methode d'Accompagnement, published at Paris about 1750.-"At the commencement of this century," says that author, "music was very dull and slow, &c.... When Corelli's Sonatas were first brought from Rome (about 1715), n.o.body in Paris could play them. The Duke of Orleans, then Regent, being a great amateur of music, and wis.h.i.+ng to hear them, was obliged to have them _sung_ by three voices. The violinists then began to study them, and, at the expiration of _some years, three_ were found who could play them. Baptiste, one of these, went to Rome to study them under Corelli himself."-Having quoted this embarra.s.sing pa.s.sage, M.

Choron thus continues:-"Be this as it may; since that period, instrumental music has been studied with ardour by the French, and they have made astonis.h.i.+ng progress in it. France has now an excellent school for the violin, _founded upon that of Italy_."

The excellence of the school, thus defined as to its peculiar character, and thus denoted as to its origin, none will probably be disposed to deny, who are conversant with the general state of instrumental performance at the present time. Adverting again to the question of _composition_, we may a.s.sert, and that also on M. Choron's authority, that the French have only been imitators, although they are not without names of some celebrity there likewise. M. Castil-Blaze,[44] in a pa.s.sage wherein he takes a rapid glance at a few of the French violinists, presents us with a tolerable notion of the characteristics of the French system, both as to playing and writing:-"Kreutzer excels in voluble touches, whether continuous or detached into pointed notes.

Rode is distinguished by traits of _coquettish_ character, as well as by a free vocal effect conveyed by full notes, whose whole charm is in the quality of the tone. Lafont exhibits an admirable shake, with much grace and refinement in his style. Baillot dazzles in rapid pa.s.sages, and surprises by the boldness of his double-stringed effects, and the magic of his bow." Here we find, albeit expressed in the most favorable terms, far more of the pretty and the glittering, than of the solid or the elevated.

"Each of these masters," continues M. Castil-Blaze, "has lavished upon his compositions those peculiar traits which he most affected, and has made sparing use of such as were remote from his own style of execution.

It is certain that those favorite traits would not come beneath his hand, in equal proportion, in a composition of Viotti's; nay, he would there meet with some that would not admit of his displaying all the extent of his resources, &c. It is therefore indispensable that the virtuoso, who desires to show himself in the most favorable light, should compose his own music, or, at least, should direct him who is charged with its composition."-This, it needs scarcely to be observed, may be well enough calculated to favor the triumphs of individual vanity, by giving prominence to mechanical dexterity; but it is obviously not founded on a regard for the higher principles of art.

Having glanced at the great national Revolution, as to its agency in modifying French musical taste, let us give a momentary attention, likewise, to another influential agency-that of the _Conservatoire de Musique_-an inst.i.tution which has done much, during the last half century, to foster and develop merit in the Art under consideration. M.

Castil-Blaze, in his work, "De l'Opera en France," thus notifies its origin and effects:-

"In 1793, a union took place of all which France possessed that was most ill.u.s.trious in the line of composers, singers, and instrumentalists. The _Conservatoire_ of France, that monument of our musical glory, was raised on the foundation of the old _Ecole de Chant_. All the scattered doc.u.ments, the varying and sometimes contradictory theories, the principles professed by each master, were brought together, examined, revised;-and then was formed a universal code of music, a system of instruction clear in its elements, methodical as well as rapid in its progression, and certain in its results. * * * * * * * * Then, and only then, were heard in France the sublime productions of Haydn and Mozart, which came forth with all the charms of novelty, though our predecessors had been essaying them for twenty years before."

It may be here incidentally mentioned, that, in 1802, there sprang up so violent a dissention among the professors at the above valuable Inst.i.tution, as to excite some fears about the continuation of its existence. Subjoined is an epigram that was born of that occasion:-

"J'admire leurs talents, et meme leur genie, Mais, au fait, ils ont un grand tort; C'est de s'int.i.tuler professeurs d'harmonie, Et de n'etre jamais d'accord."

