GREAT VIOLINISTS AND PIANISTS

By George T. Ferris

Copyright, 1881, By D. Appleton and Company. 

NOTE

The title of this little book may be misleading to some of its readers, in its failure to include sketches of many eminent artists well worthyto be classed under such a head. There has been no attempt to coverthe immense field of executive music, but only to call attention to thelives of those musical celebrities who are universally recognized asoccupying the most exalted places in the arts of violin and pianoforteplaying; who stand forth as landmarks in the history of music. To domore than this, except in a merely encyclopedic fashion, within theallotted space, would have been impossible. The same necessity of limitshas also compelled the writer to exclude consideration of the careersof noted living performers; as it was thought best that discriminationshould be in favor of those great artists whose careers have beencompletely rounded and finished. 

An exception to the above will be noted in the case of Franz Liszt; but, aside from the fact that this greatest of piano-forte virtuosos, thoughliving, has practically retired from the held of art, to omit him fromsuch a volume as this would be an unpardonable omission. In connectionwith the personal lives of the artists sketched in this volume, theattempt has been made, in a general, though necessarily imperfect, manner, to trace the gradual development of the art of playing from itscruder beginnings to the splendid virtuosoism of the present time. The sources from which facts have been drawn are various, and, itis believed, trustworthy, including French, German, and Englishauthorities, in some cases the personal reminiscences of the artiststhemselves. 

CONTENTS. 

THE VIOLINISTS AND PIANISTS. 

The Ancestry of the Violin. --The Origin of the Cremona School ofViolin-Making. --The Amatis and Stradiuarii. --Extraordinary ArtActivity of Italy at this Period. --Antonius Stradiuarius and JosephGuarnerius. --Something about the Lives of the Two Greatest Violin-Makersof the World. --Corelli, the First Great Violinist. --His Contemporariesand Associates. --Anecdotes of his Career. --Corelli'sPupil, Geminiani. --Philidor, the Composer, Violinist, andChess-Player. --Giuseppe Tartini. --Becomes an Outcast from his Familyon Account of his Love of Music. --Anecdote of the ViolinistVera-cini. --Tartini's Scientific Discoveries in Music. --His Account ofthe Origin of the "Devil's Trill. "--Tartini's Pupils. 

VIOTTI. 

Viotti, the Connecting Link between the Early and Modern ViolinSchools. --His Immense Superiority over his Contemporaries andPredecessors. --Other Violinists of his Time, Giornowick andBoccherini. --Viotti's Early Years. --His Arrival in Paris, and theSensation he made. --His Reception by the Court. --Viotti's Personal Prideand Dignity. --His Rebuke to Princely Impertinence. --The Musical Circlesof Paris. --Viotti's Last Public Concert in Paris. --He suddenly departsfor London. --Becomes Director of the King's Theatre. --Is compelled toleave the Country as a Suspected Revolutionist. --His Return to England, and Metamorphosis into a Vintner. --The French Singer, Garat, finds himout in his London Obscurity. --Anecdote of Viotti's Dinner Party. --Hequits the Wine Trade for his own Profession. --Is made Director of theParis Grand Opéra. --Letter from Rossini. --Viotti's Account of the "Ranzdes Vaches. "--Anecdotes of the Great Violinist. --Dies in London in1824. --Viotti's Place as a Violinist, and Style of Playing. --The TourtéBow first invented during his Time. --An Indispensable Factor in GreatPlaying on the Violin. --Viotti's Pupils, and his Influence on theMusical Art. 

LUDWIG SPOHR. 

Birth and Early Life of the Violinist Spohr. --He is presented with hisFirst Violin at six. --The French _Emigré_ Dufour uses his Influence withDr. Spohr, Sr. , to have the Boy devoted to a Musical Career. --Goesto Brunswick for fuller Musical Instruction. --Spohr is appointed_Kammer-musicus_ at the Ducal Court. --He enters under the Tuition ofand makes a Tour with the Violin Virtuoso Eck. --Incidents of the RussianJourney and his Return. --Concert Tour in Germany. --Loses his FineGuarnerius Violin. --Is appointed Director of the Orchestra at Gotha. --Hemarries Dorette Schiedler, the Brilliant Harpist. --Spohr's Stratagem tobe present at the Erfurt Musical Celebration given by Napoleon inHonor of the Allied Sovereigns. --Becomes Director of Opera inVienna. --Incidents of his Life and Production of Various Works. --FirstVisit to England. --He is made Director of the Cassel CourtOratorios. --He is retired with a Pension. --Closing Years of hisLife. --His Place as Composer and Executant. 

NICOLO PAGANINI. 

The Birth of the Greatest of Violinists. --His Mother'sDream. --Extraordinary Character and Genius. --Heine's Description of hisPlaying. --Leigh Hunt on Paganini. --Superstitious Rumors currentduring his Life. --He is believed to be a Demoniac. --His StrangeAppearance. --Early Training and Surroundings. --Anecdotes ofhis Youth. --Paga-nini's Youthful Dissipations. --His Passion forGambling. --He acquires his Wonderful Guarnerius Violin. --His Reformfrom the Gaming-table. --Indefatigable Practice and Work as a YoungArtist. --Paganini as a _Preux Chevalier_. --His Powerful Attraction forWomen. --Episode with a Lady of Rank. --Anecdotes of his Early ItalianConcertizing. --The Imbroglio at Ferrara. --The Frail Health ofPaganini. --Wonderful Success at Milan where he first plays One ofthe Greatest of his Compositions, "Le Streghe. "--Duel withLafont. --Incidents and Anecdotes. --His First Visit to Germany. --GreatEnthusiasm of his Audiences. --Experiences at Vienna, Berlin, and otherGerman Cities. --Description of Paganini, in Paris, by Castil-Blaze andFetis. --His English Reception and the Impression made. --Opinions of theCritics. --Paganini not pleased with England. --Settles in Paris for TwoYears, and becomes the Great Musical Lion. --Simplicity and Amiabilityof Nature. --Magnificent Generosity to Hector Berlioz. --The GreatFortune made by Paganini. --His Beautiful Country Seat near Parma. --AnUnfortunate Speculation in Paris. --The Utter Failure of hisHealth. --His Death at Nice. --Characteristics and Anecdotes. --InterestingCircumstances of his Last Moments. --The Peculiar Genius of Paganini, andhis Influence on Art. 

DE BÉRIOT. 

De Bériot's High Place in the Art of the Violin and Violin Music. --TheScion of an Impoverished Noble Family. --Early Education and MusicalTraining. --He seeks the Advice of Viotti in Paris. --Becomes a Pupil ofRobrechts and Baillot successively. --De Bériot finishes and perfects hisStyle on his Own Model. --Great Success in England. --Artistic Travelsin Europe. --Becomes Soloist to the King of the Netherlands. --He meetsMalibran, the Great Cantatrice, in Paris. --Peculiar Circumstances whichdrew the Couple toward Each Other. --They form a Connection which onlyends with Malibran's Life. --Sketch of Malibran and her Family. --TheVarious Artistic Journeys of Malibran and De Bériot. --Their Marriageand Mme. De Bériot's Death. --De Bériot becomes Professor in the BrusselsConservatoire. --His Later Life in Brussels. --His Son Charles Malibran deBériot. --The Character of De Bériot as Composer and Player. 

OLE BULL. 

The Birth and Early Life of Ole Bull at Bergen, Norway. --His Family andConnections. --Surroundings of his Boyhood. --Early Display of his MusicalPassion. --Learns the Violin without Aid. --Takes Lessons from an OldMusical Professor, and soon surpasses his Master. --Anecdotes of hisBoyhood. --His Father's Opposition to Music as a Profession. --Competesfor Admittance to the University at Christiania. --Is consoledfor Failure by a Learned Professor. --"Better be a Fiddler thana Preacher. "--Becomes Conductor of the Philharmonic Society atBergen. --His first Musical Journey. --Sees Spohr. --Fights a Duel. --Visitto Paris. --He is reduced to Great Pecuniary Straits. --Strange Adventurewith Vidocq, the Great Detective. --First Appearance in Concert inParis. --Romantic Adventure leading to Acquaintance. --First Appearancein Italy. --Takes the Place of De Bériot by Great Good Luck. --Ole Bullis most enthusiastically received. --Extended Concert Tour in Italy andFrance. --His _Début_ and Success in England. --One Hundred and EightyConcerts in Six Months. --Ole Bull's Gaspar di Salo Violin, and theCircumstances under which he acquired it. --His Answer to the King ofSweden. --First Visit and Great Success in America in 1848. --Attemptto establish a National Theatre. --The Norwegian Colony inPennsylvania. --Latter Years of Ole Bull. --His Personal Appearance. --ArtCharacteristics. 

MUZIO CLEMENTI. 

The Genealogy of the Piano-forte. --The Harpsichord its ImmediatePredecessor. --Supposed Invention of the Piano-forte. --Silbermann theFirst Maker. --Anecdote of Frederick the Great. --The Piano-forte onlyslowly makes its Way as against the Clavichord and Harpsichord. --EmanuelBach, the First Composer of Sonatas for the Piano-forte. --His Viewsof playing on the New Instrument. --Haydn and Mozart as Players. --MuzioClementi, the Earliest Virtuoso, strictly speaking, as a Pianist. --Bornin Rome in 1752. --Scion of an Artistic Family. --First MusicalTraining. --Rapid Development of his Talents. --Composes ContrapuntalWorks at the Age of Fourteen. --Early Studies of the Organ andHarpsichord. --Goes to England to complete his Studies. --Createsan Unequaled Furore in London. --John Christian Bach's Opinion ofClementi. --Clementi's Musical Tour. --His Duel with Mozart before theEmperor. --Tenor of Clementi's Life in England. --Clementi's Pupils. --Tripto St. Petersburg. --Sphor's Anecdote of Him. --Mercantile andManufacturing Interest in the Piano as Partner of Collard. --The Playersand Composers trained under Clementi. --His Composition. --Status asa Player. --Character and Influence as an Artist. --Development of theTechnique of the Piano, culminating in Clementi. 

MOSCHELES. 

Clementi and Mozart as Points of Departure in Piano-fortePlaying. --Moscheles the most Brilliant Climax reached by the VienneseSchool. --His Child-Life at Prague. --Extraordinary Precocity. --Goes toVienna as the Pupil of Salieri and Albrechtsburger. --Acquaintance withBeethoven. --Moscheles is honored with a Commission to make a PianoTranscription of Beethoven's "Fidelio. "--His Intercourse with the GreatMan. --Concert Tour. --Arrival in Paris. --The Artistic Circle into whichhe is received. --Pictures of Art-Life in Paris. --London and its MusicalCelebrities. --Career as a Wandering Virtuoso. --Felix Mendelssohn becomeshis Pupil. --The Mendelssohn Family. --Moseheles's Marriage to aHamburg Lady. --Settles in London. --His Life as Teacher, Player, andComposer. --Eminent Place taken by Moscheles among the Musicians ofhis Age. --His Efforts soothe the Sufferings of Beethoven'sDeath-bed. --Friendship for Mendelssohn. --Moscheles becomes connectedwith the Leipzig Conservatorium. --Death in 1870. --Moscheles as Pianistand Composer. --Sympathy with the Old as against the New School of thePiano. --His Powerful Influence on the Musical Culture and Tendencies ofhis Age. 

THE SCHUMANNS AND CHOPIN. 

Robert Schumann's Place as a National Composer. --Peculiar Greatness asa Piano-forte Composer. --Born at Zwickau in 1810. --His Father'sAversion to his Musical Studies. --Becomes a Student of Jurisprudencein Leipzig. --Makes the Acquaintance of Clara Wieck. --Tedium of his LawStudies. --Vacation Tour to Italy. --Death of his Father, and Consentof his Mother to Schumann adopting the Profession of Music. --BecomesWieck's Pupil. --Injury to his Hand which prevents all Possibilities ofhis becoming a Great Performer. --Devotes himself to Composition. --TheChild, Clara Wieck--Remarkable Genius as a Player. --Her EarlyTraining. --Paganini's Delight in her Genius. --Clara Wieck'sConcert Tours. --Schumann falls deeply in Love with her, andWieck's Opposition. --His Allusions to Clara in the "NeueZeit-schrift. "--Schumann at Vienna. --His Compositions at firstUnpopular, though played by Clara Wieck and Liszt. --Schumann's Laborsas a Critic. --He marries Clara in 1840. --His Song Period inspired byhis Wife. --Tour to Russia, and Brilliant Reception given to theArtist Pair. --The "Neue Zeitschrift" and its Mission. --TheDavidsbund. --Peculiar Style of Schumann's Writing. --He moves toDresden. --Active Production in Orchestral Composition. --Artistic Tour inHolland. --He is seized with Brain Disease. --Characteristics as a Man, as an Artist, and as a Philosopher. --Mme. Schumann as her Husband'sInterpreter. --Chopin a Colaborer with Schumann. --Schumann on Chopinagain. --Chopin's Nativity. --Exclusively a Piano-forte Composer. --HisGenre as Pianist and Composer. --Aversion to Concert-giving. --ParisianAssociations. --New Style of Technique demanded by his Works. --UniqueTreatment of the Instrument. --Characteristics of Chopin's Compositions. 

THALBERG AND GOTTSCHALK. 

Thalberg one of the Greatest of Executants. --Rather a Man of RemarkableTalents than of Genius. --Moseheles's Description of him. --TheIllegitimate Son of an Austrian Prince. --Early Introduction toMusical Society in London and Vienna. --Beginning of his Career as aVirtuoso. --The Brilliancy of his Career. --Is appointed Court Pianist tothe Emperor of Austria. --His Marriage. --Visits to America. --Thalberg'sArtistic Idiosyncrasy. --Robert Schumann on his Playing. --His Appearanceand Manner. --Characterization by George William Curtis. --Thalberg'sStyle and Worth as an Artist. --His Piano-forte Method, and Place as aComposer for the Piano. --Gottschalk's Birth and Early Years. --He is sentto Paris for Instruction. --Successful _Début_ and Publie Concertsin Paris and Tour through the French Cities. --Friendship withBerlioz. --Concert Tour to Spain. --Romantic Experiences. --Berlioz onGottschalk. --Reception of Gottschalk in America. --Criticism of hisStyle. --Remarkable Success of his Concerts. --His Visit to the WestIndies, Mexico, and Central America. --Protracted Absence. --Gottschalkon Life in the Tropics. --Return to the United States. --Three BrilliantMusical Years. --Departure for South America. --Triumphant Processionthrough the Spanish-American Cities. --Death at Rio Janeiro. --Notes onGottschalk as Man and Artist. 

FRANZ LISZT. 

The Spoiled Favorite of Fortune. --His Inherited Genius. --Birth andEarly Training. --First Appearance in Concert. --Adam Liszt and his Sonin Paris. --Sensation made by the Boy's Playing. --His Morbid ReligiousSufferings. --Franz Liszt thrown on his own Resources. --The ArtisticCircle in Paris. --Liszt in the Ranks of Romanticism. --His Friends andAssociates. --Mme. D'Agoult and her Connection with FranzLiszt. --He retires to Geneva. --Is recalled to Paris by the Thalberg_Furore_. --Rivalry between the Artists and their Factions. --He commenceshis Career as Traveling Virtuoso. --The Blaze of Enthusiasm throughoutEurope. --Schumann on Liszt as Man and Artist. --He ranks the HungarianVirtuoso as the Superior of Thalberg. --Liszt's Generosity to his ownCountrymen. --The Honors paid to him in Pesth. --Incidents of hisMusical Wanderings. --He loses the Proceeds of Three HundredConcerts. --Contributes to the Completion of the Cologne Cathedral. --HisConnection with the Beethoven Statue at Bonn, and the Celebration ofthe Unveiling. --Chorley on Liszt. --Berlioz and Liszt. --Character of theEnthusiasm called out by Liszt as an Artist. --Remarkable Personalityas a Man. --Berlioz characterizes the Great Virtuoso in a Letter. --Lisztceases his Life as a Virtuoso, and becomes Chapel-Master and CourtConductor at Weimar. --Avowed Belief in the New School of Music, andProduction of Works of this School. --Wagner's Testimony to Liszt'sAssistance. --Liszt's Resignation of his Weimar Post after TenYears. --His Subsequent Life. --He takes Holy Orders. --Liszt as a Virtuosoand Composer. --Entitled to be placed among the most Remarkable Men ofhis Age. 

THE GREAT VIOLINISTS AND PIANISTS. 

THE VIOLIN AND EARLY VIOLINISTS. 

The Ancestry of the Violin. --The Origin of the Cremona School ofViolin-Making. --The Amatis and Stradiuarii. --Extraordinary ArtActivity of Italy at this Period. --Antonius Stradiuarius and JosephGuarnerius. --Something about the Lives of the Two Greatest Violin-Makersof the World. --Corelli, the First Great Violinist. --His Contemporariesand Associates. --Anecdotes of his Career. --Corelli'sPupil, Geminiani. --Philidor, the Composer, Violinist, andChess-Player. --Giuseppe Tartini. --Becomes an Outcast from his Familyon Account of his Love of Music. --Anecdote of the ViolinistVeracini. --Tartini's Scientific Discoveries in Music. --His Account ofthe Origin of the "Devil's Trill. "--Tartini's Pupils. 

I. 

The ancestry of the violin, considering this as the type of stringedinstruments played with a bow, goes back to the earliest antiquity; andinnumerable passages might be quoted from the Oriental and classicalwriters illustrating the important part taken by the forefathers of themodern violin in feast, festival, and religious ceremonial, in the fierydelights of battle, and the more dulcet enjoyments of peace. But itwas not till the fifteenth century, in Italy, that the art of makinginstruments of the viol class began to reach toward that high perfectionwhich it speedily attained. The long list of honored names connectedwith the development of art in the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenthcenturies is a mighty roll-call, and among these the names of the greatviolin-makers, beginning with Gaspard de Salo, of Brescia, who firstraised a rude craft to an art, are worthy of being included. FromBrescia came the masters who established the Cremona school, a name notonly immortal in the history of music, but full of vital significance;for it was not till the violin was perfected, and a distinct school ofviolin-playing founded, that the creation of the symphony, the highestform of music, became possible. 

The violin-makers of Cremona came, as we have said, from Brescia, beginning with the Ama-tis. Though it does not lie within the provinceof this work to discuss in any special or technical sense the history ofviolin-making, something concerning the greatest of the Cremona masterswill be found both interesting and valuable as preliminary to thesketches of the great players which make up the substance of thevolume. The Amatis, who established the violin-making art at Cremona, successively improved, each member of the class stealing a march onhis predecessor, until the peerless masters of the art, AntoniusStradiuarius and Joseph Guarnerius del Jesû, advanced far beyond therivalry of their contemporaries and successors. The pupils of theAmatis, Stradiuarius, and Guarnerius settled in Milan, Florence, andother cities, which also became centers of violin-making, but never toan extent which lessened the preeminence of the great Cremona makers. There was one significant peculiarity of all the leading artists of thisviolin-making epoch: each one as a pupil never contented himself withmaking copies of his master's work, but strove incessantly to strikeout something in his work which should be an outcome of his own genius, knowledge, and investigation. It was essentially a creative age. 

Let us glance briefly at the artistic activity of the times when theviolin-making craft leaped so swiftly and surely to perfection. If weturn to the days of Gaspard di Salo, Morelli, Magini, and the Amatis, wefind that when they were sending forth their fiddles, Raphael, Leonardoda Vinci, Titian, and Tintoretto were busily painting their greatcanvases. While Antonius Stradiuarius and Joseph Guarnerius wereoccupied with the noble instruments which have immortalized their names, Canaletto was painting his Venetian squares and canals, Giorgio wassuperintending the manufacture of his inimitable maiolica, and theVenetians were blowing glass of marvelous beauty and form. In themusical world, Corelli was writing his gigues and sarabandes, Geminianicomposing his first instruction book for the violin, and Tartinidreaming out his "Devil's Trill"; and while Guadognini (a pupil ofAntonius Stradiuarius), with the stars of lesser magnitude, wereexercising their calling, Viotti, the originator of the school of modernviolin-playing, was beginning to write his concertos, and Boccherinilaying the foundation of chamber music. 

Such was the flourishing state of Italian art during the great Cremonaperiod, which opened up a mine of artistic wealth for succeedinggenerations. It is a curious fact that not only the violin but violinmusic was the creature of the most luxurious period of art; for, in thatgolden age of the creative imagination, musicians contemporary with thegreat violin-makers were writing music destined to be better understoodand appreciated when the violins then made should have reached theirmaturity. 

There can be no doubt that the conditions were all highly favorableto the manufacture of great instruments. There were many composersof genius and numerous orchestras scattered over Italy, Germany, andFrance, and there must have been a demand for bow instruments of a highorder. In the sixteenth century, Palestrina and Zarlino were writinggrand church music, in which violins bore an important part. In theseventeenth, lived Stradella, Lotti, Buononcini, Lulli, and Corelli. Inthe eighteenth, when violin-making Avas at its zenith, there were suchnames among the Italians as Scarlatti, Geminiani, Vivaldi, Locatelli, Boccherini, Tartini, Piccini, Viotti, and Nardini; while in France itwas the epoch of Lecler and Gravinies, composers of violin music ofthe highest class. Under the stimulus of such a general art culture themakers of the violin must have enjoyed large patronage, and the moreeminent artists have received highly remunerative prices for theirlabors, and, correlative to this practical success, a powerful stimulustoward perfecting the design and workmanship of their instruments. Theseplain artisans lived quiet and simple lives, but they bent their wholesouls to the work, and belonged to the class of minds of which Carlylespeaks: "In a word, they willed one thing to which all other things weremade subordinate and subservient, and therefore they accomplished it. The wedge will rend rocks, but its edge must be sharp and single; if itbe double, the wedge is bruised in pieces and will rend nothing. "

II. 

So much said concerning the general conditions under which the craftof violin-making reached such splendid excellence, the attention of thereader is invited to the greatest masters of the Cremona school. 

 "The instrument on which he played Was in Cremona's workshops made, By a great master of the past, Ere yet was lost the art divine; Fashioned of maple and of pine, That in Tyrolean forests vast Had rooked and wrestled with the blast. 

