Famous violinists and fine violins : historical notes, anecdotes, and reminiscences

Dedication

TO

SIGNOR GUIDO PAPINI

Hon. President of the College of Violinists

Preface

Music began for me in what may well be termed a paradise on earth ; and often have I thanked Providence that, by its means, the joys of this world have almost equalled the sorrows which, alas ! are inseparable from our existence. A lovely country in Warwickshire, not far from the home of Shakespeare, a splendid mansion, with beautiful gardens and meadows, stabling for six horses, ponds, and woods of majestic elms and beeches, made up an abode such as can only be found in Merry England. It is natural enough that an intense love of melody should have entered my childish heart with the song of the wild birds and the perfumes of the flowers. There was music constantly in our house at Ladywood, and all around us.

When my father returned from the University of Jena, where he had passed a good many years, he brought back with him, not only a fine collection of student songs, but a violin. He was taught the violin during his residence in Germany ; and though I never heard him play more than a few notes, I have viii PREFACE

ample proof that he was one of the best judges of good playing that ever lived ; and he would not allow the slightest bad taste or false note to be produced in his presence without correcting it at once.

My first violin came to me under rather peculiar circumstances, when I was not quite six years of age. I had been very ill with scarlet fever, but had recovered wonderfully since my mother had allowed me to sponge my aching head over a bucket of cold water. One morning my father entered my bedroom ; he said he was going to ride into Birmingham, and asked me what he should bring back for me to play with. Without a moment's hesitation I exclaimed, " A violin ! "

Why did I say that ? Why did I ask for an instrument which was destined ever afterwards to cling to me through life, to soothe my sorrows, to become a source of delight, and to lead me through endless adventures ? Heaven alone knows ! I asked for a violin, and my good father, to my great joy, actually brought one to me. It was cautiously wrapped, with its bow, and a little box of rosin, in a brown paper parcel, so that he could carry it attached to the pommel of his saddle. To describe the feeling of contentment and the enthusiasm with which I opened this precious parcel, as I sat up in bed exulting over my good fortune, would be quite impossible. But, alas ! when it was opened I could do nothing but silently admire the contents.

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There was, sure enough, a magnificent violin, with a brilliant golden varnish which would have shamed Joseph Guarnerius filius A?idrece himself. The strings were perfectly new and clean, and the bow, of a lovely crimson colour, with its white hair and ivory nut, appeared splendid. According to my father's instructions, the bow was passed several times over the rosin before being drawn across the strings, and when at last this operation was performed, there issued from the instrument, which had been carefully tuned, the most extraordinary sound ; it was something between that of an Eolian harp and the buzzing of a bumble-bee.

It pleased me exceedingly, and I was delighted at the ease with which it was produced ; but, at the same time, a feeling of powerlessness came over me as the sounds on the open strings were repeated several times, and the want of variety took possession of my mind. It was like the music of some composers I could name — mostly fifths, and decidedly monotonous.

My excellent father grasped the situation at once, and showing me how to hold the instrument properly, he placed my fingers on the finger-board, pressing them down and pulling them up alternately, whilst I drew the bow across the strings, and caused it to scrape out a simple little melody.

That was my first lesson on the violin.

In a few days, sitting up in bed, and grasping the x PREFACE

instrument firmly, I could play this little air with tolerable satisfaction to myself, whatever it might have been to others ; and when a few months had elapsed I had made what is generally termed " considerable progress/' But yet I had only this little melody of eight bars. It was pretty, it was easy, and it was so simple that it really required no accompaniment. At this juncture a friend, who was a violinist, happened to call at our house, and whilst in the corridor he heard the sound of my music upstairs. Turning to my parents, he said, " If your child is going to learn music, you should have him taught the violin, for he has got something, naturally, which we violinists have to work for, sometimes for years."

However, my mother had decided upon having me taught the piano by a lady from the Royal Academy of Music, whom she was befriending at that time. The piano lessons went very well so long as the right hand only was engaged ; but when it came to studying the bass clef, and using the left hand at the same time as the right, it proved too much for my feelings ; and I hugged my violin with more tenderness than ever. I did more ; I ran out into the open country, far across the flowery meadows, whenever the hour of the piano lesson approached, and stayed there till it was too late and the music mistress had gone ! This convinced my dear parents that the piano was of no use ; so, when

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about six years of age, a violin master was engaged for me.

