Читать книгу Nicolo Paganini: His Life and Work - Stephen S. Stratton - Страница 6

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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 may also at that time have sketched, if he did not complete, the Studies, or Caprices, Op. 1.

In 1797 the father took the boy from Parma, and set out with him on a tour through Lombardy. Concerts were given in Milan, Bologna, Florence, Pisa, and Leghorn.

The young artist achieved an extraordinary reputation; the father took possession of the more material rewards of art. The "golden dreams" were in process of realisation! Returning to Genoa, young Paganini finished the composition of his Twenty-four Studies, which were of such excessive difficulty that he could not play them. He would try a single passage over in a hundred ways, working for ten or eleven hours at a stretch, and then would come the inevitable collapse. He was still under the stern domination of his father, and his spirit must have chafed under the bondage. His own ardour was sufficient to carry his labours to the verge of exhaustion, and he needed no spur as an incentive to exertion. In all directions save that of music his education was utterly neglected. The moral side of his nature was allowed to grow wild. There was the restraining influence of a mother's love, but there was little else. It might indeed be said that, musically, Paganini was self-educated; but that one of the world's great geniuses should lack the intellectual and moral training that go to make the complete man was sad in the extreme. Paganini's was a nature warped; on the one side phenomenal power, on the other bodily suffering, intellectual and spiritual atrophy. But more of this when we turn from his career to the man himself.

As the youth grew older the spirit of revolt arose. He must and would escape from the tyranny of his avaricious father. But how? A way soon offered itself. At Lucca, the festival of St. Martin, held each November, was an event of such importance, musically, that it drew visitors from all parts of Italy. As the November of 1798 drew near, young Paganini besought his father's permission to attend the festival, but his request was met by a point-blank refusal. The importunities of the youth, aided by the prayers of the mother, at length prevailed, and in care of the elder brother afterwards Dr. Paganini (?)—Nicolo was allowed to leave home.

Free at last, the youth, now in his seventeenth year, went on his way, his whole being thrilled with dreams of success and happiness. At Lucca he was most enthusiastically received, and, elated by his good fortune, Paganini extended his tour, playing in Pisa and other towns. Enabled now to earn his own living, Paganini determined never to return to the home where he had suffered so much. His father must have obtained information as to the youth's whereabouts, for it has been stated that he managed to obtain a large part of the young artist's earnings. The money was freely yielded to a certain extent, and the residue was obtained by threats. But no threat or entreaty could induce Nicolo to return to his paternal home. The bird had escaped, and liberty was sweet. But young Paganini was scarcely fitted for an independent, uncontrolled career. He had no moral ballast, and much would depend upon what kind of company he kept.

One has to bear in mind that at the period now under notice—1798—Europe was in a very unsettled state. The very pillars of society were shaken, and there were many dangers in the path of the young and inexperienced. But that is a very trite observation, for it applies to all times and places. However, Paganini seems to have become acquainted with what Fétis terms "artists of another kind," who encouraged "play" of a more exciting, if less exalted order, than the young musician had hitherto devoted himself to. With his ardent southern temperament Paganini threw himself with the greatest zest into the vortex of gambling, and frequently lost at a sitting the earnings of several concerts and was reduced to the greatest embarrassment. Soon his talent provided fresh resources, and his days ran on in alternations of good and evil fortune. Tall, slight, delicate and handsome,[3] Paganini, despite his frail constitution, was an object of attraction to the fair sex. Incidents in his early manhood probably formed the foundation for some of the stories told of him later. As Fétis puts it; the enthusiasm for art, love and "play," reigned by turns in his soul. He ought to have been careful of himself, but he went to excess in everything. Then came a period of enforced repose, of absolute exhaustion, lasting sometimes for weeks. This would be followed by a display of extraordinary energy, when his marvellous talent took its highest flights, and he plunged once more into the wildest bohemianism. Such a course of life was enough to wreck the artist, and no friend seemed to be at hand to save him from himself. Frequently he had to part with his violin in order to raise money to pay his debts of honour, and it was upon one such occasion that he met with the greatest good fortune he had yet experienced, and acquired a violin which became the instrument of his conversion from the fatal passion for gambling.