 "Exquisite was it in design, A marvel of the lutist's art, Perfect in each minutest part; And in its hollow chamber thus The maker from whose hand it came Had written his unrivaled name, 'Antonius Stradivarius. '"

The great artist whose work is thus made the subject of Longfellow'sverse was born at Cremona in 1644. His renown is beyond that of allothers, and his praise has been sounded by poet, artist, and musician. He has received the homage of two centuries, and his name is as littlelikely to be dethroned from its special place as that of Shakespeareor Homer. Though many interesting particulars are known concerninghis life, all attempt has failed to obtain any connected record of theprincipal events of his career. Perhaps there is no need, for thereis ample reason to believe that Antonius Stradiuarius lived a quiet, uncheckered, monotonous existence, absorbed in his labor of makingviolins, and caring for nothing in the outside world which did not touchhis all-beloved art. Without haste and without rest, he labored forthe perfection of the violin. To him the world was a mere workshop. Thefierce Italian sun beat down and made Cremona like an oven, but it wasgood to dry the wood for violins. On the slopes of the hills grew grandforests of maple, pine, and willow, but he cared nothing for forestor hillside except as they grew good wood for violins. The vineyardsyielded rich wine, but, after all, the main use of the grape was that itfurnished the spirit wherewith to compound varnish. The sheep, ox, andhorse were good for food, but still more important because from themcame the hair of the bow, the violin strings, and the glue which heldthe pieces together. It was through this single-eyed devotion tohis life-work that one great maker was enabled to gather up all theperfections of his predecessors, and stand out for all time as theflower of the Cremonese school and the master of the world. GeorgeEliot, in her poem, "The Stradivari, " probably pictures his lifeaccurately:

 "That plain white-aproned man, who stood at work, Patient and accurate full fourscore years, Cherished his sight and touch by temperance; And since keen sense is love of perfectness, Made perfect violins, the needed paths For inspiration and high mastery. "

M. Fetis, in his notice of the greatest of violin-makers, summarizes hislife very briefly. He tells us the life of Antonius Stradiuarius wasas tranquil as his calling was peaceful. The year 1702 alone must havecaused him some disquiet, when during the war the city of Cremona wastaken by Marshal Villeroy, on the Imperialist side, retaken by PrinceEugene, and finally taken a third time by the French. That must havebeen a parlous time for the master of that wonderful workshop whenceproceeded the world's masterpieces, though we may almost fancy theabsorbed master, like Archimedes when the Romans took Syracuse, sointent on his labor that he hardly heard the din and roar of battle, till some rude soldier disturbed the serene atmosphere of the roomlittered with shavings and strewn with the tools of a peaceful craft. 

Polledro, not many years ago first violin at the Chapel Royal of Turin, who died at a very advanced age, declared that his master had knownStradiuarius, and that he was fond of talking about him. He was, hesaid, tall and thin, with a bald head fringed with silvery hair, coveredwith a cap of white wool in the winter and of cotton in the summer. Hewore over his clothes an apron of white leather when he worked, and, ashe was always working, his costume never varied. He had acquired whatwas regarded as wealth in those days, for the people of Cremona wereaccustomed to say "As rich as Stradiuarius. " The house he occupied isstill standing in the Piazza Roma, and is probably the principal placeof interest in the old city to the tourists who drift thitherward. The simple-minded Cremonese have scarcely a conception to-day of theveneration with which their ancient townsman is regarded by the musicalconnoisseurs of the world. It was with the greatest difficulty that theywere persuaded a few years ago, by the efforts of Italian and Frenchmusicians, to name one street Stradiuarius, and another Amati. NicholasAmati, the greatest maker of his family, was the instructor of AntoniusStradiuarius, and during the early period of the latter artist theinstruments could hardly be distinguished from those of Amati. But, inafter-years, he struck out boldly in an original line of his own, andmade violins which, without losing the exquisite sweetness of the Amatiinstruments, possessed far more robustness and volume of tone, reaching, indeed, a combination of excellences which have placed his name highabove all others. It may be remarked of all the Cremona violins of thebest period, whether Amati, Stradiuarius, Guarnerius, or Steiner, that they are marked no less by their perfect beauty and delicacy ofworkmanship than by their charm of tone. These zealous artisans were notcontent to imprison the soul of Ariel in other form than the linesand curves of ideal grace, exquisitely marked woods, and varnish as ofliquid gold. This external beauty is uniformly characteristic of theCremona violins, though shape varies in some degree with each maker. Of the Stradiuarius violins it may be said, before quitting theconsideration of this maker, that they have fetched in latter yearsfrom one thousand to five thousand dollars. The sons and grandsons ofAntonius were also violin-makers of high repute, though inferior to thechief of the family. 

The name of Joseph Guarnerius del Jesû is only less in estimation thanthat of Antonius Stradiuarius, of whom it is believed by many he was apupil or apprentice, though of this there is no proof. Both his uncleAndreas and his cousin Joseph were distinguished violin-makers, but theGuarnerius patronymic has now its chiefest glory from that member knownas "del Jesû. " This great artist in fiddle-making was born at Cremona inthe year 1683, and died in 1745. He worked in his native place tillthe day of his death, but in his latter years Joseph del Jesû becamedissipated, and his instruments fell off somewhat in excellence ofquality and workmanship. But his _chef d'oeuvres_ yield only to thoseof the great Stradiuarius in the estimation of connoisseurs. Many of theGuarnerius violins, it is said, were made in prison, where the artistwas confined for debt, with inferior tools and material surreptitiouslyobtained for him by the jailer's daughter, who was in love with thehandsome captive. These fruits of his skill were less beautiful inworkmanship, though marked by wonderful sweetness and power of tone. Mr. Charles Reade, a great violin amateur as well as a novelist, says ofthese "prison" fiddles, referring to the comical grotesqueness of theirform: "Such is the force of genius, that I believe in our secret heartswe love these impudent fiddles best, they are so full of _chic_. "Paganini's favorite was a Guarnerius del Jesû, though he had no lessthan seven instruments of the greatest Cremona masters. Spohr, thecelebrated violinist and composer, offered to exchange his Strad, oneof the finest in the world, for a Guarnerius, in the possession of Mr. Mawkes, an English musician. 

Carlo Bergonzi, the pupil of Antonius Stradiuarius, was another of thegreat Cremona makers, and his best violins have commanded extraordinaryprices. He followed the model of his master closely, and some of hisinstruments can hardly be distinguished in workmanship and tone fromgenuine Strads. Something might be said, too, of Jacob Steiner, who, though a German (born about 1620), got the inspiration for hisinstruments of the best period so directly from Cremona that he oughtperhaps to be classified with the violin-makers of this school. Hisfamous violins, known as the Elector Steiners, were made under peculiarcircumstances. Almost heartbroken by the death of his wife, he retiredto a Benedictine monastery with the purpose of taking holy orders. But the art-passion of his life was too strong, and he made in hiscloister-prison twelve instruments, on which he lavished the mostjealous care and attention. These were presented to the twelve Electorsof Germany, and their extraordinary merit has caused them to rank highamong the great violins of the world. A volume might be easily compiledof anecdotes concerning violins and violin-makers. The vicissitudesand changes of ownership through which many celebrated instruments havepassed are full of romantic interest. Each instrument of the greatestmakers has a pedigree, as well authenticated as those of the greatmasterpieces of painting, though there have been instances where a Strador a Guarnerius has been picked up by some strange accident for a meretrifle at an auction. There have been many imitations of the genuineCremonas palmed off, too, on the unwary at a high price, but theconnoisseur rarely fails to identify the great violins almost instantly. For, aside from their magical beauty of tone, they are made with thegreatest beauty of form, color, and general detail. So much has beensaid concerning the greatest violin-makers, in view of the fact thatcoincident with the growth of a great school of art-manufacture inviolins there also sprang up a grand school of violin-playing; for, indeed, the one could hardly have existed without the other. 

III. 

The first great performer on the violin whose career had any specialsignificance, in its connection with the modern world of musical art, was Archangelo Corelli, who was born at Fusignano, in the territory ofBologna, in the year 1653. Corelli's compositions are recognized to-dayas types of musical purity and freshness, and the great number ofdistinguished pupils who graduated from his teaching relate him closelywith all the distinguished violinists even down to the present day. InCorelli's younger days the church had a stronger claim on musiciansthan the theatre or concert-room. So we find him getting his earliestinstruction from the Capuchin Simonelli, who devoted himself to theecclesiastical style. The pupil, however, yielded to an irresistibleinstinct, and soon put himself under the care of a clever and skillfulteacher, the well-known Bassani. Under this tuition the young musicianmade rapid advancement, for he labored incessantly in the practice ofhis instrument. At the age of twenty Corelli followed that natural bentwhich carried him to Paris, then, as now, a great art capital; and weare told, on the authority of Fetis, that the composer Lulli becameso jealous of his extraordinary skill that he obtained a royal mandateordering Corelli to quit Paris, on pain of the Bastille. 

In 1680 he paid a visit to Germany, and was specially well received, and was so universally admired, that he with difficulty escaped theimportunate invitations to settle at various courts as chief musician. After a three years' absence from his native land he returned andpublished his first sonatas. The result of his assiduous labor was thathis fame as a violinist had spread all over Europe, and pupils came fromdistant lands to profit by his instruction. We are told of his style asa solo player that it was learned and elegant, the tone firm and even, that his playing was frequently impressed with feeling, but that duringperformance "his countenance was distorted, his eyes red as fire, andhis eyeballs rolled as if he were in agony. " For about eighteen yearsCorelli was domiciled at Rome, under the patronage of Cardinal Ottoboni. As leader of the orchestra at the opera, he introduced many reforms, among them that of perfect uniformity of bowing. By the violin sonatascomposed during this period, it is claimed that Corelli laid thefoundation for the art of violin-playing, though it is probable that heprofited largely by those that went before him. It was at the house ofCardinal Ottoboni that Corelli met Handel, when the violent temperof the latter did not hesitate to show itself. Corelli was playing asonata, when the imperious young German snatched the violin from hishand, to show the greatest virtuoso of the age how to play the music. Corelli, though very amiable in temper, knew how to make himselfrespected. At one of the private concerts at Cardinal Ottoboni's, heobserved his host and others talking during his playing. He laid hisviolin down and joined the audience, saying he feared his music mightinterrupt the conversation. 

In 1708, according to Dubourg, Corelli accepted a royal invitationfrom Naples, and took with him his second violin, Matteo, and avioloncellist, in case he should not be well accompanied by theNeapolitan orchestra. He had no sooner arrived than he was asked to playsome of his concertos before the king. This he refused, as the whole ofhis orchestra was not with him, and there was no time for a rehearsal. However, he soon found that the Neapolitan musicians played theorchestral parts of his concertos as well as his own accompanists didafter some practice; for, having at length consented to play the firstof his concertos before the court, the accompaniment was so goodthat Corelli is said to have exclaimed to Matteo: "_Si suona aNapoli!_"--"They _do_ play at Naples!" This performance being quitesuccessful, he was presented to the king, who afterward requested himto perform one of his sonatas; but his Majesty found the adagio "solong and so dry that he got up and _left the room_ (!), to the greatmortification of the eminent virtuoso. " As the king had commanded thepiece, the least he could have done would have been to have waitedtill it was finished. "If they play at Naples, they are not very politethere, " poor Corelli must have thought! Another unfortunate mishap alsooccurred to him there, if we are to believe the dictum of Geminiani, one of Corelli's pupils, who had preceded him at Naples. It would appearthat he was appointed to lead a composition of Scarlatti's, and onarriving at an air in C minor he led off in C major, which mistake hetwice repeated, till Scarlatti came on the stage and showed him thedifference. This anecdote, however, is so intrinsically improbablethat it must be taken with several "grains of salt. " In 1712 Corelli'sconcertos were beautifully engraved at Amsterdam, but the composer onlysurvived the publication a few weeks. A beautiful statue, bearing theinscription "_Corelli princeps musicorum_, " was erected to his memory, adjacent that honoring the memory of Raffaelle in the Pantheon. Heaccumulated a considerable fortune, and left a valuable collection ofpictures. The solos of Corelli have been adopted as valuable studies bythe most eminent modern players and teachers. 

Francesco Geminiani was the most remarkable of Corelli's pupils. Born atLucca in 1680, he finished his studies under Corelli at Rome, and spentseveral years with great musical _éclat_ at Naples. In 1714 he wentto England, in which country he spent many years. His execution was ofgreat excellence, but his compositions only achieved temporary favor. His life is said to have been full of romance and incident. Geminiani'sconnection with Handel has a special musical interest. The king, whoarrived in England in September, 1714, and was crowned at Westminster amonth later, was irritated with Handel for having left Germany, where heheld the position of chapel-master to George, when Elector of Brunswick, and still more so by his having composed a _Te Deum_ on the Peace ofUtrecht, which was not favorably regarded by the Protestant princes ofGermany. Baron Kilmanseck, a Hanoverian, and a great admirer of Handel, undertook to bring them together again. Being informed that the kingintended to picnic on the Thames, he requested the composer to writesomething for the occasion. Thereupon Handel wrote the twenty-fivelittle concerted pieces known under the title of "Water Music. " Theywere executed in a barge which followed the royal boat. The orchestraconsisted of four violins, one tenor, one violoncello, one double-bass, two hautboys, two bassoons, two French horns, two flageolets, one flute, and one trumpet. The king soon recognized the author of the music, and his resentment against Handel began to soften. Shortly after thisGeminiani was requested to play some sonatas of his own composition inthe king's private cabinet; but, fearing that they would lose muchof their effect if they were accompanied in an inferior manner, heexpressed the desire that Handel should play the accompaniments. BaronKilmanseck carried the request to the king, and supported it strongly. The result was that peace was made, and an extra pension of two hundredpounds per annum settled upon Handel. Geminiani, after thirty-fiveyears spent in England, went to Paris for five years, where he was mostheartily welcomed by the musical world, but returned across the Channelagain to spend his latter years in Dublin. It was here that MatthewDubourg, whose book on "The Violin and Violinists" is a perfecttreasure-trove of anecdote, became his pupil. 

Another remarkable violinist was an intimate friend of Geminiani, aname distinguished alike in the annals of chess-playing and music, AndréDanican Philidor. This musician was born near Paris in 1726, and was thegrandson of the hautboy-player to the court of Louis XIII. His fatherand several of his relations were also eminent players in the royalorchestras of Louis XIV and Louis XV. Young Philidor was received intothe Chapel Royal at Versailles in 1732, being then six years old, andwhen eleven he composed a motette which extorted much admiration. Inthe Chapel Royal there were about eighty musicians daily in attendance, violins, hautboys, violas, double-basses, choristers, etc. ; and, cards not being allowed, they had a long table inlaid with a number ofchess-boards, with which they amused their leisure time. When fourteenyears old Philidor was the best chess-player in the band. Four yearslater he played at Paris two games of chess at the same time, withoutseeing the boards, and afterward extended this feat to playing fivegames simultaneously, which, though far inferior to the wonderfulfeats of Morphy, Paulsen, and others in more recent years, very muchastonished his own generation. Philidor was an admirable violinist, andthe composer of numerous operas which delighted the French public formany years. He died in London in 1759. 

There were several other pupils of Corelli who achieved rank in theirart and exerted a recognizable influence on music. Locatelli displayedoriginality and genius in his compositions, and his studies, "Arte diNuova Modulazione, " was studied by Paganini. Another pupil, LorenzoSomis, became noted as the teacher of Lecler, Pugnani (the professor ofViotti), and Giardini. Visconti, of Cremona, who was taught by Corelli, is said to have greatly assisted by his counsels the constructive geniusof Antonius Stradiuarius in making his magnificent instruments. 

IV. 

The name of Giuseppe Tartini will recur to the musical reader morefamiliarly than those previously mentioned. He was the scion of a noblestock, and was born in Istria in 1692. Originally intended for the law, he was entered at the University of Padua at the age of eighteen forthis profession, but his time was mostly given to the study of music andfencing, in both of which he soon became remarkably proficient, sothat he surpassed the masters who taught him. It may be that accidentdetermined the future career of Tartini, for, had he remained at theuniversity, the whole bent of his life might have been different. Erosexerted his potent sway over the young student, and he entered into asecret marriage, that being the lowest price at which he could win his_bourgeois_ sweetheart. Tartini became an outcast from his family, andwas compelled to fly and labor for his own living. After many hardships, he found shelter in a convent at Assisi, the prior of which was a familyconnection, who took compassion on the friendless youth. Here Tartiniset to work vigorously on his violin, and prosecuted a series ofstudies which resulted in the "Sonata del Diavolo" and other remarkablecompositions. At last he was reconciled to his family through theintercession of his monastic friend, and took his abode in Venice thathe might have the benefit of hearing the playing of Veracini, a greatbut eccentric musician, then at the head of the Conservatario of thatcity. Veracini was nicknamed "Capo Pazzo, " or "mad-head, " on account ofhis eccentricity. Dubourg tells a curious story of this musician: Beingat Lucca at the time of the annual festival called "Festa della Croce, "on which occasion it was customary for the leading artists of Italy tomeet, Veracini put his name down for a solo. When he entered the choir, he found the principal place occupied by a musician of some rank namedLaurenti. In reply to the latter's question, "Where are you going?"Veracini haughtily answered, "To the place of the first violinist. " Itwas explained by Laurenti that he himself had been engaged to fill thatpost, but, if his interlocutor wished to play a solo, he could havethe privilege either at high mass or at vespers. Evidently he did notrecognize Veracini, who turned away in a rage, and took his positionin the lowest place in the orchestra. When his turn came to play hisconcerto, he begged that instead of it he might play a solo where hewas, accompanied on the violoncello by Lanzetti. This he did in sobrilliant and unexpected a manner that the applause was loud andcontinued, in spite of the sacred nature of the place; and whenever hewas about to make a close, he turned toward Laurenti and called out:"Cost se suona per fare il primo violino"--"This is the way to playfirst violin. "

Veracini played upon a fine Steiner violin. The only master he ever hadwas his uncle Antonio, of Florence; and it was by traveling all overEurope, and by numerous performances in public, that he formed astyle of playing peculiar to himself, very similar to what occurredto Pa-ganini and the celebrated De Bériot in later years. It does notappear certain that Tartini ever took lessons from Veracini; but hearingthe latter play in public had no doubt a very great effect upon him, andcaused him to devote many years to the careful study of his instrument. Some say that Veracini's performance awakened a vivid emulation inTartini, who was already acknowledged to be a very masterly player. Upto the time, however, that Tartini first heard Veracini, he hadnever attempted any of the more intricate and difficult feats ofviolin-playing, as effected by the management of the bow. An intimatefriendship sprang up between the two artists and another clevermusician named Marcello, and they devoted much time to the study of theprinciples of violin-playing, particularly to style and the varied kindsof bowing. Veracini's mind afterward gave way, and Tartini withdrewhimself to Ancona, where in utter solitude he applied himself to workingout the fundamental principles of the bow in the technique of theviolin--principles which no succeeding violinist has improved oraltered. Tartini, even while absorbed in music, did not neglect thestudy of science and mathematics, of which he was passionately fond, and in the pursuit of which he might have made a name not less than hisreputation as a musician. It was at this time that Tartini made a verycurious discovery, known as the _phenomenon of the third sound_, whichcreated some sensation at the time, and has since given rise to numerouslearned discourses, but does not appear to have led to any greatpractical result. Various memoirs or treatises were written by him, andthat in which he develops the nature of the _third sound_ is his "Trattodi Musica se-condo la vera scienza de l'Armonia. " In this and others ofhis works, he appears much devoted to _theory_, and endeavors to placeall his practical facts upon a thoroughly scientific basis. The effectknown as the _third sound_ consists in the sympathetic resonance of athird note when the two upper notes of a chord are played in perfecttune. "If you do not hear the bass, " Tartini would say to his pupils, "the thirds or sixths which you are playing are not perfect inintonation. "

At Ancona, Tartini attained such reputation as a player and musicianthat he was appointed, in 1721, to the directorship of the orchestra ofthe church of St. Anthony at Padua. Here, according to Fetis, he spentthe remaining forty-nine years of his life in peace and comfort, solelyoccupied with the labors connected with the art he loved. 

His great fame brought him repeated offers from the principal cities ofEurope, even London and Paris, hat nothing could induce him to leave hisbeloved Italy. Though Tartini could not have been heard out of Italy, his violin school at Padua graduated many excellent players, who werewidely known throughout the musical world. Tartini's compositionsreached no less than one hundred and fifty works, distinguished not onlyby beauty of melody and knowledge of the violin, but by soundnessof musical science. Some of his sonatas are still favorites in theconcert-room. Among these, the most celebrated is the "Trilledel Dia-volo, " or "Devil's Sonata, " composed under the followingcircumstances, as related by Tartini himself to his pupil Lalande:

"One night in 1713, " he says, "I dreamed that I had made a compact withthe devil, who promised to be at my service on all occasions. Everythingsucceeded according to my mind; my wishes were anticipated and desiresalways surpassed by the assistance of my new servant. At last I thoughtI would offer my violin to the devil, in order to discover what kind ofa musician he was, when, to my great astonishment, I heard him playa solo, so singularly beautiful and with such superior taste andprecision, that it surpassed all the music I had ever heard or conceivedin the whole course of my life. I was so overcome with surprise anddelight that I lost my power of breathing, and the violence of thissensation awoke me. Instantly I seized my violin in the hopes ofremembering some portion of what I had just heard, but in vain! The workwhich this dream suggested, and which I wrote at the time, is doubtlessthe best of all my compositions, and I still call it the 'Sonata delDiavolo'; but it sinks so much into insignificance compared with whatI heard, that I would have broken my instrument and abandoned musicaltogether, had I possessed any other means of subsistence. "

Tartini died at Padua in 1770, and so much was he revered and admiredin the city where he had spent nearly fifty years of his life, that hisdeath was regarded as a public calamity. He used to say of himself thathe never made any real progress in music till he was more than thirtyyears old; and it is curious that he should have made a great changein the nature of his performance at the age of fifty-two. Instead ofdisplaying his skill in difficulties of execution, he learned to prefergrace and expression. His method of playing an adagio was regarded asinimitable by his contemporaries; and he transmitted this gift to hispupil Nardini, who was afterward called the greatest adagio player inthe world. Another of Tartini's great _élevés_ was Pugnani, who beforecoming to him had been instructed by Lorenzo Somis, the pupil ofCorelli. So it may be said that Pugnani united in himself the schools ofCorelli and Tartini, and was thus admirably fitted to be the instructorof that grand player, who was the first in date of the violin virtuososof modern times, Viotti. 

Both as composer and performer, Pugnani was held in great esteemthroughout Europe. His first meeting with Tartini was an incident ofconsiderable interest. He made the journey from Paris to Padua expresslyto see Tartini, and on reaching his destination he proceeded to thehouse of the great violinist. 

Tartini received him kindly, and evinced some curiosity to hear himplay. Pugnani took up his instrument and commenced a well-known solo, but he had not played many bars before Tartini suddenly seized his arm, saying, "Too loud, my friend, too loud!" The Piedmontese began again, but at the same passage Tartini stopped him again, exclaiming this time, "Too soft, my good friend, too soft!" Pugnani therefore laid down theviolin, and begged of Tartini to give him some lessons. He was atonce received among Tartini's pupils, and, though already an excellentartist, began his musical education almost entirely anew. Many anecdoteshave been foisted upon Pugnani, some evidently the creation of rivals, and not worth repeating. Others, on the contrary, tend to enlighten usupon the character of the man. Thus, when playing, he was so completelyabsorbed in the music, that he has been known, at a public concert, towalk about the platform during the performance of a favorite cadenza, imagining himself alone in the room. Again, at the house of MadameDenis, when requested to play before Voltaire, who had little or nomusic in his soul, Pugnani stopped short, when the latter had the badtaste to continue his conversation, remarking in a loud, clear voice, "M. De Voltaire is very clever in making verses, but as regards musiche is devilishly ignorant. " Pugnani's style of play is said to have beenvery broad and noble, "characterized by that commanding sweep of thebow, which afterward formed so grand a feature in the performance ofViotti. " He was distinguished as a composer as well as a player, andamong his numerous works are some seven or eight operas, which were verysuccessful for the time being on the Italian stage. 