In those days we lived in England under the fascinating influence of the beautiful, melodious Italian Opera. My father was a friend of the celebrated Malibran (afterwards the wife of De Beriot), and many members of my family, when in London, went night after night to hear her. I remember, also, being taken to hear Madame Castellan, in Norma and La Sonnambulay a few years later. My music master was a member of the orchestra of the Italian Opera ; but he had retired and opened a music shop in Birmingham. His name was Allwood. He was also a good enough pianist to play accompaniments for his pupils, and under his clever guidance I was taught to sing on the violin. After the preliminary drudgery, which he abridged as much as possible, he placed before me the most luscious melodies of the Italian masters, supporting them with his piano part, which kept the violin perfectly in tune, whilst the rising and falling of the accompaniment helped to induce the proper expression.

It appears that the music shop did not answer. Poor Allwood had to return to the orchestra in London, and I thus lost his valuable instruction.

There passed through our part of the country at this time a fine Hungarian orchestra which created some sensation. The leader was a brilliant violinist ;

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my father made his acquaintance, and I had a few lessons from him. Every time he came he took a sheet of paper and wrote out the exercise he desired me to play — he was very fond of the key of A minor — but he could not speak a word of English, which made it rather awkward, as I knew very few words of German then.

Soon, however, I was destined to quit this beautiful and blissful abode, and, like that Hungarian violinist, go across the sea to foreign lands, taking with me Spohr's " Violin School/' and a few little Italian pieces which my mother accompanied beautifully on the piano.

In Brussels I had three lessons a week, for five years, from Henri Standish, the able repetiteur of the class of De Beriot at the Conservatoire de Musique ; and I attended the Italian and French operas very frequently. In 1856 I left for Paris, where I had many musical friends, and where I joined an orchestra for a short time. But science and literature claimed most of my time there. During the last thirty years or so that I have resided almost constantly in my own country, my violin has been in very frequent requisition. My repertoire, which has served me in hundreds of public concerts and soirees musicales, comprises the compositions of De Beriot, Paganini, Panofka, Hauser, Lafont, Artot, Dancla, Bazzini, Alard, Ernst , Papini, and several other less known composers. For four years I

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acted as leader and violin solo to the Bohemian Orchestral Society in London, which gave many brilliant concerts.

It is not surprising that, with so much musical work, and a natural fondness for history, I should have become more and more interested in everything connected with my instrument, and with those whom it has brought into celebrity. Most people will admit that music is not only one of our greatest enjoyments, but that it is almost essential to the welfare of mankind, tending, as it does, to encourage us in the pursuit of all that is fine and beautiful. It was under this impression that, many years ago, I wrote my " Biographical Sketches of Celebrated Violinists/' a work that was very well received ; and it is with the same feelings that I am now induced to bring out the present volume, which I trust will be found more useful, and, perhaps, not less interesting.

Contents

CHAP.

II. • III.

IV.

II The Leader Of The Royal Violins

In the summer of 1646, when the Due de Guise was returning from Florence to Paris, he brought back with him an Italian boy, just thirteen years of age, called Battista, but who in after life became better known as Giovanni Battista Lulli, the friend (for a time) of Moliere and Louis XIV., and the founder of French opera. The lad's merry dark eyes, long flowing hair, and open countenance, together with his peculiar soft Italian accent, and, above all, his tasteful playing upon the violin, even at that early age, attracted the attention of many persons. It is said that he was engaged as a page to Mdlle. de Montpensier (niece of Louis XIV.), but that lady getting tired of him, he was given a subordinate place in the kitchen, where he soon proved a very clever cook for certain dishes then in vogue.

After some two and a half years of drudgery in the royal kitchens, enlivened occasionally by a little music, by the performance of some sprightly Italian melody, or by some wild pranks played upon the

pompous chef de cuisine, who little dreamed that

LEADER OF THE ROYAL VIOLINS 33

one of his boys was destined to become a celebrated chef d'orckestre, it was discovered that "Battista" possessed an extraordinary talent for the violin. This first attracted the attention of several of the palace officials, the Comte de Nogent among others; and it led to Lulli being placed under proper tuition, and finally made a court musician.

At the age of nineteen he played for the first time before the King, and so delighted him that he was soon engaged to form a band of musicians, which was called Les Petits Violons du Rot (mostly formed of young men), to distinguish them from the twenty-four violinists who for some time previously had formed the band known as Les Violons de la Chambre. The latter had attracted the notice of our king, Charles II., and he determined to establish at the English court a similar band of violinists.