Plate III.—See Appendix. Paganini's Violin in the Municipal Museum at Genoa.

Arriving at Leghorn, where he was to give a concert, Paganini yielded to his weakness for the other kind of play and lost his money and his violin. He was in a dilemma indeed, but was fortunate in meeting with an enthusiastic musical amateur, M. Livron, a French merchant, the owner of a superb Guarnerius violin. This instrument M. Livron lent to the young artist, and attended the concert. When Paganini went to return the violin to its owner, M. Livron at once exclaimed, "I shall take care never to profane the strings your fingers have touched. It is to you now that my violin belongs." A noble benefactor, that M. Livron. The Guarnerius became Paganini's inseparable companion; he played upon it throughout all his tours, and its subsequent history will be duly related.

Paganini acquired another instrument on the same easy terms, but attended by different circumstances. Signor Pasini, of Parma, a painter of some distinction, and an amateur violinist, had heard of Paganini's wonderful powers as a reader of music at sight, but refused to credit the statements. Pasini one day placed before Paganini a manuscript concerto, in which difficulties of all kinds were brought together, and putting into the artist's hands a splendid Stradivari violin, said: "This instrument is yours if you can play that at sight, like a master, without studying its difficulties in advance." "If that is so," replied Paganini, "You may bid farewell to it at once." His terrific[4] execution made the music seem as if it played itself as his eye fell upon it. Pasini was petrified with astonishment.

The abandonment of the vice of gambling came about in this way, his own words being quoted. "I shall never forget," said he, "one day placing myself in a position which was to decide my whole career. The Prince De * * * * * had long desired to possess my excellent violin (the Guarnerius), the only one I then had, and which I still possess. One day he desired me to fix a price; but, unwilling to part from my instrument, I declared I would not sell it for less than 250 gold Napoleons. A short time after, the Prince remarked that I was probably indulging in banter in asking so high a price, and added that he was disposed to give 2,000 francs for it. Precisely that very day I found myself in great want of money, in consequence of a heavy loss at play, and I almost resolved to yield my violin for the sum he had offered, when a friend came in to invite me to a party that evening. My capital then consisted of thirty francs, and I had already deprived myself of my jewels, watch, rings, pins, etc. I instantly formed the resolve to risk this last resource, and if fortune went against me, to sell the violin and to set out for St. Petersburg, without instrument and without funds, with the object of retrieving my position. Soon my thirty francs were reduced to three, and I saw myself on the road to the great city, when fortune, changing in the twinkling of an eye, gained me one hundred francs with the little that yet remained. That moment saved my violin and set me up again. From that day I withdrew from play, to which I had sacrificed a portion of my youth: and convinced that a gambler is universally despised, I renounced for ever that fatal passion."

It would be interesting to know when these things occurred, but dates are wanting; it is sufficient to find the artist triumphant in one great crisis in his life. Gambling, to which, however, he was not a party, was destined to trouble the last years of his life, as will be seen further on.

Paganini's career, gambling apart, was by no means of a conventional character. His irregular habits, fits of extraordinary energy followed by langour and depression, led to frequent disappearances from public view. One such disappearance lasted for about four years, and only the romantic aspect of it has been described; the prime cause may have been overlooked. Here is one view of the matter. Enter Napoleon; exit Paganini. In 1800 Napoleon crossed the Alps; in 1804, he proclaimed himself Emperor. He parcelled out Europe, providing for his brothers and sisters, creating sovereigns at his own sweet will. Italy, invaded by a foreign foe, shaken with wars, "alarums and excursions," was not a happy hunting ground for a travelling virtuoso. Paganini vanished from view. In absolute retirement he lived for over three years at the chateau of a Tuscan lady of rank, who was a performer upon the guitar. Paganini threw himself with ardour into the study of that instrument, and became as great a virtuoso upon it as upon the violin. He composed a number of pieces for guitar and violin. According to Fétis, Paganini also devoted himself to the study of agriculture.