VIOTTI. 

Viotti, the Connecting Link between the Early and Modern ViolinSchools. --His Immense Superiority over his Contemporaries andPredecessors. --Other Violinists of his Time, Giornowick andBoccherini. --Viotti's Early Years--His Arrival in Paris, and theSensation he made--His Reception by the Court. --Viotti's Personal Prideand Dignity. --His Rebuke to Princely Impertinence. --The Musical Circlesof Paris. --Viotti's Last Publie Concert in Paris. --He suddenly departsfor London. --Becomes Director of the King's Theatre. --Is compelled toleave the Country as a Suspected Revolutionist. --His Return to England, and Metamorphosis into a Vintner. --The French Singer, Garat, finds himout in his London Obscurity. --Anecdote of Viotti's Dinner Party. --Hequits the Wine Trade for his own Profession. --Is made Director of theParis Grand Opéra. --Letter from Rossini. --Viotti's Account of the"Ranz des Vaches. "--Anecdotes of the Great Violinist. --Dies in London in1824. --Viotti's Place as a Violinist, and Style of Playing. --The TourtéBow first invented during his Time. --An Indispensable Factor in GreatPlaying on the Violin. --Viotti's Pupils, and his Influence on theMusical Art. 

I. 

In the person of the celebrated Viotti we recognize the link connectingthe modern school of violin-playing with the schools of the past. Hewas generally hailed as the leading violinist of his time, and hisinfluence, not merely on violin music but music in general, was of avery palpable order. In him were united the accomplishments of the greatvirtuoso and the gifts of the composer. At the time that Viotti's starshot into such splendor in the musical horizon, there were not a fewclever violinists, and only a genius of the finest type could haveattained and perpetuated such a regal sway among his contemporaries. Atthe time when Viotti appeared in Paris the popular heart was completelycaptivated by Giornowick, whose eccentric and quarrelsome character asa man cooperated with his artistic excellence to keep him constantlyin the public eye. Giornowick was a Palermitan, born in 1745, and hiscareer was thoroughly artistic and full of romantic vicissitudes. Hisstyle was very graceful and elegant, his tone singularly pure. One ofthe most popular and seductive tricks in his art was the treating ofwell-known airs as rondos, returning ever and anon to his theme aftera variety of brilliant excursions in a way that used to fascinate hishearers, thus anticipating some of his brilliant successors. 

Michael Kelly heard him at Vienna. "He was a man of a certain age, " hetells us, "but in the full vigor of talent. His tone was very powerful, his execution most rapid, and his taste, above all, alluring. Noperformer in my remembrance played such pleasing music. " Dubourg relatesthat on one occasion, when Giornowick had announced a concert at Lyons, he found the people rather retentive of their money, so he postponed theconcert to the following evening, reducing the price of the tickets toone half. A crowded company was the result. But the bird had flown! Theartist had left Lyons without ceremony, together with the receipts fromsales of tickets. 

In London, where he was frequently heard between 1792 and 1796, he oncegave a concert which was fully attended, but annoying to the playeron account of the indifference of the audience and the clatter ofthe tea-cups; for it was then the custom to serve tea during theperformance, as well as during the intervals. Giornowick turned to theorchestra and ordered them to cease playing. "These people, " said he, "know nothing about music; anything is good enough for drinkers of warmwater. I will give them something suited to their taste. " Whereupon heplayed a very trivial and commonplace French air, which he disguisedwith all manner of meretricious flourishes, and achieved a greatsuccess. When Viotti arrived in Paris in 1779, Giornowick started onhis travels after having heard this new rival once. 

A distinguished virtuoso and composer, with whom Viotti had already beenthrown into contact, though in a friendly rather than a competitive way, was Boccherini, who was one of the most successful early composers oftrios, quartets, and quintets for string instruments. During the latterpart of Boccherini's life he basked in the sunlight of Spanish royalty, and composed nine works annually for the Royal Academy of Madrid, inwhich town he died in 1806, aged sixty-six. A very clever saying isattributed to him. The King of Spain, Charles IV, was fond of playingwith the great composer, and was very ambitious of shining as a greatviolinist; his cousin, the Emperor of Austria, was also fond of theviolin, and played tolerably well. One day the latter asked Boccherini, in a rather straightforward manner, what difference there was betweenhis playing and that of his cousin Charles IV. "Sire, " repliedBoccherini, without hesitating for a moment, "Charles IV plays like aking, and your Majesty plays like an emperor. "

Giovanni Battista Viotti was born in a little Piedmontese village calledFontaneto, in the year 1755. The accounts of his early life aretoo confused and fragmentary to be trustworthy. It is pretty wellestablished, however, that he studied under Pugnani at Turin, and thatat the age of twenty he was made first violin at the Chapel Royal ofthat capital. After remaining three years, he began his career as asolo player, and, after meeting with the greatest success at Berlin andVienna, directed his course to Paris, where he made his _debut_ at the"Concerts Spirituels. "

II. 

Fetis tells us that the arrival of Viotti in Paris produced a sensationdifficult to describe. No performer had yet been heard who had attainedso high a degree of perfection, no artist had possessed so fine a tone, such sustained elegance, such fire, and so varied a style. The fancywhich was developed in his concertos increased the delight he producedin the minds of his auditory. His compositions for the violin wereas superior to those which had previously been heard as his executionsurpassed that of all his predecessors and contemporaries. Giornowick'sstyle was full of grace and suave elegance; Viotti was characterizedby a remarkable beauty, breadth, and dignity. Lavish attentions werebestowed on him from the court circle. Marie Antoinette, who was anardent lover and most judicious patron of music, sent him her commandsto play at Versailles. The haughty artistic pride of Viotti was signallydisplayed at one of these concerts before royalty. A large number ofeminent musicians had been engaged for the occasion, and the audiencewas a most brilliant one. Viotti had just begun a concerto of his owncomposition, when the arrogant Comte d'Artois made a great bustle inthe room, and interrupted the music by his loud whispers and utterindifference to the comfort of any one but himself. Viotti's dark eyesflashed fire as he stared sternly at this rude scion of the blood royal. At last, unable to restrain his indignation, he deliberately placed hisviolin in the case, gathered up his music from the stand, and withdrewfrom the concert-room without ceremony, leaving the concert, herMajesty, and his Royal Highness to the reproaches of the audience. This scene is an exact parallel of one which occurred at the houseof Cardinal Ottoboni, when Corelli resented in similar fashion theimpertinence of some of his auditors. 

Everywhere in artistic and aristocratic circles at the French capitalViotti's presence was eagerly sought. Private concerts were so much thevogue in Paris that musicians of high rank found more profit in thesethan in such as were given to the miscellaneous public. A delightfulartistic rendezvous was the hôtel of the Comte de Balck, an enthusiasticpatron and friend of musicians. Here Viotti's friend, Garat, whose voicehad so great a range as to cover both the tenor and barytone registers, was wont to sing; and here young Orfila, the brilliant chemist, displayed his magnificent tenor voice in such a manner as to attract themost tempting offers from managers that he should desert the laboratoryfor the stage. But the young Portuguese was fascinated with science, and was already far advanced in the career which made him in his daythe greatest of all authorities on toxicological chemistry. The mostbrilliant and gifted men and women of Paris haunted these reunions, and Viotti always appeared at his best amid such surroundings. Another favorite resort of his was the house of Mme. Montegerault atMontmorency, a lady who was a brilliant pianist. Sometimes she wouldseat herself at her instrument and begin an improvisation, and Viotti, seizing his violin, would join in the performance, and in a series ofextemporaneous passages display his great powers to the delight of allpresent. 

He evinced the greatest distaste for solo playing at public concerts, and, aside from charity performances, only consented once to such anexhibition of his talents. A singular concert was arranged to take placeon the fifth story of a house in Paris, the apartment being occupiedby a friend of Viotti, who was also a member of the Government. "I willplay, " he said, on being urged, "but only on one condition, and thatis, that the audience shall come up here to us--we have long enoughdescended to them; but times are changed, and now we may compel them torise to our level"; or something to that effect. It took place in duecourse, and was a very brilliant concert indeed. The only ornament was abust of Jean Jacques Rousseau. A large number of distinguished artists, both instrumental and vocal, were present, and a most aristocraticaudience. A good deal of Boccherini's music was performed that evening, and though many of the titled personages had mounted to the fifth floorfor the first time in their lives, so complete was the success of theconcert that not one descended without regret, and all were warm intheir praise of the performances of the distinguished violinist. 

What the cause of Viotti's sudden departure from Paris in 1790 was, it is difficult to tell. Perhaps he had offended the court by theindependence of his bearing; perhaps he had expressed his politicalopinions too bluntly, for he was strongly democratic in his views;perhaps he foresaw the terrible storm which was gathering and was soonto break in a wrack of ruin, chaos, and blood. Whatever the cause, ourviolinist vanished from Paris with hardly a word of farewell to his mostintimate friends, and appeared in London at Salomon's concerts with thesame success which had signalized his Parisian _début_. Every onewas delighted with the originality and power of his playing, and theexquisite taste that modified the robustness and passion which enteredinto the substance of his musical conceptions. 

Viotti was one of the artistic celebrities of London for several years, but his eccentric and resolute nature did not fail to involve him inseveral difficulties with powerful personages. He became connected withthe management of the King's Theatre, and led the music for two yearswith signal ability. But he suddenly received an order from theBritish Government to leave England without delay. His sharp tongue andoutspoken language were never consistent with courtly subserviency. Wecan fancy our musician shrugging his shoulders with disdain on receivinghis order of banishment, for he was too much of a cosmopolite to bedisturbed by change of country. He took up his residence at Schönfeld, Holland, in a beautiful and splendid villa, and produced there severalof his most celebrated compositions, as well as a series of studies ofthe violin school. 

III. 

The edict which had sent Viotti from England was revoked in 1801, andhe returned with commercial aspirations, for he entered into the winetrade. It could not be said of him, as of another well-known composer, who attempted to conduct a business in the vending of sweet sounds andthe juice of the grape simultaneously, that he composed his wines andimported his music; for Viotti seems to have laid music entirely asidefor the nonce, and we have no reason to suspect that his port and sherrywere not of the best. Attention to business did not keep him from losinga large share of his fortune, however, in this mercantile venture, andfor a while he was so completely lost in the London Babel as to havepassed out of sight and mind of his old admirers. The French singer, Garat, tells an amusing story of his discovery of Viotti in London, whennone of his Continental friends knew what had become of him. 

In the very zenith of his powers and height of his reputation, thefounder of a violin school which remains celebrated to this day, Viottihad quitted Paris suddenly, and since his departure no one had received, either directly or indirectly, any news of him. According to Garat, somevague indications led him to believe that the celebrated violinisthad taken up his residence in London, but, for a long time after his(Garat's) arrival in the metropolis, all his attempts to find him werefruitless. At last, one morning he went to a large export house forwine. It had a spacious courtyard, filled with numbers of large barrels, among which it was not easy to move toward the office or counting-house. On entering the latter, the first person who met his gaze was Viottihimself. Viotti was surrounded by a legion of employees, and so absorbedin business that he did not notice Garat. At last he raised his head, and, recognizing his old friend, seized him by the hand, and led himinto an adjoining room, where he gave him a hearty welcome. Garat couldnot believe his senses, and stood motionless with surprise. 

"I see you are astonished at the metamorphosis, " said Viotti; "it iscertainly _drôle_--unexpected; but what _could_ you expect? At ParisI was looked upon as a ruined man, lost to all my friends; it wasnecessary to do something to get a living, and here I am, making myfortune!"

"But, " interrupted Garat, "have you taken into consideration all thedrawbacks and annoyances of a profession to which you were not broughtup, and which must be opposed to your tastes?"

"I perceive, " continued Viotti, "that you share the error which so manyindulge in. Commercial enterprise is generally considered a most prosaicundertaking, but it has, nevertheless, its seductions, its prestige, itspoetical side. I assure you no musician, no poet, ever had an existencemore full of interesting and exciting incidents than those which causethe heart of the merchant to throb. His imagination, stimulated bysuccess, carries him forward to new conquests; his clients increase, hisfortune augments, the finest dreams of ambition are ever before him. "

"But art!" again interrupted his friend; "the art of which you are oneof the finest representatives--you can not have entirely abandoned it?"

"Art will lose nothing, " rejoined Viotti, "and you will find that Ican conciliate two things without interfering with either, though youdoubtless consider them irreconcilable. We will continue this subjectanother time; at present I must leave you; I have some pressing businessto transact this afternoon. But come and dine with me at six o'clock, and be sure you do not disappoint me. "

Garat, who relates this conversation, tells us that at the appointedtime he returned to the house. All the barrels and wagons that hadencumbered the courtyard were cleared away, and in their place werecoroneted carriages, with footmen and servants. A lackey in brilliantlivery conducted the visitor to the drawing-room on the first floor. The apartments were magnificently furnished, and glittered withmirrors, candelabra, gilt ornaments, and the most quaint and costly_bric-à-brac_. Viotti received his guests at the head of the staircase, no longer the plodding man of business, but the courtly, high-bredgentleman. Garat's amazement was still further increased when he heardthe names of the other guests, all distinguished men. After an admirablycooked dinner, there was still more admirable music, and Viotti provedto the satisfaction of his French friend that he was still the samegreat artist who had formerly delighted his listeners in Paris. 

The wine business turned out so badly for our violinist that he was fainto return to his old and legitimate profession. Through the interventionof powerful friends in Paris, he was appointed director of the GrandOpéra, but he became discontented in a very onerous and irritatingposition, and was retired at his own request with a pension. Aninteresting letter from the great Italian composer Rossini, who was thenfirst trying his fortune in the French metropolis, written to Viottiin 1821, is pleasant proof of the estimate placed on his talents andinfluence:

"Most esteemed Sir: You will be surprised at receiving a letter from anindividual who has not the honor of your personal acquaintance, but Iprofit by the liberality of feeling existing among artists to addressthese lines to you through my friend Hérold, from whom I have learnedwith the greatest satisfaction the high, and, I fear, somewhatundeserved opinion you have of me. The oratorio of 'Moïse, ' composed byme three years ago, appears to our mutual friend susceptible of dramaticadaptation to French words; and I, who have the greatest reliance onHérold's taste and on his friendship for me, desire nothing more than torender the entire work as perfect as possible, by composing new airs ina more religious style than those which it at present contains, andby endeavoring to the best of my power that the result shall neitherdisgrace the composer of the partition, nor you, its patron andprotector. If M. Viotti, with his great celebrity, will consent tobe the Mecænas of my name, he may be assured of the gratitude of hisdevoted servant, "Gioacchino Rossini. 

"P. S. --In a month's time I will forward you the alterations of the drama'Moïse, ' in order that you may judge if they are conformable to theoperatic style. Should they not be so, you will have the kindness tosuggest any others better adapted to the purpose. "

IV. 

Viotti, though in many respects proud, resolute, and haughty intemperament, was simple-hearted and enthusiastic, and a passionate loverof nature. M. Eymar, one of his intimate friends, said of him, "Neverdid a man attach so much value to the simplest gifts of nature, andnever did a child enjoy them more passionately. " A modest flower growingin the grass of the meadow, a charming bit of landscape, a rustic_fête_, in short, all the sights and sounds of the country, filled himwith delight. All nature spoke to his heart, and his finest compositionswere suggested and inspired by this sympathy. He has left the world acharming musical picture of the feelings experienced in the mountainsof Switzerland. It was there he heard, under peculiar circumstances, and probably for the first time, the plaintive sound of a mountain-horn, breathing forth the few notes of a kind of "Ranz des Vaches. "

"The 'Ranz des Vaches' which I send you, " he says in one of his letters, "is neither that with which our friend Jean Jacques has presented us, nor that of which M. De la Bord speaks in his work on music. I cannot say whether it is known or not; all I know is, that I heard itin Switzerland, and, once heard, I have never forgotten it. I wassauntering along, toward the decline of day, in one of those sequesteredspots. . . . Flowers, verdure, streamlets, all united to form a pictureof perfect harmony. There, without being fatigued, I seated myselfmechanically on a fragment of rock, and fell into so profound a reveriethat I seemed to forget that I was upon earth. While sitting thus, sounds broke on my ear which were sometimes of a hurried, sometimes ofa prolonged and sustained character, and were repeated in softened tonesby the echoes around. I found they proceeded from a mountain-horn; andtheir effect was heightened by a plaintive female voice. Struck as ifby enchantment, I started from my dreams, listened with breathlessattention, and learned, or rather engraved upon my memory, the 'Ranz desVaches' which I send you. In order to understand all its beauties, youought to be transplanted to the scene in which I heard it, and tofeel all the enthusiasm that such a moment inspired. " It was a similardelightful experience which, according to Rossini's statement, firstsuggested to that great composer his immortal opera, "Guillaume Tell. "

Among many interesting anecdotes current of Viotti, and one whichadmirably shows his goodness of heart and quickness of resource, is onenarrated by Ferdinand Langlé to Adolph Adam, the French composer. Thefather of the former, Marie Langlé, a professor of harmony in the FrenchConservatoire, was an intimate friend of Viotti, and one charming summerevening the twain were strolling on the Champs Élysées. They sat down ona retired bench to enjoy the calmness of the night, and became buriedin reverie. But they were brought back to prosaic matters harshly by ababel of discordant noises that grated on the sensitive ears of the twomusicians. They started from their seats, and Viotti said:

"It can't be a violin, and yet there is some resemblance to one. "

"Nor a clarionet, " suggested Langlé, "though it is something like it. "

The easiest manner of solving the problem was to go and see what it was. They approached the spot whence the extraordinary tones issued, and sawa poor blind man standing near a miserable-looking candle and playingupon a violin--but the latter was an instrument made of tin-plate. 

"Fancy!" exclaimed Viotti, "it is a violin, but a violin of tin-plate!Did you ever dream of such a curiosity?" and, after listening a while, he added, "I say, Langlé, I must possess that instrument. Go and ask theold blind man what he will sell it for. "

Langlé approached and asked the question, but the old man wasdisinclined to part with it. 

"But we will give you enough for it to enable you to purchase a better, "he added; "and why is not your violin like others?"

The aged fiddler explained that, when he got old and found himselfpoor, not being able to work, but still able to scrape a few airs upon aviolin, he had endeavored to procure one, but in vain. At last his good, kind nephew Eustache, who was apprenticed to a tinker, had made him oneout of a tin-plate. "And an excellent one, too, " he added; "and my poorboy Eustache brings me here in the morning when he goes to work, andfetches me away in the evening when he returns, and the receipts arenot so bad sometimes--as, when he was out of work, it was I who kept thehouse going. "

"Well, " said Viotti, "I will give you twenty francs for your violin. Youcan buy a much better one for that price; but let me try it a little. "

He took the violin in his hands, and produced some extraordinaryeffects from it. A considerable crowd gathered around, and listenedwith curiosity and astonishment to the performance. Langlé seized onthe opportunity, and passed around the hat, gathering a goodly amount ofchink from the bystanders, which, with the twenty francs, was handed tothe astonished old beggar. 

"Stay a moment, " said the blind man, recovering a little from hissurprise; "just now I said I would sell the violin for twenty francs, but I did not know it was so good. I ought to have at least double forit. "

Viotti had never received a more genuine compliment, and he did nothesitate to give the old man two pieces of gold instead of one, and thenimmediately retired from the spot, passing through the crowd with thetin-plate instrument under his arm. He had scarcely gone forty yardswhen he felt some one pulling at his sleeve; it was a workman, whopolitely took off his cap, and said:

"Sir, you have paid too dear for that violin; and if you are an amateur, as it was I who made it, I can supply you with as many as you like atsix francs each. "

This was Eustache; he had just come in time to hear the conclusion ofthe bargain, and, little dreaming that he was so clever a violin-maker, wished to continue a trade that had begun so successfully. However, Viotti was quite satisfied with the one sample he had bought. He neverparted with that instrument; and, when the effects of Viotti were soldin London after his death, though the tin fiddle only brought a fewshillings, an amateur of curiosities sought out the purchaser, andoffered him a large sum if he could explain how the strange instrumentcame into the possession of the great violinist. 

After resigning his position as director of the Grand Opéra, Viottireturned to London, which had become a second home to him, and spent hisremaining days there. He died on the 24th of March, 1824. 

V. 

Viotti established and settled for ever the fundamental principles ofviolin-playing. He did not attain the marvelous skill of technique, thevaried subtile and dazzling effects, with which his successor, Paganini, was to amaze the world, but, from the accounts transmitted to us, hisperformance must have been characterized by great nobility, breadth, andbeauty of tone, united with a fire and agility unknown before his time. Viotti was one of the first to use the Tourté bow, that indispensableadjunct to the perfect manipulation of the violin. The value of thisadvantage over his predecessors cannot be too highly estimated. 

The bows used before the time of François Tourté, who lived in thelatter years of the last century in Paris, were of imperfect shape andmake. The Tourté model leaves nothing to be desired in all the qualitiesrequired to enable the player to follow out every conceivable manner oftone and movement--lightness, firmness, and elasticity. Tartini had madethe stick of his bow elastic, an innovation from the time of Corelli, and had thus attained a certain flexibility and brilliancy in his bowingsuperior to his predecessors. But the full development of all the powersof the violin, or the practice of what we now call virtuosoism on thisinstrument, was only possible with the modern bow as designed by Tourté, of Paris. The thin, bent, elastic stick of the bow, with its greaterlength of sweep, gives the modern player incalculable advantages overthose of an earlier age, enabling him to follow out the slightestgradations of tone from the fullest _forte_ to the softest _piano_, to mark all kinds of strong and gentle accents, to execute staccato, legato, saltato, and arpeggio passages with the greatest ease andcertainty. The French school of violin-playing did not at first availitself of these advantages, and even Viotti and Spohr did not fullygrasp the new resources of execution. It was left for Paganini to opena new era in the art. His daring and subtile genius perceived and seizedthe wonderful resources of the modern bow at one bound. He used freelyevery imaginable movement of the bow, and developed the movement of thewrist to that high perfection which enabled him to practice all kindsof bowing with celerity. Without the Tourté bow, Paganini and the modernschool of virtuosos, which has followed so splendidly from his example, would have been impossible. To many of our readers an amplification ofthis topic may be of interest. While the left hand of the violin-playerfixes the tone, and thereby does that which for the pianist is alreadydone by the mechanism of the instrument, and while the correctness ofhis intonation depends on the proficiency of the left hand, it is theaction of the right hand, the bowing, which, analogous to the pianist'stouch, makes the sound spring into life. It is through the medium ofthe bow that the player embodies his ideas and feelings. It is thereforeevident that herein rests one of the most important and difficultelements of the art of violin-playing, and that the excellence of aplayer, or even of a whole school of playing, depends to a great extenton its method of bowing. It would have been even better for the artof violin-playing as practiced to-day that the perfect instruments ofStradiuarius and Guarnerius should not have been, than that the Tourtébow should have been uninvented. 