Now, at this extremely interesting and exciting period of our history, there were not many great violinists in England. It would have been exceedingly difficult, or quite impossible, in the days of Charles II., to have got together in London anything like the orchestra at Covent Garden Theatre, for instance. Nevertheless, there were two Englishmen, father and son, named Bannister, who had made for themselves in these early days considerable reputations as violin players.

John Bannister, the father, was an excellent musician, and taught his son, John the younger, having been taught himself by his father, who used at Christmas time to play as one of the waits in the parish of St. Giles — quite a rural spot of London at that time. So, we see there was music running in the family. Well, the merry King Charles II. having formed his violin orchestra somehow or other, and got a German named Baltzar, from Lubeck, to lead it, came to hear of the talent which John Bannister displayed as a violinist, and had him forthwith sent to France to improve his musical education. On his return to England the King appointed him leader of the Royal Violins.

In Great Britain, at the time when King Charles determined upon forming a band of violinists to play to him after dinner, as he had seen done at the court of Louis XIV. during his years of exile in France, the finest performer on the violin was an amateur named David Mell, a clock-maker. Perhaps he was a very good player, but lacked that thorough knowledge of music which can only be got by a long course of study, and pertains in consequence only to those who make music their sole profession. We could certainly quote the names of many distinguished men, such as Thalberg, Bataille, Hans von Bulow, and others, who have drifted from the ranks of the amateur to those of the professional ; but David Mell, fine as his performance may have been, was not offered the appointment, and the German Baltzar was sent for to lead

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the first violin band established by an English sovereign.

An amusing old writer tells us that " after Baltzar came to England and showed his wonderful parts on that instrument, Mell was not so much admired ; yet he played sweeter, was a well-bred gentleman, and not given to excessive drinking as Baltzar was." Probably the King looked over the German musician's shortcomings in this respect; for when Baltzar died, in 1663, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, and John Bannister the elder succeeded him as leader of the Royal Violins.

It was a splendid appointment, and Bannister appears to have done ample justice to it. His contemporaries (though contemporaries are not always to be relied upon for truthful history, as many of our young literary men find out to their cost) published the opinion that this clever Englishman quite equalled the best of Italian violinists ; and one day Bannister himself actually ventured to tell King Charles that the English violinists of his court were superior to those of the French court, for which bold and truthful speech he lost his appointment !

This unkind action of the sovereign was not a bad thing for musicians : as soon as Bannister got his discharge he set about giving concerts, and he was the first who established in London concerts in which the audience paid for their seats.

Of one of these entertainments, given in 1677, we have the announcement in which it is stated, in the language of the period, that the performance will " begin with a parley of instruments composed by Mr. Bannister, and performed by eminent masters."

John Bannister the elder died in 1679, whilst the country was reeking with popish plots, conspiracies against the King, violent political excitement, and disturbances. He also was interred in Westminster Abbey, where there was plenty of room in those days. His son, John the younger, had grown up a clever violinist like his father, and was ultimately appointed to the band of King William III.; he was also first violin at Drury Lane Theatre for many years.

With the solitary exception of David Mell, before mentioned, John Bannister the elder, leader of the Royal Violins, was the first Englishman who ever distinguished himself as a performer on the violin. He is also remarked, historically, as having been the first musician who attempted something like what we now know as a public concert. This attempt was made in the year 1672.

Roger North, who was Attorney-General under James II., left a MS. work entitled "Memoirs of Musick," which was published after his death. In this work we are told that "John Bannister had a good theatrical vein, and in composition he had a lively style peculiar to himself. He possessed a large room at Whyte Friars, next to Temple Bar Gate, and made a large raised box for the musicians,

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whose modesty required curtains. This room was rounded with small tables — alehouse fashion. One shilling was the price, and call for what you pleased ; there was very good music, for Bannister found means to procure the best hands in towne, and some voices to come and perform there ; and there wanted no variety of humour, for Bannister himself {inter alia) did wonders upon the flageolet to thoro' bass, and the several masters had their solos. This continued full one winter, and more I remember not." We know, however, that these concerts continued for many years. The first of all, which took place on the 30th September 1672, was announced as follows: — "These are to give notice that at Mr. John Bannister's house (now called the Music School) over against The George Tavern in Whyte Friars, this present Monday will be performed musick by excellent masters, beginning precisely at four o'clock in the afternoon, and every afternoon for the future precisely at the same hour." That announcement appeared in the London Gazette} 30th September 1672. A younger contemporary of Bannister, a musician named Shuttleworth, whose father was a teacher of music in Spitalfields, afterwards led similar concerts at The Swan Tavern in Cornhill, in 1735 ; and in process of time others followed, until concerts became general throughout Great Britain, thanks to the happy initiative of John Bannister, the leader of the Royal Violins.