Or, as we might phrase it in our own tongue:-

The force, the skill, for which they're fam'd, I praise;-yet one great fault I see: Of _harmony_ Professors nam'd, How comes it that they _can't agree?_

Let us now proceed to consider the princ.i.p.al French violinists in their order-commencing with Lully, who, though not a Frenchman, but rather (as Burney styles him) a Frenchified Tuscan, belonged entirely to France, both by his education, and the results of it. It has been already observed that Baltazarini, the Italian (who became, _Gallice_, Monsieur de Beaujoyeux, and who flourished about eighty years earlier than Lully), was the first who introduced the violin to Court favour and fas.h.i.+on in France; where, however, till the time of Lully, it appears to have had no higher province than that which it enjoyed in a.s.sociation with the dance and the ballet-a condition which may, perhaps, be termed "frivolous and vexatious," but which must be allowed to have coincided pretty exactly with the national taste, at the time.

JEAN BAPTISTE DE LULLY was born of obscure parents at Florence, in 1633 or 34. The bias towards music which he shewed, while yet a child, induced a worthy Cordelier, from no other consideration than the hope of his some time becoming eminent in the art, to undertake his tuition on the guitar-an instrument which, in the sequel, he was always fond of singing to. The Chevalier de Guise, a French gentleman, who had been travelling, brought Lully into France, in 1646, _as a present to his sister_, according to Dr. Burney's phrase and statement, or, in the more qualified language of another account, to serve as a page to Mademoiselle de Montpensier, a niece of Louis XIV, who had commissioned the Chevalier to find her out some pretty little Italian boy for this latter purpose. If such were the lady's instructions, the _countenance_ of the youth did not answer to them; but his vivacity and ready wit, in addition to his skill on the guitar, determined the Chevalier, as it appears, to engage him. On his arrival and presentation to the lady, he found her so dissatisfied with his looks, as to induce a change in her intentions-and, instead of her page, he was made to fill the office of her under-scullion!

Neither the disappointment he experienced, however, nor the employment to which he was destined, affected the spirits of Lully. In the moments of his leisure from the kitchen, he used to sc.r.a.pe upon a wretched fiddle, which he had contrived to procure. That fiddle it was which caused him to emerge from his obscurity! A person employed about the Court, happening one day to hear him, informed the Princess that the youth had an excellent taste for music. She directed that a master should be employed to teach him the violin; and, in the course of a few months, he became so great a proficient, that he was elevated to the rank of Court Musician. In consequence of an unlucky accident, he was dismissed from this situation; he afterwards, however, found means to get admitted into the King's _band of violins_, and applied himself so closely to the study of music, that, in a little time, he began to compose. Some of his airs having been noticed by the King, Louis XIV, the author was sent for, and his performance of them was thought so excellent, that a new band was formed, called "_Les pet.i.ts Violons_,"

and he was placed at the head of it. Under his direction, they soon surpa.s.sed the famous band of twenty-four, which had previously enjoyed an extent of reputation attributable rather to the low state of musical taste and knowledge among the French, at that period, than to the skill of the performers; for they were incompetent (according to De la Borde) to play any thing they had not made a special study of, and gotten by heart. This was about the year 1660, at which time the favorite diversion of the French Court was a species of _ballet_, that consisted of dancing, intermixed with dramatic action, and musical recitative. The agency of Lully's musical talent in these entertainments soon procured him the favor of _le Grand Monarque_, who liked music in so far as it conduced to dancing, and had a taste which found its satisfaction in airs _de rigueur_, containing a stated number of bars, accented with the utmost reference to saltatory convenience.[45]

In the soul of Louis, vanity supplied the place of musical ardour, and led him to consider the establishment of an Opera necessary to the splendour of his Court. Lully became, after that event, the great dramatic musician of France. Of his importance in that relation, however, and of his fortunate league with the lyrical genius of Quinault, &c. it is not within my purpose to treat. Possessing, now, the situation of Composer and joint Director to the French Opera, he relinquished the connection with his former Band, and inst.i.tuted one of his own. On becoming appointed superintendent of the King's private music, he neglected almost entirely the practice of the violin; yet, whenever he could be prevailed on to play, his excellence astonished all who heard him. The Marechal de Grammont had a valet named Lalande, who afterwards attained some distinction as a violin-player. One day, after dinner, the Marechal desired Lully to hear Lalande, and to bestow on him a few directions. Lalande accordingly played; but Lully, whenever he did not please him, s.n.a.t.c.hed the instrument out of his hand, made use of it himself preceptively, and, at length, became warmed into such excitement, through the train of ideas produced by his own playing, that he did not lay down the violin for three hours.[46]

In the year 1686, the King was seized with an indisposition that threatened his life; and on his recovering from it, Lully was required to compose a _Te Deum_, in grateful celebration of the deliverance.