The long, effective sweep of the bow was one of the characteristicsof Viotti's playing, and was alike the admiration and despair of hisrivals. His compositions for the violin are classics, and Spohr waswont to say that there could be no better test of a fine player thanhis execution of one of the Viotti sonatas or concertos. Spohr regretteddeeply that he could not finish his violin training under thisgreat master, and was wont to speak of him in terms of the greatestadmiration. Viotti had but few pupils, but among them were a number ofhighly gifted artists. Rode, Robrechts, Cartier, Mdlle. Gerbini, Alday, La-barre, Pixis, Mari, Mme. Paravicini, and Vacher are well-known namesto all those interested in the literature of the violin. The influenceof Viotti on violin music was a very deep one, not only in virtue of hiscompositions, but in the fact that he molded the style not only of manyof the best violinists of his own day, but of those that came after him. 

LUDWIG SPOHR. 

Birth and Early Life of the Violinist Spohr. --He is presented with hisFirst Violin at six. --The French _Emigré_ Dufour uses his Influence withDr. Spohr, Sr. , to have the Boy devoted to a Musical Career. --Goesto Brunswick for fuller Musical Instruction. --Spohr is appointed_Kammer-musicus_ at the Ducal Court. --He enters under the Tuition ofand makes a Tour with the Violin Virtuoso Eck. --Incidents of the RussianJourney and his Return. --Concert Tour in Germany. --Loses his FineGuarnerius Violin. --Is appointed Director of the Orchestra at Gotha. --Hemarries Dorette Schiedler, the Brilliant Harpist. --Spohr's Stratagem tobe present at the Erfurt Musical Celebration given by Napoleon inHonor of the Allied Sovereigns. --Becomes Director of Opera inVienna. --Incidents of his Life and Production of Various Works. --FirstVisit to England. --He is made Director of the Cassel CourtOratorios. --He is retired with a Pension. --Closing Years of hisLife. --His Place as Composer and Executant. 

I. 

"The first singer on the violin that ever appeared!" Such was theverdict of the enthusiastic Italians when they heard one of the greatestof the world's violinists, who was also a great composer. The modernworld thinks of Spohr rather as the composer of symphony, opera, andoratorio than as a wonderful executant on the violin; but it was inthe latter capacity that he enjoyed the greatest reputation during theearlier part of his lifetime, which was a long one, extending from theyear 1784 to 1859. The latter half of Spohr's life was mostly devotedto the higher musical ambition of creating, but not until he hadestablished himself as one of the greatest of virtuosos, and foundeda school of violin-playing which is, beyond all others, the mostscientific, exhaustive, and satisfactory. All of the great contemporaryviolinists are disciples of the Spohr school of execution. Great as acomposer, still greater as a player, and widely beloved as a man--thereare only a few names in musical art held in greater esteem than his, though many have evoked a deeper enthusiasm. 

Ludwig Spohr was born at Brunswick, April 5, 1784, of parents both ofwhom possessed no little musical talent. His father, a physicianof considerable eminence, was an excellent flutist, and his motherpossessed remarkable talent both as a pianist and singer. To the familyconcerts which he heard at home was the rapid development of the boy'stalents largely due. Nature had given him a very sensitive ear and afine clear voice, and at the age of four or five he joined his motherin duets at the evening gatherings. From the very first he manifesteda taste for the instrument for which he was destined to becomedistinguished. He so teased his father that, at the age of six, he waspresented with his first violin, and his joy on receiving his treasurewas overpowering. The violin was never out of his hand, and hecontinually wandered about the house trying to play his favoritemelodies. Spohr tells us in his "Autobiography": "I still recollectthat, after my first lesson, in which I had learned to play the G-sharpchord upon all four strings, in my rapture at the harmony, I hurried tomy mother, who was in the kitchen, and played the chord so incessantlythat she was obliged to order me out. "

Young Spohr was placed under the tuition of Dufour, a French _emigré_ ofthe days of '91, who was an excellent player, though not a professional, then living at the town of Seesen, the home of the Spohr family; andunder him the boy made very rapid progress. It was Dufour who, byhis enthusiastic representations, overcame the opposition of Ludwig'sparents to the boy's devoting himself to a life of music, for the notionof the senior Spohr was that the name musician was synonymous with thatof a tavern fiddler, who played for dancers. In Germany, the land _parexcellence_ of music, there was a general contempt among the educatedclasses, during the latter years of the eighteenth century, for themusical profession. Spohr remained under the care of Dufour until he wastwelve years old, and devoted himself to his work with great sedulity. Though he as yet knew but little of counterpoint and composition, hiscreative talent already began to assert itself, and he produced severalduos and trios, as well as solo compositions, which evinced greatpromise, though crude and faulty in the extreme. He was then sentto Brunswick, that he might have the advantage of more scientificinstruction, and to this end was placed under the care of Kunisch, an excellent violin teacher, and under Hartung for harmony andcounterpoint. The latter was a sort of Dr. Dryasdust, learned, barren, acrid, but an efficient instructor. When young Spohr showed him one ofhis compositions, he growled out, "There's time enough for that; youmust learn something first. " It may be said of Spohr, however, that hisstudies in theory were for the most part self-taught, for he was a mostdiligent student of the great masters, and was gifted with a keenlyanalytic mind. 

At the age of fourteen young Spohr was an effective soloist, and, as hisfather began to complain of the heavy expense of his musical education, the boy determined to make an effort for self-support. After revolvingmany schemes, he conceived the notion of applying to the duke, who wasknown as an ardent patron of music. He managed to place himself in theway of his Serene Highness, while the latter was walking in his garden, and boldly preferred his request for an appointment in the courtorchestra. The duke was pleased to favor the application, and youngSpohr was permitted to display his skill at a court concert, in which heacquitted himself so admirably as to secure the cordial patronage of thesovereign. Said the duke: "Be industrious and well behaved, and, if youmake good progress, I will put you under the tuition of a great master. "So Louis Spohr was installed as a _Kammer-musicus_, and his patronfulfilled his promise in 1802 by placing his _protégé_ under the chargeof Francis Eck, one of the finest violinists then living. Under thetuition of this accomplished instructor, the young virtuoso made suchrapid advance in the excellence of his technique, that he was soonregarded as worthy of accompanying his master on a grand concert tourthrough the principal cities of Germany and Russia. 

II. 

This concert expedition of the two violinists, as narrated in Spohr's"Autobiography, " was full of interesting and romantic episodes. Bothmaster and pupil were of amorous and susceptible temperaments, andtheir affairs were rarely regulated by a common sense of prudence. Spohrrelates with delightful _naivete_ the circumstances under which he fellsuccessively in love, and the rapidity with which he recovered fromthese fitful spasms of the tender passion. Herr Eck, in addition to histendency to intrigues with the fairer half of creation, was also ofa quarrelsome and exacting disposition, and the general result wasceaseless squabbling with authorities and musical societies in nearlyevery city they visited. In spite of these drawbacks, however, thetwo violinists gained both in fame and purse, and were everywhere wellreceived. If Herr Eck carried off the palm over the boyish Spohr as amere executant, the impression everywhere gained ground that the latterwas by far the superior in real depth of musical science, and many ofhis own violin concertos were received with the heartiest applause. Theconcert tour came to an end at St. Petersburg in a singular way. Eckfell in love with a daughter of a member of the imperial orchestra, butthe idea of marriage did not enter into his project. As the young ladysoon felt the unfortunate results of her indiscretion, her parentscomplained to the Empress, at whose instance Eck was given the choice ofmarrying the girl or taking an enforced journey to Siberia. He chose theformer, and determined to remain in St. Petersburg, where he was offeredthe first violin of the imperial orchestra. Poor Eck found he hadmarried a shrew, and, between matrimonial discords and ill healthbrought on by years of excess, he became the victim of a nervous fever, which resulted in lunacy and confinement in a mad-house. 

Spohr returned to his native town in July, 1803, and his first meetingwith his family was a curious one. "I arrived, " he says, "at two o'clockin the morning. I landed at the Petri gate, crossed the Ocker in a boat, and hastened to my grandmother's garden, but found that the houseand garden doors were locked. As my knocking didn't arouse any one, Iclimbed over the garden wall and laid myself down in a summer-house atthe end of the garden. Wearied by the long journey, I soon fell asleep, and, notwithstanding my hard couch, would probably have slept for along while had not my aunts in their morning walk discovered me. Muchalarmed, they ran and told my grandmother that a man was asleep in thesummer-house. Returning together, the three approached nearer, and, recognizing me, I was awakened amid joyous expressions, embraces, andkisses. At first, I did not recollect where I was, but soon recognizedmy dear relations, and rejoiced at being once again in the home andscenes of my childhood. "

Spohr was most graciously received by the duke, who was satisfiedwith the proofs of industry and ambition shown by his _protege_. Thecelebrated Rode, Viotti's most brilliant pupil, was at that time inBrunswick, and Spohr, who conceived the most enthusiastic admirationof his style, set himself assiduously to the study and imitation ofthe effects peculiar to Rode. On Rode's departure, Spohr appeared in aconcert arranged for him, in which he played a new concerto dedicated tohis ducal patron, and created an enthusiasm hardly less than that madeby Rode himself. He was warmly congratulated by the duke and the court, and appointed first court-violinist, with a salary more than sufficientfor the musician's moderate wants. Shortly after this he undertookanother concert tour in conjunction with the violoncellist, Benike, through the principal German cities, which added materially tohis reputation. But no amount of world's talk or money could fullycompensate him for the loss of his magnificent violin, one of the_chefs-d'ouvre_ of Guarnerius del Gesù when that great maker was at hisbest. This instrument he had brought from Russia, and it was an imperialgift. A concert was announced for Gôttingen, and Spohr, with hiscompanion, was about to enter the town by coach, when he asked one ofthe soldiers at the guard-house if the trunk, which had been strapped tothe back of the carriage, and which contained his precious instrument, was in its place. "There is no trunk there, " was the reply. 

"With one bound, " says Spohr, "I was out of the carriage, and rushedout through the gate with a drawn hunting-knife. Had I, with morereflection, listened a while, I might have heard the thieves running outthrough a side path. But in my blind rage I had far overshot the placewhere I had last seen the trunk, and only discovered my overhaste when Ifound myself in the open field. Inconsolable for my loss, I turnedback. While my fellow-traveler looked for the inn, I hastened to thepost-office, and requested that an immediate search might be made in thegarden houses outside the gate. With astonishment and vexation, I wasinformed that the jurisdiction outside the gate belonged to Weende, andthat I must prefer my request there. As Weende was half a league fromGottingen, I was compelled to abandon for that evening all further stepsfor the recovery of my things. That these would prove fruitless on thefollowing morning I was well assured, and I passed a sleepless night ina state of mind such as in my hitherto fortunate career had been unknownto me. Had I not lost my splendid Guarneri violin, the exponent of allthe artistic success I had so far attained, I could have lightly bornethe loss of clothes and money. " The police recovered an empty trunkand the violin-case despoiled of its treasure, but still containing amagnificent Tourté bow, which the thieves had left behind. Spohr managedto borrow a Steiner violin, with which he gave his concert, but he didnot for years cease to lament the loss of his grand Guarneri fiddle. 

In 1805 Spohr was quietly settled in his avocation at Brunswick ascomposer and chief _Kam-mer-musicus_ of the ducal court, when hereceived an offer to compete for the direction of the orchestra atGotha, then one of the most magnificent organizations in Europe, to beat the head of which would give him an international fame. The offerwas too tempting to be refused, and Spohr was easily victorious. Hisnew duties were not onerous, consisting of a concert once a week, andin practicing and rehearsing the orchestra. The annual salary was fivehundred thalers. 

One of the most interesting incidents of Spohr's life now occurred. Thesusceptible heart, which had often been touched, was firmly enslavedby the charms of Dorette Schiedler, the daughter of the principal courtsinger, and herself a fine virtuoso on the harp. Dorette was a womanwhose personal loveliness was an harmonious expression of her beautyof character and artistic talent, and Spohr accepted his fate withjoy. This girl of eighteen was irresistible, for she was accomplished, beautiful, tender, as good as an angel, and with the finest talent formusic, for she played admirably, not only on the harp, but on the pianoand violin. Spohr had reason to hope that the attachment was mutual, andwas eager to declare his love. One night they were playing together at acourt concert, and Spohr after the performance noticed the duchess, withan arch look at him, whispering some words to Dorette which covered hercheeks with blushes. That night, as the lovers were returning home inthe carriage, Spohr said to her, "Shall we thus play together for life?"Dorette burst into tears, and sank into her lover's arms. The compactwas sealed by the joyous assent of the mother, and the young couple wereunited in the ducal chapel, in the presence of the duchess and a largeassemblage of friends, on the 2d of February, 1806. 

III. 

In the following year Spohr and his young wife set out on a musicaltour, "by which, " he says, "we not only reaped a rich harvest ofapplause, but saved a considerable sum of money. " On his return to Gothahe was met by a band of pupils, who unharnessed the horses from thecoach and drew him through the streets in triumph. He now devotedhimself to composition largely, and produced his first opera, "Alruna, "which is said to have been very warmly received, both at Gotha andWeimar, in which latter city it was produced under the superintendenceof the poet Goethe, who was intendant of the theatre. Spohr, however, allowed it to disappear, as his riper judgment condemned its faults morethan it favored its excellences. Among his amusing adventures, one whichhe relates in his "Autobiography" as having occurred in 1808 is worthrepeating. He tells us: "In the year 1808 took place the celebratedCongress of Sovereigns at Erfurt, on which occasion Napoleon entertainedhis friend Alexander of Russia and the various kings and princes ofGermany. The lovers of sights and the curious of the whole country roundpoured in to see the magnificence displayed. In the company of someof my pupils, I made a pedestrian excursion to Erfurt, less to see thegreat ones of the earth than to see and admire the great ones of theFrench stage, Talma and Mars. The Emperor had sent to Paris for histragic performers, who played every evening in the classic works ofCorneille and Racine. I and my companions had hoped to have seen onesuch representation, but unfortunately I was informed that they tookplace for the sovereigns and their suites alone, and that everybodyelse was excluded from them. " In this dilemma Spohr had recourse tostratagem. He persuaded four musicians of the orchestra to vacate theirplaces for a handsome consideration, and he and his pupils engaged tofill the duties. But one of the substitutes must needs be a horn-player, and the four new players could only perform on violin and 'cello. Sothere was nothing to be done but for Spohr to master the French horn ata day's notice. At the expense of swollen and painful lips, he managedthis sufficiently to play the music required with ease and precision. "Thus prepared, " he writes, "I and my pupils joined the other musicians, and, as each carried his instrument under his arm, we reached our placewithout opposition. We found the saloon in which the theatre had beenerected already brilliantly lit up and filled with the numerous suitesof the sovereigns. The seats for Napoleon and his guests were rightbehind the orchestra. Shortly after, the most able of my pupils, to whomI had assigned the direction of the music, and under whose leadership Ihad placed myself as a new-fledged hornist, had tuned up the orchestra, the high personages made their appearance, and the overture began. Theorchestra, with their faces turned to the stage, stood in a long row, and each was strictly forbidden to turn around and look with curiosityat the sovereigns. As I had received notice of this beforehand, I hadprovided myself secretly with a small looking-glass, by the help ofwhich, as soon as the music was ended, I was enabled to obtain insuccession a good view of those who directed the destinies of Europe. Nevertheless, I was soon so engrossed with the magnificent acting of thetragic artists that I abandoned my mirror to my pupils, and directed mywhole attention to the stage. But at every succeeding _entr'acte_ thepain of my lips increased, and at the close of the performance theyhad become so much swollen and blistered that in the evening I couldscarcely eat any supper. Even the next day, on my return to Gotha, my lips had a very negro-like appearance, and my young wife was not alittle alarmed when she saw me. But she was yet more nettled when I toldher that it was from kissing to such excess the pretty Erfurt women. When I had related, however, the history of my lessons on the horn, shelaughed heartily at my expense. "

In October, 1809, Spohr and his wife started on an art journey toRussia, but they were recalled by the court chamberlain, who said thatthe duchess could not spare them from the court concerts, but wouldliberally indemnify them for the loss. Spohr returned and remained athome for nearly three years, during which time he composed a number ofimportant works for orchestra and for the violin. In 1812 a visit toVienna, during which he gave a series of concerts, so delighted theViennese that Spohr was offered the direction of the Ander Wien theatreat a salary three times that received at Gotha, besides valuableemoluments. This, and the assurance of Count Palffy, the imperialintendant, that he meant to make the orchestra the finest in Europe, induced Spohr to accept the offer. 

When it became necessary for our musician to search for a domicilein Vienna, he met with another piece of good fortune. One morninga gentleman waited on him, introducing himself as a wealthy clockmanufacturer and a passionate lover of music. The stranger made aneccentric proposition. Spohr should hand over to him all that he shouldcompose or had composed for Vienna during the term of three years, theoriginal scores to be his sole property during that time, and Spohr noteven to retain a copy. "But are they not to be performed during thattime?" "Oh, yes! as often as possible; but each time on my lending themfor that purpose, and when I can be present myself. " The bargain wasstruck, and the ardent connoisseur agreed to pay thirty ducats for astring quartet, five and thirty for a quintet, forty for a sextet, etc. , according to the style of composition. Two works were sold on the spot, and Spohr said he should devote the money to house-furnishing. Herr VonTost undertook to provide the furniture complete, and the two made atour among the most fashionable shops. When Spohr protested againstpurchasing articles of extreme beauty and luxury, Von Tost said, "Makeyourself easy, I shall require no cash settlement. You will soonsquare all accounts with your manuscripts. " So the Spohr domicilewas magnificently furnished from kitchen to attic, more fitly, as themusician said, for a royal dignitary or a rich merchant than for a poorartist. Von Tost claimed he would gain two results: "First, I wish to beinvited to all the concerts and musical circles in which you willplay your compositions, and to do this I must have your scores in mypossession; secondly, in possessing such treasures of art, I hope uponmy business journeys to make a large acquaintance among the lovers ofmusic, which I may turn to account in my manufacturing interests. " Letus hope that this commercial enthusiast found his calculations verifiedby results. 

Spohr soon gave two important new works to the musical world, the operaof "Faust, " and the cantata, "The Liberation of Germany, " neither ofwhich, however, was immediately produced. Weber brought out "Faust" atPrague in 1816, and the cantata was first performed at Franken-hausen in1815, at a musical festival on the anniversary of the battle of Leipsic, a battle which turned the scale of Napoleon's career. The same year(1815) also witnessed the quarrel between Spohr and Count Palffy, whichresulted in the rupture of the former's engagement. Spohr determined tomake a long tour through Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. Before shakingthe dust of Vienna from his feet, he sold the Von Tost household atauction, and the sum realized was even larger than what had been paidfor it, so vivid were the public curiosity and interest in view of thestrange bargain under which the furniture had been bought. On the 18thof March, 1815, Louis Spohr, with his beloved Dorette and young family, which had increased with truly German fecundity, bade farewell toVienna. 

Two years of concert-giving and sight-seeing swiftly passed, to thegreat augmentation of the German violinist's fame. On Spohr's returnhome he was invited to become the opera and music director of theFrankfort Theatre, and for two years more he labored arduously at thispost. He produced the opera of "Zemire and Azar" (founded on the fairyfable of "Beauty and the Beast" ) during this period among other works, and it was very enthusiastically received by the public. This opera wasafterward given in London, in English, with great success, though theopinion of the critics was that it was too scientific for the Englishtaste. 

IV. 

Louis Spohr's first visit to England was in 1820, whither he went oninvitation of the Philharmonic Society. He gives an amusing account ofhis first day in London, on the streets of which city he appeared ina most brilliantly colored shawl waistcoat, and narrowly escaped beingpelted by the enraged mob, for the English people were then in mourningfor the death of George III, which had recently occurred, and Spohr'sgay attire was construed as a public insult. He played several of hisown works at the opening Philharmonic concert, and the brilliant veteranof the violin, Viotti, to become whose pupil had once been Spohr'sdarling but ungratified dream, expressed the greatest admiration of theGerman virtuoso's magnificent playing. The "Autobiography" relates anamusing interview of Spohr with the head of the Rothschild's bankingestablishment, to whom he had brought a letter of introduction from theFrankfort Rothschild, as well as a letter of credit. "After Rothschildhad taken both letters from me and glanced hastily over them, he saidto me, in a subdued tone of voice, 'I have just read (pointing tothe "Times") that you manage your business very efficiently; but Iunderstand nothing of music. This is my music (slapping his purse); theyunderstand that on the exchange. ' Upon which with a nod of the head heterminated the audience. But just as I had reached the door he calledafter me, 'You can come out and dine with me at my country house. ' A fewdays afterward Mme. Rothschild also invited me to dinner, but I did notgo, though she repeated the invitation. "

While in London on this visit Spohr composed his B flat Symphony, which was given by the Philharmonic Society under the direction of thecomposer himself, and, as he tells us in his "Autobiography, " it wasplayed better than he ever heard it afterward. His English reception, onthe whole, was a very cordial one, and he secured a very high placein public estimation, both as a violinist and orchestral composer. Onreturning to Germany, Spohr gave a series of concerts, during which timehe produced his great D minor violin concerto, making a great sensationwith it. He had not yet visited Paris in a professional way, and in thewinter of 1821 he turned his steps thitherward, in answer to a pressinginvitation from the musicians of that great capital. On January 20th hemade his _début_ before a French audience, and gave a programme mostlyof his own compositions. Spohr asserts that the satisfaction of theaudience was enthusiastically expressed, but the fact that he did notrepeat the entertainment would suggest a suspicion that the impressionhe made was not fully to his liking. It may be he did not dare takethe risk in a city so full of musical attractions of every description. Certainly he did not like the French, though his reception from theartists and literati was of the most friendly sort. He was disgusted"with the ridiculous vanity of the Parisians. " He writes: "When one orother of their musicians plays anything, they say, 'Well! can youboast of that in Germany?' Or when they introduce to you one of theirdistinguished artists, they do not call him the first in Paris, but atonce the first in the world, although no nation knows less what othercountries possess than they do, in their--for their vanity's sake mostfortunate--ignorance. "