Ill

Many of my readers will be surprised to find the celebrated composer Luigi Cherubini mentioned as a violinist. However, a man may be a tolerably good performer on the violin without attaining to anything approaching celebrity in that capacity. But the author of Lodoiska, Medea, The Water Carriers, Anacreon, and a host of other operatic and religious works, did really know something of the secrets of the violin, and, in fact, it may be safely asserted that he owed his life to that very circumstance.

Among other well-known composers of opera, I may mention that Balfe began his career as a violinist, and so did Auber ; and this may go far to explain the melodious scores of the composers of The Bohemian Girl and Fra Diavolo.

Maybe it was Cherubini' s love for this wonderful instrument that helped to make him so intimate with the great virtuoso Viotti, with whom he resided at Paris for three whole years — not, indeed, for the

sake of violin lessons. This intimacy was chiefly due to the fact that they were both Italians, living in a foreign land, where they were duly recognised as two of the finest musicians of that day.

At Florence, where Cherubini was born in 1760, and where he received his first lessons in solfeggio and the harpsichord from his worthy father, Bartolomeo Cherubini, maestro al clavicembalo at the Pergola Theatre, the hard-working parent of twelve children, of whom Luigi was the tenth, the family resided in a modest cottage in the Via Fiesolana. When about eight or nine years of age, this tenth child Luigi found in the house what one of his biographers terms a " wretched " old violin, and " amused himself by scraping on it."

Please, dear reader, take note of the date — say 1768 or 1769 — and the country — Tuscany, not very far from the celebrated violin-making city of Cremona !

A " wretched violin " ! Who can say, if the said instrument were now in the hands of a London dealer, it would not be considered cheap at ^500 or ;£6oo ?

In Northern Italy, at that time, it is doubtful whether such a thing as a u wretched old violin" could have existed.

Only just fancy the thousands of pounds sterling that have been spent in buying up the Italian violins of that period !

It was probably an Amati, or a Stradivari, with a pure, soft, yet brilliant tone ; and the boy's naturally musical ears were, doubtless, pleased by the sound, even such as it was yielded by his own rough and inexperienced handling of the instrument. It is certain that he must have persevered, though who taught him we know not, unless it were his clever father.

But the fact is preserved that, although the violin is justly considered to be a most difficult instrument to learn, young Cherubini in less than two years was able, one evening, when a violinist was absent from the orchestra, to accompany his father to the theatre, and take the place of the missing man. It is even recorded that he played his part throughout so well that Nardini, the conductor, could find no fault save "a certain timidity and hesitation," only natural under the circumstances of a first appearance in public.

We hear no more of Cherubini as a performer on the violin until many years later, after he had quitted his native Italy and paid one or two visits to London as a composer on the highway to fame, and had finally fixed his residence at Paris. It was at the time of the great French Revolution ; and the fact of his having learnt to play the violin when a child was the means of saving his life in the hour of danger.

His compositions, though far too learned for the light French taste, had by the year 1790, when he began to write an opera for Louis XVI., on the subject of Marguerite cPAnjou, firmly established his reputation as one of the greatest musicians of the period.

But when the Revolution broke out, Cherubini's prospects became almost as clouded as those of the Monarchy. His position depended to a great extent upon the aristocracy, who patronised him as he deserved ; but now these noble friends were flying from France, or being murdered by the mob.

During the first four years of anarchy he suffered great distress. Forced to live in seclusion, his livelihood became precarious, and his time was passed chiefly in the study of music and botany (a branch of science of which he was extremely fond) without remuneration, and anxiously awaiting the advent of better days.

He was compelled to limit his acquaintance, in those horrible times, to a very few trustworthy friends, musicians like himself, on whom he could thoroughly rely, and among whom there was not one who, by denouncing him as an aristocrat or a royalist, would have caused him, like so many equally good men, to be slaughtered on the scaffold at a few hours' notice.

Even to stir out of doors was a risky thing to do, for reckless mobs of half-drunken anarchists rolled along the streets day and night, seeking to satisfy their rapacious longings for the blood of respected citizens and for their goods.

Once, during an occasion of more than ordinary excitement, Cherubini fell into the hands of a band of these raving robbers, who were seeking for musicians to conduct their revolutionary howlings. To them it was a special satisfaction to compel men of talent, who had formerly delighted royalty and nobility, to administer now to their own gratification. On the great composer firmly refusing to lead them, a murmur ran through the crowd, and he was taunted by half a dozen voices as being a " royalist." Such a taunt had only to be taken up by the remainder, to signify speedy death.