But eventually he tired of a life of indolence and dalliance, and in 1804—the country settled now under French government—Paganini returned to Genoa, but whether to the paternal roof is not clear. He was doubtless invigorated by his long rest, and now resumed his arduous course of study. It has been remarked that it was only after Paganini had attained an almost perfect mastery over his instrument that he began to investigate the methods of other virtuosi[5]; even so, he had formed his own style of composition before studying the works of others. Now, he busied himself with the studies of Locatelli, whose extravagances almost equalled his own. It is said that he even gave lessons while in Genoa, and mention is made of one pupil, Catarina Calcagno, who had a brilliant, but brief career.

In 1805, Paganini resumed his artistic tours, and arriving at Lucca, played a concerto at an evening festival in a convent church. So great was the enthusiasm of the audience (or congregation), that the monks had to leave their stalls to put a stop to the applause. At that time, Maria Anna (Elise), sister of Napoleon, was Princess of Lucca, and the Tuscan court was held in that Capital. The fame of Paganini could not fail to have reached the ears of the Princess, and it was but natural that the first virtuoso of Italy should receive an official appointment. So it happened that in the year 1805 he was offered, and accepted, the post of leader of the Court orchestra, and solo violinist. He also gave violin lessons to Prince Bacciochi, the husband of Maria Anna. It was during this period that Paganini began his experiments of employing less than the four strings of his violin. He gave an account of the origin of the practice to a friend at Prague many years later.[6] "It fell to my lot," he said, "to direct the opera whenever the reigning family visited it, as well as to perform at Court three times a week, and to get up a public concert for the higher circles every fortnight. Whenever these were visited by the Princess, she never remained to the close, because the flageolet tones of my violin were too much for her nerves. On the other hand there was another fascinating creature … who, I flattered myself, felt a penchant for me, and was never absent from my performances; on my own side, I had long been her admirer (Paganini was now twenty-three years of age, susceptible, and possibly himself fascinating.) Our mutual fondness became gradually stronger and stronger; but we were forced to conceal it, and by this means its strength and fervour were sensibly enhanced. One day I promised to surprise her at the next concert, with a musical joke, which should convey an allusion to our attachment; and I accordingly gave notice at Court that I should bring forward a musical novelty, under the title of 'A Love Scene.' The whole world was on tiptoe at the tidings; and on the evening appointed, I made my appearance, violin in hand; I had previously robbed it of the two middle strings, so that none but E and G remained. The first string being designed to play the maiden's part, and the second (fourth) the youth's, I began with a species of dialogue, in which I attempted to introduce movements analogous to transient bickerings and reconciliations between the lovers. Now my strings growled, and then sighed; and anon they lisped, hesitated, joked and joyed, till at last they sported with merry jubilee. In the course of time, both souls joined once more in harmony, and the appeased lovers' quarrel led to a pas de deux, which terminated in a brilliant coda. This musical fantasia of mine was greeted with loud applause. The lady, to whom every scene referred, rewarded me by looks full of delight and sweetness, and the Princess was charmed into such amiable condescension, that she loaded me with encomiums—asking me, whether, since I could produce so much with two strings, it would not be possible for me to gratify them by playing on one. I yielded instant assent—the idea tickled my fancy—and, as the Emperor's birthday occurred some weeks afterwards (August 15th,) I composed a sonata for the G string, which I entitled 'Napoleon,' and played before the Court to so much effect, that a cantata, by Cimarosa, given the same evening, fell through without producing any impression on its hearers.[7] This is the genuine and original cause of my prejudice in favour for the G string. People were afterwards importunate to hear more of this performance, and in this way I became day by day a greater adept at it, and acquired constantly increasing confidence in this peculiar mystery of handling the bow." More of the "Napoleon Sonata" later.

Plate IV.—See Appendix. Caricature published 1831.

When the Princess became Grand Duchess of Tuscany, the Court removed to Florence, and Paganini, as a matter of course, was in the retinue. His official career, however, came to an abrupt termination in the early part of 1813. When appointed Court Musical Director, Paganini was accorded the rank of Captain in the Royal Guard, and, as such, was permitted to wear a brilliant uniform. Appearing in this garb at a State function at Florence, in 1813, the artist was "commanded" to change it for the ordinary dress suit. This request Paganini construed as an insult, and refused compliance; whereupon there was a sudden rupture, and instant resignation of office. Paganini, at different times, obtained leave of absence, and undertook various professional tours; and as he met with some strange experiences, we will follow him in his wanderings.