Spohr's appointment to the directorship of the court theatre at Casseloccurred in the winter of 1822, and he confesses his pleasure in thepost, as he believed he could make its fine orchestra one of the mostcelebrated in Germany. He remained in this position for about thirtyyears, and during that time Cassel became one of the greatest musicalcenters of the country. His labors were assiduous, for he had thetrue tireless German industry, and he soon gave the world his operaof "Jessonda, " which was first produced on July 28, 1823, with markedsuccess. "Jessonda" has always kept its hold on the German stage, thoughit was not received with much favor elsewhere. Another opera, "Der BergGeist" ("The Mountain Spirit"), quickly followed, the work having beenwritten to celebrate the marriage of the Princess of Hesse with the Dukeof Saxe-Meiningen. One of his most celebrated compositions, the oratorio"Die Letzten Dinge" ("The Last Judgment"), which is more familiarto English-speaking peoples than any other work of Spohr, was firstperformed on Good Friday, 1826, and was recognized from the first asa production of masterly excellence. Spohr's ability as a composer ofsacred music would have been more distinctly accepted, had it not beenthat Handel, Haydn, and, in more recent years, Mendelssohn, raised theideal of the oratorio so high that only the very loftiest musical geniusis considered fit to reign in this sphere. The director of the Casseltheatre continued indefatigable in producing works of greater or lessexcellence, chamber-music, symphonies, and operas. Among the latter, attention may be called to "Pietro Albano" and the "Alchemist, " cleverbut in no sense brilliant works, though, as it became the fashion inGermany to indulge in enthusiasm over Spohr, they were warmly praisedat home. The best known of his orchestral works, "Die Weihe der Tone" ("The Power of Sound"), a symphony of unquestionable greatness, wasproduced in 1832. We are told that Spohr had been reading a volume ofpoems which his deceased friend Pfeiffer had left behind him, when healighted on "Die Weihe der Tone, " and the words delighted him so muchthat he thought of using them as the basis of a cantata. But he changedhis purpose, and finally decided to delineate the subject of the poemin orchestral composition. The finest of all Spohr's symphonies was theoutcome, a work which ranks high among compositions of this class. Histoil on the new oratorio of "Calvary" was sadly interrupted by the deathof his beloved wife Dorette, who had borne him a large family, and hadbeen his most sympathetic and devoted companion. Spohr was so brokendown by this calamity that it was several months before he could resumehis labors, and it was because Dorette during her illness had felt sucha deep interest in the progress of the work that the desolate husbandso soon plucked heart to begin again. When the oratorio was produced onGood Friday, 1835, Spohr records in his diary: "The thought that my wifedid not live to listen to its first performance sensibly lessened thesatisfaction I felt at this my most successful work. " This oratorio wasnot given in England till 1839, at the Norwich festival, Spohr beingpresent to conduct it. The zealous and narrow-minded clergy of the daypreached bitterly against it as a desecration, and one fierce bigothurled his diatribes against the composer, when the latter was presentin the cathedral. A journal of the day describes the scene: "We now seethe fanatical zealot in the pulpit, and sitting right opposite to himthe great composer, with ears happily deaf to the English tongue, butwith a demeanor so becoming, with a look so full of pure good-will, andwith so much humility and mildness in the features, that his countenancealone spoke to the heart like a good sermon. Without intending it, wemake a comparison, and can not for a moment doubt in which of the twodwelt the spirit of religion which denoted the true Christian. "

Spohr had been two years a widower when he became enamored of one ofthe daughters of Court Councilor Pfeiffer. He tells us he had long beenacquainted "with the high and varied intellectual culture of the twosisters, and so I became fully resolved to sue for the hand of theelder, Marianne, whose knowledge of music and skill in pianoforteplaying I had already observed when she sometimes gave her assistanceat the concerts of the St. Cecilia Society. As I had not the courageto propose to her by word of mouth, there being more than twenty yearsdifference in our ages, I put the question to her in writing, and added, in excuse for my courtship, the assurance that I was as yet perfectlyfree from the infirmities of age. " The proposition was accepted, andthey were married without delay on January 3, 1836. The bridal couplemade a long journey through the principal German cities, and wereuniversally received with great rejoicings. Musical parties and banquetswere everywhere arranged for them, at which Spohr and his youngwife delighted every one by their splendid playing. The "Historical"symphony, descriptive of the music and characteristics of differentperiods, was finished in 1839, and made a very favorable impression bothin Germany and England. Spohr had now become quite at home in England, where his music was much liked, and during different years went to thecountry, where oratorio music is more appreciated than anywhere elsein the musical world, to conduct the Norwich festival. One of his mostsuccessful compositions of this description, "The Fall of Babylon, " waswritten expressly for the festival of 1842. When it was given the nextyear in London under Spohr's own direction, the president of the SacredHarmonic Society presented the composer at the close of the performancewith a superb silver testimonial in the name of the society. 

V. 

Louis Spohr had now become one of the patriarchs of music, for his lifespanned a longer arch in the history of the art than any contemporaryexcept Cherubini. He was seven years old when Mozart died, and beforeHaydn had departed from this life Spohr had already begun to acquirea name as a violinist and composer. He lived to be the friend ofMendelssohn, Meyerbeer, Liszt, and Wagner. Everywhere he was held inveneration, even by those who did not fully sympathize with his musicalworks, for his career had been one of great fecundity in art. Inaddition to his rank as one of the few very great violin virtuosos, hehad been indefatigable in the production of compositions in nearly allstyles, and every country of Europe recognized his place as a musicianof supereminent talent, if not of genius, one who had profoundlyinfluenced contemporary music, even if he should not mold the art ofsucceeding ages. Testimonials of admiration and respect poured in on himfrom every quarter. 

He composed the opera of "The Crusaders" in 1845, and he was invitedto conduct the first performance in Berlin. He relates two pleasingincidents in his "Autobiography. " He had been invited to a select dinnerparty given at the royal palace, and between the king and Spohr, whowas seated opposite, there intervened an ornamental centerpieceof considerable height in the shape of a flower vase. This greatlyinterfered with the enjoyment by the king of Spohr's conversation. Atlast his Majesty, growing impatient, removed the impediment with his ownhands, so that he had a full view of Spohr. 

The other incident was a pleasing surprise from his colleagues in art. He was a guest of the Wickmann family, and they were all gathered in theilluminated garden saloon, when there entered through the gloom of thegarden a number of dark figures swiftly following each other, who provedto be the members of the royal orchestra, with Meyerbeer and Taubert attheir head. The senior member then presented Spohr with a beautifullyexecuted gold laurel-wreath, while Meyerbeer made a speech full offeeling, in which he thanked him for his enthusiastic love of Germanart, and for all the grand and beautiful works which he had created, specially "The Crusaders. " The twenty-fifth anniversary of Spohr'sconnection with the court theatre of Cassel occurred in 1847, and wasto have been celebrated with a great festival. The death of FelixBartholdy Mendelssohn cast a great gloom over musical Germany thatyear, so the festival was held not in honor of Spohr, but as a solemnmemorial of the departed genius whose name is a household word among allthose who love the art he so splendidly illustrated. 

Spohr's next production was the fine symphony known as "The Seasons, "one of the most picturesque and expressive of his orchestral works, inwhich he depicts with rich musical color the vicissitudes of the yearand the associations clustering around them. This symphony was followedby his seventh quintet, in G minor, another string quartet, thethirty-second, and a series of pieces for the violin and piano, and in1852 we find the indefatigable composer busy in remodeling his opera of"Faust" for production by Mr. Gye, in London. It was produced with greatsplendor in the English capital, and conducted by Spohr himself; butit did not prove a great success, a deep disappointment to Spohr, whofondly believed this work to be his masterpiece. "On this occasion, "writes a very competent critic, _à propos_ of the first performance, "there was a certain amount of heaviness about the performance whichtold very much against the probability of that opera ever becominga favorite with the Royal Italian Opera subscribers. Nothing couldpossibly exceed the poetical grace of Eonconi in the title rôle, orsurpass the propriety and expression of his singing. Mme. Castellan's_Cunegonda_ was also exceedingly well sung, and Tamberlik outdid himselfby his thorough comprehension of the music, the splendor of his voice, and the refinement of his vocalization in the character of _Ugo_. . . . The _Mephistopheles_ of Herr Formes was a remarkable personation, beingtruly demoniacal in the play of his countenance, and as characteristicas any one of Retsch's drawings of Goethe's fiend-tempter. His singingbeing specially German was in every way well suited to the occasion. " Inspite of the excellence of the interpretation, Spohr's "Faust" did nottake any hold on the lovers of music in England, and even in Germany, where Spohr is held in great reverence, it presents but littleattraction. The closing years of Spohr's active life as a musician weredevoted to that species of composition where he showed indubitabletitle to be considered a man of genius, works for the violin and chambermusic. He himself did not recognize his decadence of energy and musicalvigor; but the veteran was more than seventy years old, and his royalmaster resolved to put his baton in younger and fresher hands. So he wasretired from service with an annual pension of fifteen hundred thalers. Spohr felt this deeply, but he had scarcely reconciled himself to thechange when a more serious casualty befell him. He fell and broke hisleft arm, which never gained enough strength for him to hold the belovedinstrument again. It had been the great joy and solace of his life toplay, and, now that in his old age he was deprived of this comfort, hewas ready to die. Only once more did he make a public appearance. In thespring of 1859 he journeyed to Meiningen to direct a concert on behalfof a charitable fund. An ovation was given to the aged master. Acolossal bust of himself was placed on the stage, arched with festoonsof palm and laurel, and the conductor's stand was almost buried inflowers. He was received with thunders of welcome, which were again andagain reiterated, and at the close of the performance he could hardlyescape for the eager throng who wished to press his hand. Spohr died onOctober 22, 1859, after a few days' illness, and in his death Germany atleast recognized the loss of one of its most accomplished and versatileif not greatest composers. 

VI. 

Dr. Ludwig Spohr's fame as a composer has far overshadowed hisreputation as a violin virtuoso, but the most capable musical criticsunite in the opinion that that rare quality, which we denominate genius, was principally shown in his wonderful power as a player, and his workswritten for the violin. Spohr was a man of immense self-assertion, andbelieved in the greatness of his own musical genius as a composer in thehigher domain of his art. His "Autobiography, " one of the most fresh, racy, and interesting works of the kind ever written, is full of variedillustrations of what Chorley stigmatizes his "bovine self-conceit. " Hisfecund production of symphony, oratorio, and opera, as well as of themore elaborate forms of chamber music, for a period of forty years ormore, proves how deep was his conviction of his own powers. Indeed, hehalf confesses himself that he is only willing to be rated a littleless than Beethoven. Spohr was singularly meager, for the most part, inmusical ideas and freshness of melody, but he was a profound master ofthe orchestra; and in that variety and richness of resources whichgive to tone-creations the splendor of color, which is one of the greatcharms of instrumental music, Spohr is inferior only to Wagner amongmodern symphonists. Spohr's more pretentious works are a singular unionof meagerness of idea with the most polished richness of manner; but, inimagination and thought, he is far the inferior of those whose knowledgeof treating the orchestra and contrapuntal skill could not compare withhis. There are more vigor and originality in one of Schubert's greatersymphonies than in all the multitudinous works of the same class everwritten by Spohr. In Spohr's compositions for the violin as a soloinstrument, however, he stands unrivaled, for here his true _genre_ as aman of creative genius stamps itself unmistakably. 

Before the coming of Spohr violin music had been illustrated by asuccession of virtuosos, French and Italian, who, though melodiouslycharming, planned in their works and execution to exhibit the effectsand graces of the players themselves instead of the instrument. Paganinicarried this tendency to its most remarkable and fascinating extreme, but Spohr founded a new style of violin playing, on which the greatestmodern performers who have grown up since his prime have assiduouslymodeled themselves. Mozart had written solid and simple concertos inwhich the performer was expected to embroider and finish the composer'ssketch. This required genius and skill under instant command, insteadof merely phenomenal execution. Again, Beethoven's concertos were sowritten as to make the solo player merely one of the orchestra, chaininghim in bonds only to set him free to deliver the cadenza. This speciesof self-effacement does not consort with the purpose of solo playing, which is display, though under that display there should be power, mastery, and resource of thought, and not the trickery of theaccomplished juggler. Spohr in his violin music most felicitouslyaccomplished this, and he is simply incomparable in his compromisebetween what is severe and classical, and what is suave and delightful, or passionately exciting. In these works the musician finds nerve, sparkle, _elan_, and brightness combined with technical charm andrichness of thought. Spohr's unconscious and spontaneous force in thisdirection was the direct outcome of his remarkable power as a soloplayer, or, more properly, gathered its life-like play and strength fromthe latter fact. It may be said of Spohr that, as Mozart raised opera toa higher standard, as Beethoven uplifted the ideal of the orchestra, asClementi laid a solid foundation for piano-playing, so Spohr's creativeforce as a violinist and writer for the violin has establishedthe grandest school for this instrument, to which all the foremostcontemporary artists acknowledge their obligations. 

Dr. Spohr's style as a player, while remarkable for its display oftechnique and command of resource, always subordinated mere display tothe purpose of the music. The Italians called him "the first singer onthe violin, " and his profound musical knowledge enabled him to produceeffects in a perfectly legitimate manner, where other players hadrecourse to meretricious and dazzling exhibition of skill. His title torecollection in the history of music will not be so much that of a greatgeneral composer, but that of the greatest of composers for the violin, and the one who taught violinists that height of excellence as anexcutant should go hand in hand with good taste and self-restraint, toproduce its most permanent effects and exert its most vital influence. 

NICOLO PAGANINI. 

The Birth of the Greatest of Violinists. --His Mother'sDream--Extraordinary Character and Genius. --Heine's Description of hisPlaying. --Leigh Hunt on Paganini. --Superstitious Rumors currentduring his Life. --He is believed to be a Demoniac. --His StrangeAppearance. --Early Training and Surroundings. --Anecdotes of hisYouth. --Paganini's Youthful Dissipations. --His Passion for Gambling. --Heacquires his Wonderful Guarnerius Violin. --His Reform fromthe Gaming-table. --Indefatigable Practice and Work as a YoungArtist. --Paganini as a _Preux Chevalier_. --His Powerful Attraction forWomen. --Episode with a Lady of Rank. --Anecdotes of his Early ItalianConcertizing. --The Imbroglio at Ferrant. --The Frail Health ofPaganini. --Wonderful Success at Milan, where he first plays One ofthe Greatest of his Compositions, "Le Streghe. "--Duel withLafont. --Incidents and Anecdotes. --His First Visit to Germany. --GreatEnthusiasm of his Audiences. --Experiences at Vienna, Berlin, and otherGerman Cities. --Description of Paganini, in Paris, by Castil-Blaze andFetis. --His English Reception and the Impression made. --Opinions of theCritics. --Paganini not pleased with England. --Settles in Paris for TwoYears, and becomes the Great Musical Lion. --Simplicity and Amiabilityof Nature. --Magnificent Generosity to Hector Berlioz. --The GreatFortune made by Paganini. --His Beautiful Country Seat near Parma. --AnUnfortunate Speculation in Paris. --The Utter Failure of hisHealth. --His Death at Nice. --Characteristics and Anecdotes. --InterestingCircumstances of his Last Moments. --The Peculiar Genius of Paganini, andhis Influence on Art. 

I. 

In the latter part of the last century an Italian woman of Genoa had adream which she thus related to her little son: "My son, you will be agreat musician. An angel radiant with beauty appeared to me during thenight and promised to accomplish any wish that I might make. I askedthat you should become the greatest of all violinists, and the angelgranted that my desire should be fulfilled. " The child who was thusaddressed became that incomparable artist, Paganini, whose name now, a glorious tradition, is used as a standard by which to estimate theexcellence of those who have succeeded him. 

No artist ever lived who so piqued public curiosity, and investedhimself with a species of weird romance, which compassed him as with acloud. The personality of the individual so unique and extraordinary, the genius of the artist so transcendant in its way, the mystery whichsurrounded all the movements of the man, conspired to make him anobject of such interest that the announcement of a concert by him inany European city made as much stir as some great public event. Crowdsfollowed his strange figure in the streets wherever he went, and, hadthe time been the mediaeval ages, he himself a celebrated magician orsorcerer, credited with power over the spirits of earth and air, hisappearance could not have aroused a thrill of attention more absorbing. Over men of genius, as well as the commonplace herd, he cast the samespell, stamping himself as a personage who could be compared with noother. 

The German poet Heine thus describes his first acquaintance with thisparagon of violinists:

"It was in the theatre at Hamburg that I first heard Paganini's violin. Although it was fast-day, all the commercial magnates of the town werepresent in the front boxes, the goddesses Juno of Wandrahm, and thegoddesses Aphrodite of Dreckwall. A religious hush pervaded the wholeassembly; every eye was directed toward the stage, every ear wasstrained for hearing. At last a dark figure, which seemed to ascend fromthe under world, appeared on the stage. It was Paganini in full eveningdress, black coat and waistcoat cut after a most villainous pattern, such as is perhaps in accordance with the infernal etiquette of thecourt of Proserpine, and black trousers fitting awkwardly to his thinlegs. His long arms appeared still longer as he advanced, holding in onehand his violin, and in the other the bow, hanging down so as almostto touch the ground--all the while making a series of extraordinaryreverences. In the angular contortions of his body there was somethingso painfully wooden, and also something so like the movements of a drollanimal, that a strange disposition to laughter overcame the audience;but his face, which the glaring footlights caused to assume an evenmore corpse-like aspect than was natural to it, had in it something soappealing, something so imbecile and meek, that a strange feelingof compassion removed all tendency to laughter. Had he learned thesereverences from an automaton or a performing dog? Is this beseechinglook the look of one who is sick unto death, or does there lurk behindit the mocking cunning of a miser? Is that a mortal who in the agonyof death stands before the public in the art arena, and, like a dyinggladiator, bids for their applause in his last convulsions? or is itsome phantom arisen from the grave, a vampire with a violin, who comesto suck, if not the blood from our hearts, at least the money from ourpockets? Questions such as these kept chasing each other through thebrain while Paganini continued his apparently interminable series ofcomplimentary bows; but all such questionings instantly take flight themoment the great master puts his violin to his chin and began to play. 

"Then were heard melodies such as the nightingale pours forth in thegloaming when the perfume of the rose intoxicates her heart with sweetforebodings of spring! What melting, sensuously languishing notes ofbliss! Tones that kissed, then poutingly fled from another, and at lastembraced and became one, and died away in the ecstasy of union! Again, there were heard sounds like the song of the fallen angels, who, banished from the realms of bliss, sink with shame-red countenance tothe lower world. These were sounds out of whose bottomless depth gleamedno ray of hope or comfort; when the blessed in heaven hear them, thepraises of God die away upon their pallid lips, and, sighing, they veiltheir holy faces. " Leigh Hunt, in one of his essays, thus describes theplaying of this greatest of all virtuosos: "Paganini, the first timeI saw and heard him, and the first moment he struck a note, seemedliterally to strike it, to _give_ it a blow. The house was so crammedthat, being among the squeezers in the standing room at the side of thepit, I happened to catch the first glance of his face through the armsakimbo of a man who was perched up before me, which made a kind offrame for it; and there on the stage through that frame, as through aperspective glass, were the face, the bust, and the raised hand ofthe wonderful musician, with the instrument at his chin, just going tobegin, and looking exactly as I describe him in the following lines:

 "His hand, Loading the air with dumb expectancy, Suspended, ere it fell, a nation's breath. He _smote_; and clinging to the serious chords With Godlike ravishment drew forth a breath, So deep, so strong, so fervid, thick with love-- Blissful, yet laden as with twenty prayers-- That Juno yearned with no diviner soul To the first burthen of the lips of Jove. The exceeding mystery of the loveliness Sadden'd delight; and, with his mournful look, Dreary and gaunt, hanging his pallid face Twixt his dark flowing locks, he almost seemed Too feeble, or to melancholy eyes One that has parted from his soul for pride, And in the sable secret lived forlorn. 

"To show the depth and identicalness of the impression which he madeon everybody, foreign or native, an Italian who stood near me said tohimself, with a long sigh, 'O Dio!' and this had not been said long, when another person in the same tone uttered 'Oh Christ!' Musicianspressed forward from behind the scenes to get as close to him aspossible, and they could not sleep at night for thinking of him. "

The impression made by Paganini was something more than that of a great, even the greatest, violinist. It was as if some demoniac power laybehind the human, prisoned and dumb except through the agencies ofmusic, but able to fill expression with faint, far-away cries ofpassion, anguish, love, and aspiration--echoes from the supernaturaland invisible. His hearers forgot the admiration due to the wonderfulvirtuoso, and seemed to listen to voices from another world. The strangerumors that were current about him, Paganini seems to have been notdisinclined to encourage, for, mingled with his extraordinary genius, there was an element of charlatanism. It was commonly reported thathis wonderful execution on the G-string was due to a long imprisonment, inflicted on him for the assassination of a rival in love, during whichhe had a violin with one string only. Paganini himself writes that, "AtVienna one of the audience affirmed publicly that my performance wasnot surprising, for he had distinctly seen, while I was playing myvariations, the devil at my elbow, directing my arm and guiding my bow. My resemblance to the devil was a proof of my origin. " Even sensiblepeople believed that Paganini had some uncanny and unlawful secret whichenabled him to do what was impossible for other players. At Prague heactually printed a letter from his mother to prove that he was not theson of the devil. It was not only the perfectly novel and astonishingcharacter of his playing, but to a large extent his ghostlikeappearance, which caused such absurd rumors. The tall, skeleton-likefigure, the pale, narrow, wax-colored face, the long, dark, disheveledhair, the mysterious expression of the heavy eye, made a weirdly strange_ensemble_. Heine tells us in "The Florentine Nights" that only oneartist had succeeded in delineating the real physiognomy of Paganini: "Adeaf and crazy painter, called Lyser, has in a sort of spiritual frenzyso admirably portrayed by a few touches of his pencil the head ofPaganini that one is dismayed and moved to laughter at the faithfulnessof the sketch! 'The devil guided my hand, ' said the deaf painter to me, with mysterious gesticulations and a satirical yet good-natured wag ofthe head, such as he was wont to indulge in when in the midst of hisgenial tomfoolery. "

II. 

Nicolo Paganini was born at Genoa on the night of February 18, 1784, of parents in humbly prosperous circumstances, his father being aship-broker, and, though illiterate in a general way, a passionate loverof music and an amateur of some skill. The father soon perceived thechild's talent, and caused him to study so severely that it not onlyaffected his constitution, but actually made him a tolerable player atthe age of six years. The elder Paganini's knowledge of music was notsufficient to carry the lad far in mastering the instrument, but theextraordinary precocity shown so interested Signor Corvetto, the leaderat the Genoese theatre, that he undertook to instruct the gifted child. Two years later the young Paganini was transferred to the charge ofSignor Giacomo Costa, an excellent violinist, and director of churchmusic at one of the cathedrals, under whom he made rapid progress inexecutive skill, while he studied harmony and counterpoint under thecomposer Gnecco. It was at this time, Paganini not yet being nine yearsof age, that he composed his first piece, a sonata now lost. In 1793 hemade his first appearance in public at Genoa, and played variationson the air "La Carmagnole, " then so popular, with immense effect. This_début_ was followed by several subsequent appearances, in which hecreated much enthusiasm. He also played a violin concerto every Sundayin church, an attraction which drew great throngs. This practice wasof great use to Paganini, as it forced him continually to study freshmusic. About the year 1795 it was deemed best to place the boy underthe charge of an eminent professor, and Alessandro Rolla, of Parma, waspitched on. When the Paganinis arrived, they found the learned professorill, and rather surly at the disturbance. Young Paganini, however, speedily silenced the complaints of the querulous invalid. The greatplayer himself relates the anecdote: "His wife showed us into a roomadjoining the bedroom, till she had spoken to the sick man. Finding onthe table a violin and the music of Rolla's latest concerto, I tookup the instrument and played the piece at sight. Astonished at whathe heard, the composer asked for the name of the player, and could notbelieve it was only a young boy till he had seen for himself. He thentold me that he had nothing to teach me, and advised me to go to Paërfor study in composition. " But, as Paër was at this time in Germany, Paganini studied under Ghiretti and Rolla himself while he remained inParma, according to the monograph of Fetis. 