At this intensely critical moment, one of Cherubini's friends, a musician who had already been forcibly enrolled by the ruffians, and happened to be standing near him, thrust a "wretched violin" into his unwilling hands, and by most earnest entreaties finally induced him to lead the anarchist mob.

The whole of the day these two unfortunate musicians were compelled to accompany the howling fanatics ; and when at last a halt was made in one of the squares, where a " banquet " was given, Cherubini and his friend were made to stand on two empty barrels and play away till the feast, or farce, was finished. It is impossible to realise anything more horribly ludicrous ! That was Cherubim's last performance on the violin.

In 1792 the talented Viotti fled to England ; and in 1793, just over a hundred years ago, when the storm had burst in all its fury, and the unfortunate, good-natured king, at the age of thirty-eight, mounted the scaffold, Cherubini had taken refuge at the country house of a friend, an architect, near Rouen, where he lived in tranquillity and safety, and only returned to Paris the following year.

In 1795 he was made inspector of the newly formed Conservatoire, a musical school which was an offshoot of the Revolution, and from that time forward his position was assured. His great talent and perseverance enabled him to conquer all obstacles, even the hatred and jealousy of the Petit Caporal himself.

Why Napoleon Buonaparte should have detested Cherubini, and persecuted him in the way he did, it is not easy to imagine. But nothing less than the greatest talent could have resisted such noxious influence.

Those who wish to see how the middle classes, bankers, lawyers, musicians, &c, fared during the great French Revolution, I may refer to my " Scenes from the Reign of Louis XVI." (London : Bentley & Son, 1878).

IV

That Paganini had a greater share of success than any violinist who preceded him will be readily admitted, just as we may say that Shakespeare as a writer of plays stood far above any of his predecessors. Paganini had a natural gift for music nearly as great as that of our " immortal Will " for blank verse. He inherited it from his father, and, probably, also from his mother, who were both known in Genoa to be great votaries of the divine art. After this gift had been duly cultivated, it enabled him to astonish his contemporaries by his performances on the violin and on the guitar.

When we remember that his father was a clever player on the mandoline, the latter accomplishment is less surprising ; but the details of the boyish life of Nicolo Paganini are little known, except that he appears to have been severely encouraged in his music by the said father, and kindly treated by his mother. He was of a highly nervous and sensitive nature, and was taught, while still very young, by his stern parent, who was but a poor clerk in a shipping office, that it is necessary to persevere and to push oneself forward to secure success, or even a decent living. There was a certain amount of cunning also in his character ; and that he took advantage of every opportunity that offered was manifest already in his youth, when he was easily induced, not only to forsake the modest paternal roof, but to try his hand at the gaming-table as well as in the concert room.

Add to these attributes of Paganini the fact that he was well instructed when quite a young boy in the rudiments of music, compelled by his relentless father to work hard at his exercises — too hard, indeed, for it injured his health and moral character — and, later, that he had some of the best lessons in harmony and composition that Italy could afford in his day, and we find much to account for his wonderfully successful career and the -£80,000 that he left to his only son.

But beyond all this, we have been assured by more than one writer that Paganini carried with him to the grave an important secret which alone would explain, if not the whole of his success, at least nine-tenths of it.

The late Professor Fetis, of the Brussels Conservatoire, who had some knowledge of the violin, and was a most ardent admirer of Paganini, whom he did not quite understand, believed that no such secret could possibly exist. We shall see ! He asserted, doubtless with much truth, that there is no royal road to brilliant execution, and that nothing but downright hard work, combined with an extraordinary natural gift, could account for the wonderful impression Paganini made in the world of music, and on violinists in particular.

On the other hand, we are reminded that the violoncellist Ciandelli, who was very kind to Paganini during one of his attacks of illness at Naples, and who was known to be a very indifferent soloist, though a good musician and orchestral player, had given to him by the great Genoese artiste, in return for this kindness, some insight into the secret in question, and was thereby transformed, in less than a fortnight, from a very mediocre performer into a virtuoso of the first rank.

Let us add to this, that among the very few persons to whom Nicolo Paganini gave any instruction, the young girl, Signora Calcagno, of Genoa, astonished the musical world in that part of Europe by the boldness and brilliancy of her playing ; and some time afterwards, the late Camillo Sivori, one of the finest, if not the very finest violin player ever heard, and of whom I shall speak again in this volume, also made a great and lasting impression.