Accordingly he wrote one, which was not more remarkable for its excellence, than for the unhappy accident with which its performance was attended. Nothing had been neglected in the preparations for the execution of it, and, the more to demonstrate his zeal, Lully himself beat the time. With the cane that he used for this purpose, in the heat of action (from the difficulty of keeping the band together), he struck his foot; this caused a blister to arise, which increasing, his physician advised him immediately to have a toe taken off, and, after a delay of some days, his foot, and at length the whole limb. At this dreadful juncture, an empiric offered to perform a cure without amputation. Two thousand pistoles were promised him, if he should accomplish it; but all his efforts were in vain. Lully died on the 22nd of March, 1687, and was interred at Paris, where an elegant monument was erected to his memory.

A strange story is extant, in relation to the closing scene of Lully's life. His confessor prescribed to him, as the condition of his absolution, that he should commit to the flames his latest opera. Lully, after many excuses, at length acquiesced, and, pointing to a drawer in which the rough draught of _Achille et Polixene_ was deposited, it was taken out and burnt, and the confessor went away satisfied. Lully grew better, and was thought out of danger, when one of the young Princes came to visit him. "What, Baptiste," says he to him, "have you thrown your _opera_ into the fire? You were a fool for thus giving credit to a gloomy Jansenist, and burning good music."-"Hush, hus.h.!.+" answered Lully, in a whisper, "I knew well what I was about-I have another copy of it!"

Unhappily, this ill-timed pleasantry was followed by a relapse; and the prospect of inevitable death threw him into such pangs of remorse, that he submitted to be laid on a heap of ashes, with a cord round his neck; and, in this situation, he expressed a deep sense of his late transgression. On being replaced in his bed, he became more composed, and (as the relation goes) he expired singing, to one of his own airs, the emphatic words, "Il faut mourir, pecheur, il faut mourir!"

The high estimation which the once _sous-marmiton_, and afterwards regenerator of the music of France, had enjoyed, enabled him to ama.s.s considerable money. In natural disposition, he was gay and cheerful; and, although he was rather thick and short in person, somewhat rude in speech, and little able to shape his manners to the formal refinements of the French Court, he was not without a certain dignity, which intellect succeeds in conferring.

The musical style of Lully was characterized by vivacity and originality; by virtue of which qualities, his compositions, chiefly operas, and other dramatic entertainments, kept possession of the French stage till the middle of the last century, when Rameau came into vogue.

Lully is considered to have invented the _overture_, or at least to have given to it its most distinctive marks of character. He composed _symphonies for violins_, in three parts; but these are not to be met with in print.

If we may judge of the old French violin-players, _en ma.s.se_, from the kind of business a.s.signed to them by Lully, in his operas, we must draw a very moderate conclusion as to their proficiency; or, to borrow the words of Dr. Burney, we must regard them as "musicians not likely, by their abilities, to continue the miraculous powers ascribed to Orpheus and Amphion." Even for half a century after Lully's time, the French progress on the instrument appears to have been far from considerable.

Their performers had as yet borrowed but little of the true spirit of their great Italian originals; nor do we come to any very important name among them until that of

JEAN MARIE LE CLAIR (or LECLER), who was born at Lyons, in 1697. This artist may, perhaps, be regarded as presenting, in his performance and his compositions, a distinct commencement of the French Violin-school, as divaricating from that of Italy. His father was a musician, and, from his instructions, aided by a.s.sistance from other masters (and from Somis, in particular), he became an excellent performer. He went abroad for several years, to reap improvement from the professors and performances in other countries; after which, on an invitation from the Duke de Grammont, who had been his pupil, he went to Paris, and was allowed a handsome pension from him. By the recommendation of this n.o.bleman, Le Clair obtained the situation of symphonist to Louis the Fifteenth, in which he laboured incessantly to improve the practice of the violin among his countrymen. With this view, he composed, and published in the year 1723, a collection of _solos for the violin_; and soon afterwards another of the same kind, in both of which he has displayed much knowledge of the instrument, combined with the resources of a well-regulated fancy. Besides these two Collections of Solos, Le Clair was the author of _Six Sonatas for two violins and a ba.s.s_; two books of _Duos_, two of _Trios_, two of _Concertos_, and two under the t.i.tle of _Recreations_.