The youthful player had already begun to search out new effects on theviolin, and to create for himself characteristics of tone and treatmenthitherto unknown to players. After his return to Genoa he composed hisfirst "Études, " which were of such unheard-of difficulty that he wassometimes obliged to practice a single passage ten hours running. Hisintense study resulted not only in his acquirement of an unlimitedexecution, but in breaking down his health. His father was a harsh andinexorable taskmaster, and up to this time Paganini (now being fourteen)had remained quiescent under this tyrant's control. But the desire ofliberty was breeding projects in his breast, which opportunity soonfavored. He managed to get permission to travel alone for the firsttime to Lucca, where he had engaged to play at the musical festivalin November, 1798. He was received with so much enthusiasm that hedetermined not to return to the paternal roof, and at once set offto fulfill engagements at Pisa and other towns. In vain the angry andmortified father sought to reclaim the young rebel who had slippedthrough his fingers. Nicolo found the sweets of freedom too preciousto go back again to bondage, though he continued to send his father aportion of the proceeds of his playing. 

The youth, intoxicated with the license of his life, plunged into allkinds of dissipation, specially into gambling, at this time a universalvice in Italy, as indeed it was throughout Europe. Alternate fits ofstudy and gaming, both of which he pursued with equal zeal, and theexhaustion of the life he led, operated dangerously on his enfeebledframe, and fits of illness frequently prevented his fulfillment ofconcert engagements. More than once he wasted in one evening theproceeds of several concerts, and was obliged to borrow money on hisviolin, the source of his livelihood, in order to obtain funds wherewithto pay his gambling debts. Anything more wild, debilitating, and ruinousthan the life led by this boy, who had barely emerged from childhood, can hardly be imagined. On one occasion he was announced for a concertat Leghorn, but he had gambled away his money and pawned his violin, sothat he was compelled to get the loan of an instrument in order to playin the evening. In this emergency he applied to M. Livron, a Frenchgentleman, a merchant of Leghorn, and an excellent amateur performer, who possessed a Guarneri del Gesù violin, reputed among connoisseurs oneof the finest instruments in the world. The generous Frenchman instantlyacceded to the boy's wish, and the precious violin was put in his hands. After the concert, when Paganini returned the instrument to M. Livron, the latter, who had been to hear him, exclaimed, "Never will I profanethe strings which your fingers have touched! That instrument is yours. "The astonishment and delight of the young artist may be more easilyimagined than described. It was upon this violin that Paganini afterwardperformed in all his concerts, and the great virtuoso left it to thetown of Genoa, where it is now preserved in a glass case in the Museum. An excellent engraving of it, from a photograph, was published in 1875in George Hart's book on "The Violin. "

At this period of his life, between the ages of seventeen and twenty, Nicolo Paganini was surrounded by numerous admirers, and led intoall kinds of dissipation. He was naturally amiable and witty inconversation, though he has been reproached with selfishness. There canbe no doubt that he was, at this period, constantly under the combinedinfluences of flattery and unbounded ambition; nevertheless, in spiteof all his successful performances at concerts, the style of life he wasleading kept him so poor that he frequently took in hand all kindsof musical work to supply the wants of the moment. It is a curiouscoincidence that the fine violin which was presented to him by M. Livron, as we have just seen, was the cause of his abandoning, after awhile, the allurements of the gaming-tables. Paganini tells us himselfthat a certain nobleman was anxious to possess this instrument, and hadoffered for it a sum equivalent to about four hundred dollars; but theartist would not sell it even if one thousand had been offered for it, although he was, at this juncture, in great need of funds to pay off adebt of honor, and sorely tempted to accept the proffered amount. Justat this point Paganini received an invitation to a friend's house wheregambling was the order of the day. "All my capital, " he says, "consistedof thirty francs, as I had disposed of my jewels, watch, rings, etc. ;I nevertheless resolved on risking this last resource, and, if fortuneproved fickle, to sell my violin and proceed to St. Petersburg, withoutinstrument or baggage, with the view of reestablishing my affairs. Mythirty francs were soon reduced to three, and I already fancied myselfon the road to Russia, when luck took a sudden turn, and I won onehundred and sixty francs. This saved my violin and completely set me up. From that day forward I gradually gave up gaming, becoming more and moreconvinced that a gambler is an object of contempt to all well-regulatedminds. "

III. 

Love-making was also among the diversions which Paganini began earlyto practice. Like nearly all great musicians, he was an object of greatfascination to the fair sex, and his life had its full share of amorousromances. A strange episode was his retirement in the country château ofa beautiful Bolognese lady for three years, between the years 1801and 1804. Here, in the society of a lovely woman, who was passionatelydevoted to him, and amid beautiful scenery, he devoted himself topracticing and composition, also giving much study to the guitar (thefavorite instrument of his inamorata), on which he became a wonderfulproficient. This charming idyl in Paganini's life reminds one of theretirement of the pianist Chopin to the island of Majorca in the companyof Mme. George Sand. It was during this period of his life that Paganinicomposed twelve of his finest sonatas for violin and guitar. 

When our musician returned again to Genoa and active life in 1804, hedevoted much time also to composition. He was twenty years of age, and wrote here four grand quartets for violin, tenor, violoncello, and guitar, and also some bravura variations for violin with guitaraccompaniment. At this period he gave lessons to a young girl of Genoa, Catherine Calcagno, about seven years of age; eight years later, whenonly fifteen years old, this young lady astonished Italian audiences bythe boldness of her style. She continued her artistic career till theyear 1816, when she had attained the age of twenty-one, and all tracesof her in the musical world appear to be lost; doubtless, at this periodshe found a husband, and retired completely from public life. 

In 1805 Paganini accepted the position of director of music andconductor of the opera orchestra at Lucca, under the immediate patronageof the Princess Eliza, sister of Napoleon and wife of Bacciochi. Theprince took lessons from him on the violin, and gave him whole charge ofthe court music. It was at the numerous concerts given at Lucca duringthis period of Paganini's early career that he first elaborated many ofthose curious effects, such as performances on one string, harmonicand pizzicato passages, which afterward became so characteristic of hisstyle. 

But the demon of unrest would not permit Paganini to remain very longin one place. In 1808 he began his wandering career of concert-givingafresh, performing throughout northern Italy, and amassing considerablemoney, for his fame had now become so widespread that engagements pouredon him thick and fast. The lessons of his inconsiderate past had alreadymade a deep impression on his mind, and Paganini became very economical, a tendency which afterward developed into an almost miserly passion formoney-getting and -saving, though, through his whole life, he performedmany acts of magnificent generosity. He had numerous curious adventures, some of which are worth recording. At a concert in Leghorn he came onthe stage, limping, from the effects of a nail which had run into hisfoot. This made a great laugh. Just as he began to play, the candlesfell out of his music desk, and again there was an uproar. Suddenly thefirst string broke, and there was more hilarity; but, says Paganini, naively, "I played the piece on three strings, and the sneers quicklychanged into boisterous applause. " At Ferrara he narrowly escaped anenraged audience with his life. It had been arranged that a certainSignora Marcolini should take part in his concert, but illness preventedher singing, and at the last moment Paganini secured the services ofSignora Pallerini, who, though a danseuse, possessed an agreeable voice. The lady was very nervous and diffident, but sang exceedingly well, though there were a few in the audience who were inconsiderate enough tohiss. Paganini was furious at this insult, and vowed to be avenged. Atthe end of the concert he proposed to amuse the audience by imitatingthe noises of various animals on his violin. After he had reproduced themewing of a cat, the barking of a dog, the crowing of a cock, etc. , headvanced to the footlights and called out, "Questo è per quelli chehan fischiato" ("This is for those who hissed"), and imitated in anunmistakable way the braying of the jackass. At this the pit rose toa man, and charged through the orchestra, climbed the stage, and wouldhave killed Paganini, had he not fled incontinently, "standing not onthe order of his going, but going at once. " The explanation of thissensitiveness of the audience is found in the fact that the people ofFerrara had a general reputation for stupidity, and the appearance ofa Ferrarese outside of the town walls was the signal for a significanthee-haw. Paganini never gave any more concerts in that town. 

As he approached his thirtieth year his delicate and highly strungorganization, already undermined by the excesses of his earlyyouth, began to give way. He was frequently troubled with internalinflammation, and he was obliged to regulate his habits in the strictestfashion as to diet and hours of sleep. Even while comparatively well, his health always continued to be very frail. 

Paganini composed his remarkable variations called "Le Streghe" ("TheWitches") at Milan in 1813. In this composition, the air of which wastaken from a ballet by Sussmayer, called "Il Noce de Benevento, " at thepart where the witches appear in the piece as performed on the stage, the violinist introduced many of his most remarkable effects. He playedthis piece for the first time at La Scala theatre, and he was honoredwith the most tumultuous enthusiasm, which for a long time prevented theprogress of the programme. Paganini always had a predilection for Milanafterward, and said he enjoyed giving concerts there more than at anyother city in Europe. He gave no less than thirty-seven concerts herein 1813. In this city, three years afterward, occurred his interestingmusical duel with Lafont, the well-known French violinist. Paganiniwas then at Genoa, and, hearing of Lafont's presence at Milan, atonce hastened to that city to hear him play. "His performance, " saidPagani-ni, "pleased me exceedingly. " When the Italian violinist, a weeklater, gave a concert at La Scala, Lafont was in the audience, and thevery next day he proposed that Paganini and himself should play togetherat the same concert. "I excused myself, " said Paganini, "alleging thatsuch experiments were impolitic, as the public invariably looked uponthese matters as duels, in which there must be a victim, and that itwould be so in this case; for, as he was acknowledged to be the best ofthe French violinists, so the public indulgently considered me to bethe best player in Italy. Lafont not looking at it in this light, I wasobliged to accept the challenge. I allowed him to arrange the programme. We each played a concerto of our own composition, after which we playedtogether a duo concertante by Kreutzer. In this I did not deviate in theleast from the composer's text while we played together, but in the soloparts I yielded freely to my own imagination, and introduced severalnovelties, which seemed to annoy my adversary. Then followed a 'RussianAir, ' with variations, by Lafont, and I finished the concert with myvariations called 'Le Streghe. ' Lafont probably surpassed me in tone;but the applause which followed my efforts convinced me that I did notsuffer by comparison. " There seems to be no question that the victoryremained with Paganini. A few years later Paganini played in a similarcontest with the Polish violinist Lipinski, at Placentia. The twoartists, however, were intimate friends, and there was not a sparkof rivalry or jealousy in their generous emulation. In fact, Paganini appears to have been utterly without that conceit in his ownextraordinary powers which is so common in musical artists. Heine givesan amusing illustration of this. He writes: "Once, after listening to aconcert by Paganini, as I was addressing him with the most impassionedeulogies on his violin-playing, he interrupted me with the words, 'Buthow were you pleased to-day with my compliments and reverences?'" Themusician thought more of his genuflexions than of his musical talent. 

IV. 

In the year 1817 Rossini, Meyerbeer, and Paganini were at Rome duringCarnival time, and the trio determined on a grand frolic. Rossini hadcomposed a very clever part-song, "Carnavale, Carnavale, " known inEnglish as "We are Poor Beggars, " and the three great musicians, havingdisguised themselves as beggars, sang it with great effect through thestreets. Rossini during this Carnival produced his "Cenerentola, " andPaganini gave a series of concerts which excited great enthusiasm. Shortly after this, Paganini's health gave way completely at Naples, andthe landlord of the hotel where he was stopping got the impression thathis sickness was infectious. In the most brutal manner he turned thesick musician into the street. Fortunately, at this moment a violoncelloplayer, Ciandelli, who knew Paga-nini well, was passing by, and came tothe rescue, and his anger was so great, when he saw what had happenedto the great violinist, that he belabored the barbarous landlordunmercifully with a stick, and conveyed the invalid to a comfortablelodging where he was carefully attended to. Some time subsequentlyPaganini had an opportunity of repaying this kindness, for he gaveCiandelli some valuable instruction, which enabled him in the course ofa few years to become transformed from a very indifferent performer intoan artist of considerable eminence. 

At the age of thirty-six Paganini again found himself at Milan, andthere organized a society of musical amateurs, called "Gli Orfei. " Heconducted several of their concerts. But either the love of a rovinglife or the necessity of wandering in order to fill his exchequer kepthim constantly on the move; and, though during these travels he is saidto have met with many extraordinary adventures, very little reliance canbe placed upon the accounts that have come down to us, the more sowhen we consider that Paga-nini's mode of life was, as we shall seepresently, become by this time extremely sober. It was not until hewas forty-four years old that he finally quitted Italy to make himselfbetter known in foreign countries. He had been encouraged to visitVienna by Prince Metternich, who had heard and admired his playing atRome in 1817, and had repeatedly made plans to visit Germany, but hishealth had been so wretched as to prevent his departure from his nativecountry. But a sojourn in the balmy climate of Sicily for a few monthshad done him so much good that in 1828 he put his long-deferredplans into execution. The first concert in March of that year made anunparalleled sensation. He gave a great number of concerts in Vienna, among them several for the poor. A fever seized all classes of society. The shop windows were crowded with goods _à la Paganini_; a good strokeat billiards was called _un coup à la Paganini_; dishes Avere namedafter him; his portrait was enameled on snuff-boxes, and the Viennesedandies carried his bust on the head of their walking-sticks. A cabmanwheedled out of the reluctant violinist permission to print on his cab, _Cabriolet de Paganini_. By this cunning device, Jehu so augmented hisprofits that he was able to rent a large house and establish a hotel, inwhich capacity Paganini found him when he returned again to Vienna. 

Among the pleasant stories told of him is one similar to an incidentpreviously related of Viotti. One day, as he was walking in Vienna, Paganini saw poor little Italian boy scraping some Neapolitan songsbefore the windows of a large house. A celebrated composer whoaccompanied the artist remarked to him, "There is one of yourcompatriots. " Upon which Paganini evinced a desire to speak to the lad, and went across the street to him for that purpose. After ascertainingthat he was a poor beggar-boy from the other side of the Alps, and thathe supported his sick mother, his only relative, by his playing, thegreat violinist appeared touched. He literally emptied his pockets intothe boy's hand, and, taking the violin and bow from him, began themost grotesque and extraordinary performance possible. A crowd sooncollected, the great virtuoso was at once recognized by the bystanders, and when he brought the performance to an end, amid the cheers andshouts of all assembled, he handed round the boy's hat, and made aconsiderable collection of coin, in which silver pieces were veryconspicuous. He then handed the sum to the young Italian, saying, "Takethat to your mother, " and, rejoining his companion, walked off with him, saying, "I hope I've done a good turn to that little animal. " AtBerlin, where he soon afterward astonished his crowded audiences by hismarvelous playing, the same fanatical enthusiasm ensued; and, withthe exception of Palermo, Naples (where he seems to have had manydetractors), and Prague, his visits to the various cities of Europe wereone continued triumph. People tried in vain to explain his method ofplaying, professors criticised him, and pamphlets were published whichendeavored to make him out a quack or a charlatan. It was all to nopurpose. Nothing could arrest his onward course; triumph succeededtriumph wherever he appeared; and, though no one could understand him, every one admired him, and he had only to touch his violin to enchantthousands. A curious scene occurred at Berlin, at a musical eveningparty to which Paganini was invited. A young and presumptuous professorof the violin performed there several pieces with very little effect; hewas not aware of the presence of the Genoese giant, whom he did not knoweven by sight. Others, however, quickly recognized him, and he was askedto play, which he at first declined, but finally consented to do afterurgent solicitation. Purposely he played a few variations in wretchedlybad style, which caused a suppressed laugh from those ignorant of hisidentity. The young professor came forward again and played anotherselection in a most pretentious and pointed way, as if to crush thedaring wretch who had ventured to compete with him. Paganini again tookup the instrument, and played a short piece with such touching pathosand astonishing execution, that the audience sat breathless till thelast dying cadence wakened them into thunders of applause, and heartsthrilled as the name "Paganini" crept from mouth to mouth. The youngprofessor had already vanished from the room, and was never again seenin the house where he had received so severe a lesson. 

Paganini repeated his triumphs again the following year, performingin Vienna and the principal cities of Germany, and everywhere arousingsimilar feelings of admiration. Orders and medals were bestowed on him, and his progress was almost one of royalty. His first concert in Pariswas given on March 9, 1831, at the opera-house. He was then forty-sevenyears old, and Castil-Blaze described him as being nearly six feetin height, with a long, pallid face, brilliant eyes, like those of aneagle, long curling black hair, which fell down over the collar of hiscoat, a thin and cadaverous figure--altogether a personality so gauntand delicate as to be more like a shadow than a man. The eyes sparkledwith a strange phosphorescent gleam, and the long bony fingers were soflexible as to be likened only to "a handkerchief tied to the end of astick. " Petis describes the impression he created at his first concertas amounting to a "positive and universal frenzy. " Being questioned asto why he always performed his own compositions, he replied "that, if heplayed other compositions than his own, he was obliged to arrange themto suit his own peculiar style, and it was less trouble to write a pieceof his own. " Indeed, whenever he attempted to interpret the works ofother composers, he failed to produce the effects which might have beenexpected of him. This was especially the case in the works of Beethoven. 

V. 

When Paganini appeared in England, of course there was a prodigiouscuriosity to see and hear the great player. All kinds of rumors werein the public mouth about him, and many of the lower classes reallybelieved that he had sold himself to the evil one. The capacious areaof the opera-house was densely packed, and the prices of admission weredoubled on the opening night. The enthusiasm awakened by the performancecan best be indicated by quoting from some of the contemporary accounts. The concert opened with Beethoven's Second Symphony, performed bythe Philharmonic Society, and it was followed by Lablache, who sangRossini's "Largo al factotum. " "A breathless silence then ensued, "writes Mr. Gardiner, an amateur of Leicester, who at the peril of hisribs had been struggling in the crowd for two hours to get admission, "and every eye watched the action of this extraordinary violinist as heglided from the side scenes to the front of the stage. An involuntarycheering burst from every part of the house, many persons rising fromtheir seats to view the specter during the thunder of this unprecedentedapplause, his gaunt and extraordinary appearance being more like thatof a devotee about to suffer martyrdom than one to delight you withhis art. With the tip of his bow he set off the orchestra in a grandmilitary movement with a force and vivacity as surprising as it wasnew. At the termination of this introduction, he commenced with a soft, streamy note of celestial quality, and with three or four whips of hisbow elicited points of sound that mounted to the third heaven, and asbright as stars. . . . Immediately an execution followed which was equallyindescribable. A scream of astonishment and delight burst from theaudience at the novelty of this effect. . . . Etc. " This _naive_ accountmay serve to show the impression created on the minds of those nottrained to guard their words with moderation. 

"Nothing can be more intense in feeling, " said a contemporary critic, "than his conception and delivery of an adagio passage. His tone is, perhaps, not quite so full and round as that of a De Bériot or Baillot, for example; it is delicate rather than strong, but this delicacy wasprobably never possessed equally by another player. " "There is no trickin his playing, " writes another critic; "it is all fair scientificexecution, opening to us a new order of sounds. . . . All his passagesseem free and unpremeditated, as if conceived on the instant. One has noimpression of their having cost him either forethought or labor. . . . The word difficulty has no place in his vocabulary. . . . Etc. " Paganini'slengthened tour through London and the provinces was everywhere attendedwith the same success, and brought him in a golden harvest, for hisreputation had now grown so portentous that he could exact the greatestterms from managers. 

Paganini avowed himself as not altogether pleased with England, but, under the surface of such complaints as the following, one detects thering of gratified vanity. He writes in a MS. Letter, dated from Londonin 1831, of the excessive and noisy admiration to which he was subjectedin the London streets, which left him no peace, and actually blocked hispassage to and from the theatre. "Although the public curiosity to seeme, " says he, "is long since satisfied; though I have played in publicat least thirty times, and my likeness has been reproduced in allpossible styles and forms, yet I can never leave my home without beingmobbed by people who are not content with following and jostling me, butactually get in front of me, and prevent my going either way, address mein English of which I don't know a word, and even feel me as if to findout if I am made of flesh and blood. And this is not only among thecommon people, but among the upper classes. " Paganini repeated his visitto England during the next season, playing his final farewell concert atthe Victoria Theatre, London, June 17, 1832. The two following yearsour artist lived in Paris, and was the great lion of musical andsocial circles. People professed to be as much charmed with his lack ofpretension, his _naive_ and simple manners, as with his musical genius. Yet no man was more exacting of his rights as an artist. One day a courtconcert was announced at the Tuilleries, at which Paganini was askedto play. He consented, and went to examine the room the day before. Heobjected to the numerous curtains, so hung as to deaden the sound, and requested the superintendent to see that they were changed. Thesupercilious official ignored the artist's wish, and the offendedPaganini determined not to play. When the hour of the concert arrived, there was no violinist. The royalties and their attendants were allseated; murmurs arose, but still no Paganini. At last an official wassent to the hotel of the artist, only to be informed that _the greatviolinist had not gone out, but that he went to bed very early_. It wasduring his residence in Paris in the winter of 1834 that he proposedto Berlioz, for whom he had the most cordial esteem and admiration, to write a concerto for his Stradiuarius violin, which resulted in thefamous symphony "Harold en Italie. " Four years after this he bestowedthe sum of twenty thousand francs on Berlioz, who was then in pressingneed, delicately disguising the donation as a testimonial of hisadmiration for the "Symphonie Fantastique. " Though the eagerness ofPaganini to make money urged him to labor for years while his health wasexceedingly frail, and though he was justly stigmatized as penuriousin many ways, he was capable of princely generosity on occasions whichappealed strongly to the ardent sympathies which lay at the bottom ofhis nature. 

Paganini made a great fortune by the exercise of his art, and in 1834purchased, among other property in his native country, a charmingcountry seat called Villa Gajona, near Parma. Here he spent two yearsin comparative quiet, though still continuing to give concerts. At thisperiod and for some time previous many music-sellers had striven to buythe copyright of his works. But Paganini put a price on it whichwas prescriptive, the probability being that he did not wish hiscompositions to pass out of his hands till he had given up his career onthe concert stage. He was willing that they should be arranged for thepiano, but not published as violin music. 

After his return to Italy Paganini gave several most successfulconcerts, among others, one for the poor at Placentia, on the 14th ofNovember, 1834, and another at the court of the Duchess of Parma, in theDecember following. But his health was already giving way most visibly. Phthisis of the larynx, which rendered him a mere shadow of his formerself, and sometimes almost deprived him of speech, had been gainingground since his return to his native climate. In 1836, however, he wasbetter, and some unscrupulous Parisian speculators induced him to lendhis name to a joint-stock undertaking, a sort of gambling-room andconcert-hall, which they called the Casino Paganini. This was dulyopened in a fashionable part of Paris in 1837; but, as the Governmentwould not allow the establishment to be used as a gambling-house, andthe concerts did not pay the expenses, it became a great failure, andthe illustrious artist actually suffered loss by it to the extent offorty thousand francs. 

One of his last, if not his very last, concert was given with theguitar-player, Signor Legnani, at Turin, on the 9th of June, 1837, for the benefit of the poor. He was then on his way to fulfill hisengagements at the fatal Parisian casino, which opened with muchsplendor in the November following. But his health had again brokendown, and the fatigue of the journey had told upon him so much that hewas unable to appear at the casino. When the enterprise was found tobe a failure, a pettifogging lawsuit was carried on against him, and, according to Fetis, who is very explicit on this subject, the Frenchjudges condemned him to pay the aforesaid forty thousand francs, and tobe deprived of his liberty until that amount was paid--all this withouthearing his defense!

The career of Paganini was at this critical period fast drawing to aclose. His medical advisers recommended him to return at once to theSouth, fearing that the winter would kill him in Paris. He died at Niceon May 27, 1840, aged fifty-six years. He left to his legitimized sonAchille, the offspring of his _liaison_ with the singer Antonia Bianchi, a fortune of eighty thousand pounds, and the title of baron, of which hehad received the patent in Germany. His beautiful Guarnerius violin, thevehicle of so many splendid artistic triumphs, he bequeathed to the townof Genoa, where he was born. Though Paganini was superstitious, and dieda son of Holy Church, he did not leave any money in religious bequests, nor did he even receive the last sacraments. The authorities of Romeraised many difficulties about the funeral, and it was only after anenormous amount of trouble and expense that Achille was able to have asolemn service to the memory of his father performed at Parma. It wasfive years after Paganini's death that this occurred, and permissionwas obtained to have the body removed to holy ground in the villagechurchyard near the Villa Gajona. During this long period the dishonoredremains of the illustrious musician were at the hospital of Nice, wherethe body had been embalmed, and afterward at a country place near Genoa, belonging to the family. The superstitious peasantry believed thatstrange noises were heard about the grave at night--the wailings ofthe unsatisfied spirit of Paganini over the unsanctified burial of itsearthly shell. It was to end these painful stories that the youngbaron made a final determined effort to placate the ecclesiasticalauthorities. 

VI. 

The singular personality of Paganini displayed itself in his private noless than in his artistic life, and a few out of the many anecdotes toldof him will be of interest, as throwing fresh light on the man. Paganiniwas accused of being selfish and miserly, of caring little even for hisart, except as a means of accumulating money. While there is much in hislife to justify such an indictment, it is no less true that he on manyoccasions displayed great generosity. He was always willing to giveconcerts for the benefit of his fellow-artists and for other charitablepurposes, and on more than one occasion bestowed large sums of money forthe relief of distress. We may assume that he was niggardly by habitand generous by impulse. Utterly ignorant of everything except the artof music, bred under the most unfortunate and demoralizing conditions, the fact that his character was, on the whole, so _naive_ and upright, speaks eloquently for the native qualities of his disposition. Hiseccentricities, perhaps, justified the unreasoning vulgar in believingthat he was slightly crazed. His appearance and manner on the platformwere fantastic in the extreme, and rarely failed to provoke ridicule, till his magic bow turned all other emotions into one of breathlessadmiration. He talked to himself continually when alone, a habitwhich was partly responsible for the popular belief that he was alwaysattended by a familiar demon. When a stranger was introduced to him, hiscorpse-like face became galvanized into a ghastly smile, which produceda singular impression, half fascinating, half repulsive. He was taciturnin society, except among his intimates, when his buoyant spirits bubbledout in the most amusing jokes and anecdotes expressed in a polyglottongue, for he never knew any language well except his own. Naturallyirritable, his quick temper was inflamed by intestinal disease, whichracked him with a suffering that was aggravated by a nostrum, in the useof which he indulged freely. Indeed, it was said by his friends that hisdeath was accelerated by his devotion to medical quackery, from a beliefin which no arguments could wean him. 

To his fellow-artists he was always polite and attentive, though theyannoyed him by their persistent curiosity as to the means by which heproduced his unrivaled effects--effects which the established techniqueof violin-playing could not explain. An Englishman named George Harris, who was an _attache_ of the Hanoverian court, attended Paganini for ayear as his private secretary, and he asserts that Paganini was neverseen to practice a single note of music in private. His astonishingdexterity was kept up to its pitch by the numerous concerts which hegave, and by his exquisitely delicate organization. He was accustomed tosay that his whole early life had been one of prodigious and continualstudy, and that he could afford to repose in after years. Paganini'sknowledge of music was profound and exact, and the most difficult musicwas mere child's play to him. Pasini, a well-known painter, living atParma, did not believe the stories told of Paganini's ability to playthe most difficult music at sight. Being the possessor of a valuableStradiuarius violin, he challenged our artist to play, at first hand, amanuscript concerto which he placed before him. "This instrumentshall be yours, " he said, "if you can play, in a masterly manner, thatconcerto at first sight. " The Genoese took the violin in his hand, saying, "In that case, my friend, you may bid adieu to it at once, " andhe immediately threw Pasini into ecstatic admiration by his performanceof the piece. There is little doubt that this is the Stradiuariusinstrument left by Paganini to his son, and valued at about six hundredpounds sterling. 

Of Antonia Bianchi, the mother of his son Achille, Paganini tells usthat, after many years of a most devoted life, the lady's temper becameso violent that a separation was necessary. "Antonia was constantlytormented, " he says, "by the most fearful jealousy. One day she happenedto be behind my chair when I was writing some lines in the album of agreat pianiste, and, when she read the few amiable words I had composedin honor of the artist to whom the book belonged, she tore it from myhands, demolished it on the spot, and, so fearful was her rage, wouldhave assassinated me. "

He was very fond of his little son Achille. A French gentleman tellsus that he called once to take Paganini to dine with him. He found theartist's room in great disorder. A violin on the table with manuscriptmusic, another upon a chair, a snuff-box on the bed along with hischild's toys, music, money, letters, articles of dress--all _pêle-mêle_;nor were the tables and chairs in their proper places. Everything was inthe most conspicuous confusion. The child was out of temper; somethinghad vexed him; he had been told to wash his hands; and, while the littleone gave vent to the most violent bursts of temper, the father stoodas calm and quiet as the most accomplished of nurses. He merely turnedquietly to his visitor, and said, in melancholy accents: "The poor childis cross; I do not know what to do to amuse him; I have played with himever since morning, and I can not stand it any longer. "

"It was rather amusing, " says the same writer, "to see Paganini in hisslippers doing battle with his child, who came about up to his knees. The little one advanced boldly with his wooden sword, while the fatherretired, crying out, 'Enough, enough! I am already wounded. ' But it wasnot enough; the young Achilles was never satisfied until his father, completely vanquished, fell heavily on the bed. "

In the early part of the present century the facilities for travelwere far less convenient than at the present time, and it was always anarduous undertaking to one in Paganini's frail condition of health. Hewas, however, generally cheerful while jolting along in the post-chaise, and chatted incessantly as long as his voice held out. Harris tells usthat the artist was in the habit of getting out when the horseswere changed, to stretch his long limbs after the confinement of thecarriage. Often he extended his promenades when he became interested inthe town through which he was passing, and would not return tilllong after the fresh horses had been harnessed, thereby causing muchannoyance to the driver. On one occasion Jehu swore, if it occurredagain, he would drive on, and leave his passenger behind, to get alongas best he could. The secretary, Harris, was enjoying a nap, and thedriver was true to his resolution at the next stopping-place, leavingPaganini behind. This made much trouble, and a special coach had to besent for the enraged artist, who was found sputtering oaths in half adozen languages. Paganini refused to pay for the carriage, and it wasonly by force of law that he reluctantly settled the bill. 

His baggage was always of the plainest description; in fact, ludicrouslysimple. A shabby box contained his precious Guarnerius fiddle, andserved also as a portmanteau wherein to pack his jewelry, his linen, andsundry trifles. In addition to this he carried a small traveling-bag anda hat-box. Mr. Harris tolls us that Paganini was in eating and drinkingexceedingly frugal. Table indulgence was forbidden him by the conditionof his health, as any deviation from the strictest diet resulted ingreat suffering. He was a thorough Italian in all his habits and ideas. Among other traits was a great disdain for the lower classes, thoughhe was by no means subservient to people of rank and wealth. It washis habit, when an inferior addressed him, to inquire of his companion, "What does this animal want with me?" If he was pleased with hiscoachman, he would say, "That animal drives well. " This seemed not somuch the vulgar arrogance of a small nature, elevated above the class inlife from which it sprang, as that pride of great gifts which made thefreemasonry of genius the measure by which he judged all others, nobleand simple. Like all men of highly nervous constitution, he was keenlysusceptible to both enjoyment and suffering. He was so sensitiveto atmospheric changes that his irritability was excessive during athunderstorm. He would then remain silent for hours together, while hiseyes rolled and his limbs twitched convulsively. Such fragile, nervous, highly sensitive organizations are not unfrequently characteristic ofmen of great genius, and in the great Italian violinist it was developedin an abnormal degree. 

The circumstances accompanying the last scenes of Paganini's life arevery interesting. He had been intimate with most of the great peopleof Europe, among them Lord Byron, Sir Clifford Constable, Lord Holland, Rossini, Ugo Fascolo, Monti, Prince Jerome, the Princess Eliza, and mostof the great painters, poets, and musicians of his age. For Lord Byronhe had a most ardent and exaggerated admiration. Paganini had stopped atNice on his way from Paris, detained by extreme debility, for hislast hours were drawing near. Under the blue sky and balmy air ofthis Mediterranean paradise the great musician somewhat recovered hisstrength at first. One night he sat by his bedroom window, surrounded bya circle of intimate friends, watching the glories of the Italian sunsetthat emblazoned earth, air, and sky, with the richest dyes of nature'spalette. A soft breeze swept into the room, heavy with the perfumes offlowers, and the twittering of the birds in the green foliage mingledwith the hum of talk from the throngs of gay promenaders sauntering onthe beach. For a while Paganini sat silently absorbed in watching thejoyous scene, when suddenly his eyes turned on the picture of Lord Byronthat hung on the wall. A flash of enthusiasm lightened his face, as ifa great thought were struggling to the surface, and he seized his violinto improvise. The listeners declared that this "swan song" was themost remarkable production of his life. He illustrated the stormy andromantic career of the English poet in music. The accents of doubt, irony, and despair mingled with the cry of liberty and the tumult oftriumph. Paganini had scarcely finished this wonderful musical picturewhen the bow fell from the icy fingers that refused any longer toperform their function, and the player sank into a dead swoon. 

The shock had been too great, and Paganini never quitted his bedafterward. The day before his death he seemed a little better, anddirected his servant to buy a pigeon for him, as he had a slight returnof appetite. On the last evening of his life he seemed very tranquil, and ordered the curtains to be drawn that he might look out of thewindow at the beautiful night. The full moon was sailing through theskies, flooding everything with splendor. Paganini gazed eagerly, gave along sigh of pleasure, and fell back on his pillow dead. 

VII. 

Paganini was the first to develop the full resources of the violin asa solo instrument. He departed entirely from the traditions ofviolin-playing as practiced by earlier masters, as he believed thatgreat fame could never be acquired in pursuing their methods. A work ofLocatelli, one of the cleverest pupils of Corelli, and a great masterof technique, first seems to have inspired him with a conception ofthe more brilliant possibilities of the violin. What further favoredPaganini's new departure was that he lived in an age when the artisticmind, as well as thought in other directions, felt the desire ofinnovation. The French Revolution stirred Europe to its deepest roots, intellectually as well as politically. At a very early date in hiscareer Paganini seems to have begun experimenting with the new effectsfor which he became famous, though these did not reach their fullfruitage until just before he left Italy on his first general tour. Fetis says: "In adopting the ideas of his predecessors, in resuscitatingforgotten effects, in superadding what his genius and perseverance gavebirth to, he arrived at that distinctive character of performance whichcontributed to his ultimate greatness. The diversity of sounds, thedifferent methods of tuning his instrument, the frequent employmentof harmonics, single and double, the simultaneous pizzicato and bowpassages, the various staccato effects, the use of double and eventriple notes, a prodigious facility in executing wide intervals withunerring precision, together with an extraordinary knowledge of allstyles of bowing--such were the principal features of Paganini's talent, rendered all the more perfect by his great execution, exquisitelynervous sensibility, and his deep musical feeling. " In a word, Paganinipossessed the most remarkable creative power in the technical treatmentof an instrument ever given to a player. Franz Liszt as a pianistapproaches him more nearly in this respect than any other virtuoso, but the field open to the violinist was far greater and wider thanthat offered to the great Hungarian pianist. It was not, however, mereperfection of technical power that threw Europe into such paroxysms ofadmiration; it was the irresistible power of a genius which has neverbeen matched, and which almost justified the vulgar conclusion that nonebut one possessed with a demon could do such things. Paganini possessedthe oft-quoted attribute of genius, "the power of taking infinitepains, " but behind this there lay superlative gifts of mind, physique, and temperament. He completely dazzled the greatest musical artists aswell as the masses. "His constant and daring flights, " writesMoscheles, "his newly discovered flageolet tones, his gift of fusingand beautifying objects of the most diverse kinds--all these phasesof genius so completely bewilder my musical perceptions that for daysafterward my head is on fire and my brain reels. " His tone lackedroundness and volume. His use of very thin strings, made necessary byhis double harmonics and other specialties, necessarily prevented abroad, rich tone. But he more than compensated for this defect by theintense expression, "soft and melting as that of an Italian singer, " touse the language of Moscheles again, which characterized the quality ofsound he drew from his instrument. Spohr, a very great player, but, with all his polish, precision, and classical beauty of style, somewhatphlegmatic and conventional withal, critcised Paganini as lackingin good taste. He could never get in sympathy with the bent ofindividuality, the Southern passion and fire, and the exceptional giftsof temperament which made Paganini's idiosyncrasies of style as a playerconsummate beauties, where imitations of these effects on the part ofothers would be gross exaggeration. Spohr developed the school of Viottiand Rode, and in his attachment to that school could see no artisticbeauty in any deviation. Paganini's peculiar method of treating theviolin has never been regarded as a safe school for any other violinistto follow. Without Paganini's genius to give it vitality, his techniquewould justly be charged with exaggeration and charlatanism. Some of themodern French players, who have been strongly influenced by the greatItalian, have failed to satisfy serious musical taste from this cause. On the German violinists he has had but little influence, owing to thepowerful example of Spohr and the musical spirit of the great composers, which have tended to keep players within the strictly legitimate linesof art. Some of the principal compositions of Paganini are marked bygreat originality and beauty, and are violin classics. Schumann andLiszt have transcribed several of them for the piano, and Brahms for theorchestra. But the great glory of Paganini was as a virtuoso, not as acomposer, and it has been generally agreed to place him on the highestpedestal which has yet been reached in the executive art of the violin. 

DE BÉRIOT

De Bériot's High Place in the Art of the Violin and Violin Music. --TheScion of an Impoverished Noble Family. --Early Education and MusicalTraining. --He seeks the Advice of Viotti in Paris. --Becomes a Pupil ofKobrechts and Baillot successively. --De Bériot finishes and perfects hisStyle on his Own Model. --Great Success in England. --Artistic Travelsin Europe. --Becomes Soloist to the King of the Netherlands. --He meetsMalibran, the Great Cantatrice, in Paris. --Peculiar Circumstances whichdrew the Couple toward Each Other. --They form a Connection which onlyends with Malibran's Life. --Sketch of Malibran and her Family. --TheVarious Artistic Journeys of Malibran and De Bériot. --Their Marriageand Mme. De Bériot's Death. --De Bériot becomes Professor in the BrusselsConservatoire. --His Later Life in Brussels. --His Son Charles Malibran deBériot. --The Character of De Bériot as Composer and Player. 

I. 

Among the great players contemporary with Paganini, the name of CharlesAuguste de Bériot shines in the musical horizon with the luster of astar of the first magnitude. His influence on music has been one ofunmistakable import, for he has perpetuated his great talents throughthe number of gifted pupils who graduated from his teachings andgathered an inspiration from an artist-master, in whom were unitedsplendid gifts as a player, an earnest musical spirit, depth andprecision of science, the chivalry of high birth and breeding, anda width of intellectual culture which would have dignified the_litterateur_ or scholar. De Bériot was for many years the chief of theviolin department at the Brussels Conservatoire, where, even before therevolution of 1830, there was one of the finest schools of instructionfor stringed instruments to be found in Europe. When in the fullripeness of his fame as a virtuoso and composer, De Bériot was called onto take charge of the violin section of this great institution, and hisinfluence has thus been transmitted in the world of art in a degree byno means limited to his direct greatness as an executant. 

De Bériot was born at Louvain, in 1802, of a noble family, whichhad been impoverished through the crash and turmoil of the FrenchRevolution. Left an orphan at the age of nine years, without inheritanceexcept that of a high spirit and family pride, he would have fared badlyin these early years, had it not been for the kindness of M. Tiby, aprofessor of music, who perceived the child's latent talent, and heacquired skill in playing so rapidly that he was able to play one ofViotti's concertos at the age of nine. His hearers, many of whom wereconnoisseurs, were delighted, and prophesied for him the great careerwhich made the name of De Bériot famous. Naturally of a contemplativeand thoughtful mind, he lost no time in studying not only the art ofviolin-playing but also acquiring proficiency in general branches ofknowledge. His theories of an art ideal even at that early age were farmore lofty and earnest than that which generally guides the aspirationsof musicians. De Bériot, in after years, attributed many of the elevatedideas which from this time guided his life to the influence of thewell-known scholar and philosopher Jacotot, who, though a poor musicianhimself, had very clear ideas as to the aesthetic and moral foundationson which art success must be built. The text-book, Jacotot's "Method, "fell early into the young musician's hand, and imbued him with theprinciples of self-reliance, earnestness, and patience which helped tomodel his life, and contributed to the remarkable proficiency in hisart on which his fame rests. Two golden principles were impressed on DeBériot's mind from these teachings: "All obstacles yield to unweariedpursuit, " and "We are not ordinarily willing to do all that we arereally able to accomplish. " In after years De Bériot met Jacotot, andhad the pleasure of acknowledging the deep obligation under which hefelt himself bound. 

In 1821 young Charles de Bériot had attained the age of nineteen, andit was determined that he should leave his native town and go to Paris, where he could receive the teachings of the great masters of the violin. At this time he was a handsome youth with a strongly knit figure, somewhat above the middle height, with fine, dark eyes and hair, aflorid complexion, and very gentlemanly appearance. Good blood andbreeding displayed themselves in every movement, and ardent hope shonein his face. He resided for several months in Brussels, which wasafterward to be his home, and associated with the scenes of his greatestusefulness, and then pursued his eager way to Paris with a letter ofintroduction to Viotti, then director of music at the Grand Opéra. DeBériot's ambition was to play before the veteran violinist ofEurope, and to feed his own hopes on the great master's praise andencouragement. 

"You have a fine style, " said Viotti; "give yourself up to the businessof perfecting it; hear all men of talent; profit by everything, butimitate nothing. " There was at this time in Brussels a violinist namedRobrechts, a former pupil of Viotti, and one of the last artists whoderived instruction directly from the celebrated Italian. AndreasRobrechts was born at Brussels on the 18th of December, 1797, and maderapid progress as a musician under Planken, a professor, who, like thelate M. Wéry, who succeeded him, formed many excellent pupils. He thenentered himself at the Conservatoire of Paris in 1814, where he receivedsome private lessons from Baillot, while the institution itself wasclosed during the occupation by the allied armies. 

Viotti, hearing the young Robrechts play, was so struck with hismagnificent tone and broad style that he undertook to give him finishinglessons, with the approbation of Baillot. This was soon arranged, andfor many years the two violinists were inseparable. He even accompaniedViotti in his journey to London, where they were heard more than once induets. The illustrious Italian had recognized in Robrechts the pupilwho most closely adhered to his style of playing, and one of the few whowere likely to diffuse it in after years. 

In 1820 Robrechts returned to Brussels, where he was elected firstviolin solo to the king, Wil-helm I. It was shortly after this that DeBériot took lessons from him, and he it was who gave him the letterof introduction to Viotti. The same excellent professor also gaveinstructions to the young Artot. He died in 1860, the last directrepresentative of the great Viotti school. 

It will now be seen where De Bériot acquired the first principles ofthat large, bold, and exquisitely charming style that in after lifecharacterized both his performances and his compositions. 

II. 

Arriving at Paris, and believing probably that the classical style ofRobrechts, from whom he had had instruction in Brussels, did not leadhim swiftly forward enough in the path he would travel, he soughtViotti, as we have related above, and by his advice entered himself inthe violin class of the Conservatoire, which was directed by Baillot, aneminent player of the Viotti school, though never a direct pupil of thelatter master. De Bériot, however, did not remain long in the class, butapplied himself most assiduously to the study of the violin in his ownway. This is what Paganini had done, and through this course had beenable to form a style so peculiarly his own. It is not probable that DeBériot at this time knew much about Paganini; certainly he hadnever heard him. Paganini was at first looked on as a mere comet ofextraordinary brilliancy, without much soundness or true genius, andmany who afterward became his most ardent admirers began with sneeringat his pretensions. De Bériot was in later years undoubtedly powerfullyinfluenced by Paganini, but at the time of which we speak the youngviolinist appears to have been determined to evolve a style andcharacter in art out of his own resources purely. He was carrying outViot-ti's advice. 

At this time our young artist was the possessor of a very fineinstrument by Giovanni Magini, a celebrated maker of the Brescianschool, and a pupil of Gaspar de Salo. Many of the violins of this makeare of an excellence hardly inferior to the Strads of the best period, and De Bériot seems to have preferred this violin during the whole ofhis career, though he afterward owned instruments of the most celebratedmakers. 

Very soon De Bériot made his public appearance in concerts, and wasbrilliantly successful from the outset. The range of his ambition may beseen from the fact that he had enough confidence in his own genius fromthe very first to play his own music, and it was conceded to possessgreat freshness and originality. These early "Airs Varié" consisted ofan introduction, a theme, followed by three or four variations, and abrilliant finale. 

The young artist preceded Paganini in London several years, as hemade his first appearance before an English audience in 1826. It wasfortunate, perhaps, for De Bériot that such was the case, as it is morethan probable that, after the dazzling and electric displays ofthe Geneose player, the more sedate and simple style which thencharacterized De Bériot would have failed to please. As it was, hewas most cordially admired, and was generally recognized by Englishconnoisseurs, as well as by the general public, as one of the mostaccomplished players who had ever visited England. The pecuniary resultsof these concerts were large, and sufficient to relieve De Bériot, whohad formerly been rather straitened in his means, from the friction andembarrassment which poverty so often imposes on struggling talent. There was a peculiar charm in De Bériot's style which was permanentlycharacteristic of him, though his technical method did not always remainthe same. In addition to very facile execution and a rich, mellow tone, he possessed the most refined taste. His playing impressed people lessas that of a great professional violinist than that of the marvelouslyaccomplished amateur, the gentleman of leisure and culture, whoperformed with the easy, sparkling grace of one who took no thought ofwhether he played well or not, but did great feats on his instrumentbecause he could not help it. Such was also the characteristic of Marioas a singer, and there seems to have been many features of resemblancebetween these two fine artists, though moving in different fields ofart. 

After traveling through Europe for several years, giving concerts withgreat success, he was presented to King Wilhelm of the then unitedkingdom of the Netherlands. This monarch, though quite ignorant ofmusic, was an enthusiastic patron of art, and, believing that De Bériotwas destined to be a great ornament of his native country (for he wasborn in Belgium, though his parents were from France), bestowed on theartist a pension of two thousand florins a year, and the title of firstviolin solo to his majesty. But this honor was soon rudely snatchedfrom De Bériot's grasp. The revolution of 1830, which began withthe excitement inflamed in Brussels by the performance of Auber'srevolutionary opera, "La Muette di Portici, " better known as"Masaniello, " dissolved the kingdom, and Belgium parted permanentlyfrom Holland. It was, perhaps, owing to this apparent misfortune thatDe Bériot made an acquaintance which culminated in the most interestingepisode of his life. He lost his official position at Brussels, but hemet Mme. Malibran. 

III. 

De Bériot returned to Paris, where Sontag and Malibran were engaged inardent artistic rivalry, about equally dividing the suffrages of theFrench public. Mlle. Sontag was a beautiful, fair-haired, blue-eyedwoman, in the very flush of her youth, with an expression of exquisitesweetness and mildness. De Bériot became madly enamored of her at once, and pressed his suit with vehemence, but without success. HenriettaSontag was already the betrothed of Count Rossi, whom she soon afterwardmarried, though the engagement was then a secret. The lady's firmrefusal of the young Belgian artist's overtures filled him with a deepmelancholy, which he showed so unmistakably that he became an object ofsolicitude to all his friends. Among those was Mme. Malibran, whose warmsympathies went out to an artist whose talents she admired. Malibran, living apart from her husband, was obliged to be careful in her conduct, to avoid giving food for the scandal of a censorious world, but thisdid not prevent her from exhibiting the utmost pity and kindness in herdemeanor toward De Bériot. The violinist was soothed by this gentle anddelightful companion, and it was not long before a fresh affection, evenstronger than the other, sprang up in his susceptible nature for thewoman whose ardent Spanish frankness found it difficult to conceal thefact that she cherished sentiments different from mere friendship. 

The splendid career of Mme. Malibran shines almost without a rival inthe records of the lyric stage, and her influence on De Bériot, firsther lover and afterward her husband, was most marked. Maria Garcia, afterward Mme. Malibran, was one of a family of very eminent musicians. She was trained by her father, Manuel Garcia, who, in addition to beinga tenor singer of world-wide reputation, was a composer of some repute, and the greatest teacher of his time. Her sister, Pauline Garcia, inafter years became one of the greatest dramatic singers who ever lived, and her brother Manuel also attained considerable eminence as singer, song-composer, and teacher. The whole family were richly dowered withmusical gifts, and Maria was probably one of the most versatile andaccomplished musical artists of any age. At the age of thirteen she wasa professed musician, and at fifteen, when she came with her parents toLondon, she obtained a complete triumph by accidentally performing inRossini's "Il Barbiere, " to supply the place of a prima donna who wasunable to appear. 

We can not tarry here to enter into the details of her interesting life. Her father having taken her to America, where she fulfilled a numberof engagements with an increasing success, she finally espoused therea rich merchant named Malibran, much older than herself. It was a mostill-advised marriage, and, to make matters worse, the merchant failedvery soon afterward. Some go so far as to say that he foresaw thiscatastrophe before he contracted his marriage, in the hope of regaininghis fortune by the proceeds of the singer's career. However that may be, a separation took place, and Mme. Malibran returned to Paris in 1827. Her singing in Italian opera was everywhere a source of the mostenthusiastic ovation, and, as she rose like a star of the firstmagnitude in the world of song, so the young De Bériot was fast earninghis laurels as one of the greatest violinists of the day. In 1830 anindissoluble friendship united these two kindred spirits, and in 1832 DeBériot, Lablache, the great basso, and Mme. Malibran set out for a tourin Italy, where the latter had operatic engagements at Milan, Rome, and Naples, and where they all three appeared in concerts with the most_éclatant_ success--as may well be imagined. 

At Bologna, in 1834, it is difficult to say whether the cantatrice, or the violinist, or the inestimable basso, produced the greatestsensation; but her bust in marble was there and then placed under theperistyle of the Opera-house. 

Henceforward De Bériot never quitted her, and their affection seems tohave increased as time wore on. In the year following she appeared inLondon, where she gave forty representations at Drury Lane, performingin "La Sonnambula, " "The Maid of Artois, " etc. , for which she receivedthe sum of three thousand two hundred pounds. De Bériot would not havemade this amount probably with his violin in a year. 

After a second journey to Italy, in which Mme. Malibran renewed theenthusiasm which she had first created in the public mind, and a seriesof brilliant concerts which also added to De Bériot's prestige, theyreturned to Paris to wait for the divorce of Mme. Malibran from herhusband, which had been dragging its way through the courts. The muchlonged for release came in 1836, and the union of hearts andlives, whose sincerity and devotion had more than half condoned itsirregularity, was sanctified by the Church. The happiness of theartistic pair was not destined to be long. Only a month afterward Mme. De Bériot, who was then singing in London, had a dangerous fall fromher horse. Always passionately fond of activity and exercise, she was anexcellent horsewoman, and was somewhat reckless in pursuing her favoritepursuit. The great singer was thrown by an unruly and badly trainedanimal, and received serious internal injuries. Her indomitable spiritwould not, however, permit her to rest. She returned to the Continentafter the close of the London season, to give concerts, in spite of herweak health, and gave herself but little chance of recovery, beforeshe returned again to England in September to sing at the Manchesterfestival, her last triumph, and the brilliant close of a short and veryremarkable life. She was seized with sudden and severe illness, and diedafter nine days of suffering. During this period of trial to De Bériot, he never left the bedside of his dying wife, but devoted himselfto ministering to her comfort, except once when she insisted on hisfulfilling an important concert engagement. Racked with pain as she was, her greatest anxiety was as to his artistic success, fearing that hismental anguish would prevent his doing full justice to his talents. Itis said that her friends informed her of the vociferous applause whichgreeted his playing, and a happy smile brightened her dying face. Shedied September 22, 1836, at the age of twenty-eight, but not too soon tohave attained one of the most dazzling reputations in the history ofthe operatic stage. M. De Bériot was almost frantic with grief, for aprofound love had joined this sympathetic and well-matched pair, andtheir private happiness had not been less than their public fame. *

 * For a full sketch of Mme. Malibran de Beriot's artistic and personal career, the reader is referred to "Great Singers, Malibran to Tietjens, " Appletons' "Handy-Volume Series. "

The news of this calamity to the world of music spread swiftly throughthe country, and was known in Paris the next day, where M. Mali-bran, the divorced husband of the dead singer, was then living. As the fortunewhich Mme. De Bériot had made by her art was principally invested inFrance, and there were certain irregularities in the French law whichopened the way for claims of M. Malibran on her estate, De Bériot wasobliged to hasten to Paris before his wife's funeral to take out lettersof administration, and thus protect the future of the only child left byhis wife, young Charles de Bériot, who afterward became a distinguishedpianist, though never a professional musician. As the motives of thissudden disappearance were not known, De Bériot was charged with themost callous indifference to his wife. But it is now well known thathis action was guided by a most imperative necessity, the welfare ofhis infant son, all that was left him of the woman he had loved sopassionately. The remains of Mme. De Bériot were temporarily interredin the Collegiate Church in Manchester, but they were shortly afterwardremoved to Laeken, near Brussels. Over her tomb in the Laeken churchyardthe magnificent mausoleum surmounted with her statue was erected byDe Bériot. The celebrated sculptor Geefs modeled it, and the work isregarded as one of the _chefs-d'ouvre_ of the artist. 

IV. 

M. De Bériot did not recover from this shock for more than a year, butremained secluded at his country place near Brussels. It was not tillPauline Garcia (subsequently Mme. Viardot) made her _debut_ in concertin 1837, that De Bériot again appeared in public before one of the mostbrilliant audiences which had ever assembled in Brussels. In honor ofthis occasion the Philharmonic Society of that city caused two medalsto be struck for M. De Bériot and Mlle. Garcia, the molds of which wereinstantly destroyed. The violinist gave a series of concerts assistedby the young singer in Belgium, Germany, and France, and returned toBrussels again on the anniversary of their first concert, where theyappeared in the Théâtre de la Renaissance before a most crowded andenthusiastic audience. Among the features of the performance whichcalled out the warmest applause was Panseron's grand duo for voice andviolin, "Le Songe de Tartini, " Mlle. Garcia both singing and playingthe piano-forte accompaniment with remarkable skill. Two years afterwardMile. Garcia married M. Viardot, director of the Italian Opera at Paris, and De Bériot espoused Mlle. Huber, daughter of a Viennese magistrate, and ward of Prince Dietrischten Preskau, who had adopted her at an earlyage. 

De Bériot became identified with the Royal Conservatory of Music atBrussels in the year 1840, and thenceforward his life was devoted tocomposition and the direction of the violin school. He gave much timeand care to the education of his son Charles, who, in addition to awonderful resemblance to his mother, appears to have inherited much ofthe musical endowment of both parents. Had not an ample fortune renderedprofessional labor unnecessary, it is probable that the son of Malibranand De Bériot would have attained a musical eminence worthy of hislineage; but he is even now celebrated for his admirable performancesin private, and his musical evenings are said to be among the mostdelightful entertainments in Parisian society, gathering the mostcelebrated artists and _litterateurs_ of the great capital. 

De Bériot ceased giving public concerts after taking charge of theviolin classes of the Brussels Conservatoire, though he continued tocharm select audiences in private concerts. Many of his pupils becamedistinguished players, among whom may be named Monasterio, Standish, Lauterbach, and, chief of all, Henri Vieuxtemps, with whose precocioustalents he was so much pleased that he gave him lessons gratuitously. During his life at Brussels, and indeed during the whole of hiscareer, De Bériot enjoyed the friendship and esteem of many of themost distinguished men of the day, among his most intimate friends andadmirers having been Prince de Chimay, the Russian Prince Youssoupoff, and King Leopold I, of Belgium. The latter part of his life was notun-laborious in composition, but otherwise of affluent and elegant ease. During the last two years his eyesight failed him, and he graduallybecame totally blind. He died, April 13, 1870, at the age ofsixty-eight, while visiting his friend Prince Youssoupoff at St. Petersburg, of the brain malady which had long been making fatal inroadson his health. 

In originality as a composer for the violin, probably no one can surpassDe Bériot except Paganini, who exerted a remarkable modifying influenceon him after he had formed his own first style. His works are fullof grace and poetic feeling, and worked out with an intellectualcompleteness of form which gives him an honorable distinction even amongthose musicians marked by affluence of ideas. These compositions arelikely to be among the violin classics, though some of the violinistsof the Spohr school have criticised them for want of depth. He producedseven concertos, eleven _airs variés_, several books of studies, four trios for piano, violin, and 'cello, and, together with Osborne, Thalberg, and other pianists, a number of brilliant duos for piano andviolin. His book of instruction for the violin is among the best everwritten, though somewhat diffuse in detail. He may be considered thefounder of the Franco-Belgian school of violinists, as distinguishedfrom the classical French school founded by Viotti, and illustrated byRode and Baillot. His early playing was molded entirely in this style, but the dazzling example of Paganini, in course of time, had itseffect on him, as he soon adopted the captivating effects of harmonics, arpeggios, pizzicatos, etc. , which the Genoese had introduced, thoughhe stopped short of sacrificing his breadth and richness of tone. Hecombined the Paganini school with that of Viotti, and gave status toa peculiar _genre_ of players, in which may be numbered such greatvirtuosos as Vieuxtemps and Wieniawski, who successively occupied thesame professional place formerly illustrated by De Bériot, and thelatter of whom recently died. De Bériot's playing was noted for accuracyof intonation, remarkable deftness and facility in bowing, grace, elegance, and piquancy, though he never succeeded in creating theunbounded enthusiasm which everywhere greeted Paganini. 

OLE BULL. 

The Birth and Early Life of Ole Bull at Bergen, Norway. --His Family andConnections. --Surroundings of his Boyhood. --Early Display of his MusicalPassion. --Learns the Violin without Aid. --Takes Lessons from an OldMusical Professor, and soon surpasses his Master. --Anecdotes of hisBoyhood. --His Father's Opposition to Music as a Profession. --Competesfor Admittance to the University at Christiania. --Is consoledfor Failure by a Learned Professor. --"Better be a Fiddler thana Preacher. "--Becomes Conductor of the Philharmonic Society atBergen. --His first Musical Journey. --Sees Spohr. --Fights a Duel. --Visitto Paris. --He is reduced to Great Pecuniary Straits. --Strange Adventurewith Vidocq, the Great Detective. --First Appearance in Concert inParis. --Romantic Adventure leading to Acquaintance. --First Appearancein Italy. --Takes the Place of Do Bériot by Great Good Luck. --Ole Bullis most enthusiastically received. --Extended Concert Tour in Italy andFrance. --His _Début_ and Success in England. --One Hundred and EightyConcerts in Six Months. --Ole Bull's Gaspar di Salo Violin, and theCircumstances under which he acquired it. --His Answer to the King ofSweden. --First Visit and Great Success in America in 1843. --Attemptto establish a National Theatre. --The Norwegian Colony inPennsylvania. --Latter Years of Ole Bull. --His Personal Appearance. --ArtCharacteristics. 

I. 

The life of Olaus Bull, or Ole Bull, as he is generally known to theworld, was not only of much interest in its relation to music, butsingularly full of vicissitude and adventure. He was born at Bergen, Norway, February 5, 1810, of one of the leading families of that resortof shippers, timber-dealers, and fishermen. His father, John Storm Bull, was a pharmaceutist, and among his ancestors he numbered the Norwegianpoet Edward Storm, author of the "Sinclair Lay, " an epic on the fate ofColonel Sinclair, who with a thousand Hebridean and Scotch pirates, madea descent on the Norwegian coast, thus emulating the Vikingr forefathersof the Norwegians themselves. The peasants slew them to a man by rollingrocks down on them from the fearful pass of the Gulbrands Dahl, andthe event has been celebrated both by the poet's lay and the painter'sbrush. By the mother's side Ole Bull came of excellent Dutch stock, three of his uncles being captains in the army and navy, and another ajournalist of repute. A passion for music was inherent in the family, and the editor had occasional quartet parties at his house, where theworks of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven were given, much to the delight ofyoung Ole, who was often present at these festive occasions. 

The romantic and ardent imagination of the boy was fed by the weirdlegends familiar to every Norwegian nursery. The Scheherezade of thisoccasion was the boy's own grandmother, who told him with hushed breaththe fairy folk-lore of the mysterious Huldra and the Fossikal, or Spiritof the Waterfall, and Ole Bull, with his passion for music, was wontto fancy that the music of the rushing waters was the singing of theviolins played by fairy artists. From an early age this Greek passionfor personifying all the sights and sounds of nature manifested itselfnoticeably, but always in some way connected with music. He would fancyeven that he could hear the bluebells and violets singing, and perfumeand color translated themselves into analogies of sound. This poeticimagination grew with his years and widened with his experience, becoming the cardinal motive of Ole Bull's art life. For a long time theyoung boy had longed for a violin of his own, and finally his uncle whogave the musical parties presented him with a violin. Ole worked so hardin practicing on his new treasure that he was soon able to take part inthe little concerts. 

There happened to be at this time in Bergen a professor of music namedPaulsen, who also played skillfully on the violin. Originally fromDenmark, he had come to Bergen on business, but, finding the brandy sogood and cheap, and his musical talent so much appreciated, he postponedhis departure so long that he became a resident. Paulsen, it was said, would show his perseverance in playing as long as there remained a dropin the brandy bottle before him, when his musical ambition came to asudden close. When the old man, for he was more than sixty when youngOle Bull first knew him, had worn his clothes into a threadbare state, his friends would supply him with a fresh suit, and at intervals he gaveconcerts, which every one thought it a religious duty to attend. Itwas to this Dominie Sampson that Ole Bull was indebted for his earliestmusical training; but it seems that the lad made such swift progressthat his master soon had nothing further to teach him. Poor old Paulsenwas in despair, for in his bright pupil he saw a successful rival, and, fearing that his occupation was gone, he left Bergen for ever. 

In spite of the boy's most manifest genius for music, his father wasbent on making him a clergyman, going almost to the length of forbiddinghim to practice any longer on the dearly loved fiddle, which had nowbecome a part of himself; but Ole persevered, and played at nightsoftly, in constant fear that the sounds would be heard. But his motherand grandmother sympathized with him, and encouraged his labors of lovein spite of the paternal frowns. The author of a recent article in anAmerican magazine relates an interview with Ole Bull, in which the agedartist gave some interesting facts of that early period in his life. His father's assistant, who was musical, occasionally received musicalcatalogues from Copenhagen, and in one of these the boy first saw thename of Paganini, and reference to his famous "Caprices. " One eveninghis father brought home some Italian musicians, and Ole Bull heard fromthem all they knew of the great player, who was then turning the musicalworld topsy-turvy with a fever of excitement. "I went to my grandmother. 'Dear grandmother, ' I said, 'can't I get some of Paganini's music?''Don't tell any one, ' said that dear old woman, 'but I will try and buya piece of his for you if you are a good child. ' And she did try, andI was wild when I got the Paganini music. How difficult it was, but oh, how beautiful! That garden-house was my refuge. Maybe--I am not so sureof it--the cats did not go quite so wild as some four years before. Oneday--a memorable one--I went to a quartet party. The new leader of ourphilharmonic was there, a very fine violinist, and he played for us aconcerto of Spohr's. I knew it, and was delighted with his reading ofit. We had porter to drink in another room, and we all drank it, butbefore they had finished I went back to the music-room, and commencedtrying the Spohr. I was, I suppose, carried away with the music, forgotmyself, and they heard me. 

"'This is impudence, ' said the leader. 'And do you think, boy, that youcan play it?' 'Yes, ' I said, quite honestly. I don't to this day see whyI should have told a story about it--do you? 'Now you shall play it, 'said somebody. 'Hear him! hear him!' cried my uncle and the rest ofthem. I did try it, and played the allegro. All of them applauded savethe leader, who looked mad. 

"'You think you can play anything, then?' asked the leader. He took acaprice of Paganini's from a music stand. 'Now you try this, ' he said, in a rage. 'I will try it, ' I said. 'All right; go ahead. '

"Now it just happened that this caprice was my favorite, as the catswell knew. I could play it by memory, and I polished it off. When I didthat, they all shouted. The leader before had been so cross and savage, I thought he would just rave now. But he did not say a word. He lookedvery quiet and composed like. He took the other musicians aside, and Isaw that he was talking to them. Not long afterward this violinist leftBergen. I never thought I would see him again. It was in 1840, when Iwas traveling through Sweden on a concert tour, of a snowy day, that Imet a man in a sleigh. It was quite a picture: just near sunset, andthe northern lights were shooting in the sky; a man wrapped up in abear-skin a-tracking along the snow. As he drew up abreast of me andunmuffled himself, he called out to my driver to stop. It was theleader, and he said to me, 'Well, now that you are a celebratedviolinist, remember that, when I heard you play Paganini, I predictedthat your career would be a remarkable one. ' 'You were mistaken, ' Icried, jumping up; 'I did not read that Paganini at sight; I had playedit before. ' 'It makes no difference; good-by, ' and he urged on hishorse, and in a minute the leader was gone. "

II. 

To please his father, Ole Bull studied assiduously to fit himself forthe preliminary examination of the university, but he found time also topursue his beloved music. At the age of eighteen he was entered at theUniversity of Christiania as a candidate for admission, and went to thatcity somewhat in advance of the day of ordeal to finish his studies. He had hardly entered Christiania before he was seduced to play at aconcert, which beginning gave full play to the music-madness beyond allself-restraint. As a result Ole Bull was "plucked, " and at first hedid not dare write to his father of this downfall of the hopes of thepaternal Bull. 

We are told that he found consolation from one of the very professorswho had plucked him. "It's the best thing could have happened to you, "said the latter, by way of encouragement. 

"How so?" inquired Ole. 

"My dear fellow, " was the reply, "do you believe you are a fit man fora curacy in Finmarken or a mission among the Laps? Nature has made you amusician; stick to your violin, and you will never regret it. "

"But my father, think of his disappointed hopes, " said Ole Bull. 

"Your father will never regret it either, " answered the professor. 

As good fortune ordered for the forlorn youth, his musical friends didnot desert him, but secured for him the temporary position of directorof the Philharmonic Society of Christiania, the regular incumbent beingill. On the death of the latter shortly afterward, Ole Bull was tenderedthe place. As the new duties were very well paid, and relieved the youthfrom dependence on his father's purse, further opposition to his musicalcareer was withdrawn. 

In the summer of 1829 Ole Bull made a holiday trip into Germany, andheard Dr. Spohr, then director of the opera at Cassel. "From thisexcursion, " said one of Ole Bull's friends, "he returned completelydisappointed. He had fancied that a violin-player like Spohr must bea man who, by his personal appearance, by the poetic character of hisperformance, or by the flash of genius, would enchant and overwhelm hishearers. Instead of this, he found in Spohr a correct teacher, exactingfrom the young Norwegian the same cool precision which characterizedhis own performance, and quite unable to appreciate the wild, strangemelodies he brought from the land of the North. " Spohr was a man ofclock-work mechanism in all his methods and theories--young Ole Bull wasall poetry, romance, and enthusiasm. 

At Minden our young violinist met with an adventure not of thepleasantest sort. He had joined a party of students about to givea concert at that place, and was persuaded to take the place of theviolinist of the party, who had been rather free in his libations, andbecame "a victim of the rosy god. " Ole Bull was very warmly applauded atthe concert, and so much nettled was the student whose failure had madethe vacancy for Ole Bull's talent, that the latter received a challengeto fight a duel, which was promptly accepted. Ole Bull proved that hecould handle a sword as well as a fiddle-bow, for in a few passes hewounded and disabled his antagonist. He was advised, however, to leavethat locality as soon as possible, and so he returned straight toChristiania, "feeling as if the very soil of Europe repelled him" (touse an expression from one of his letters). 

Ole Bull remained in Norway for two years, but he felt that he mustbestir himself, and go to the great centers of musical culture ifhe would find a proper development and field for the genius which hebelieved he possessed. His friends at Christiania idolized him, and wereloath to let him go, but nothing could stay him, so with pilgrim's staffand violin-case he started on his journey. Scarcely twenty-one yearsof age, nearly penniless, with no letters of introduction to people whocould help him, but with boundless hope and resolution, he firstset foot in Paris in 1831. The town was agog over Paganini and Mme. Malibran, and of course the first impulse of the young artist was tohear these great people. One night he returned from hearing Malibran, and went to bed so late that he slept till nearly noon the next day. Tohis infinite consternation, he discovered that his landlord had decampedduring the early morning, taking away the household furniture of anyvalue, and even abstracting the modest trunk which contained Ole Bull'sclothes and his violin. After such an overwhelming calamity as this, theSeine seemed the only resource, and the young Norwegian, it is said, had nearly concluded to find relief from his troubles in its turbidand sin-weighted waters. But it happened that the young man had still alittle money left, enough to support him for a week, and he concluded todelay the fatal plunge till the last sou was gone. It was while he wasslowly enjoying the last dinner which he was able to pay for, that hemade the acquaintance of a remarkable character, to whom he confided hismisery and his determination to find a tomb in the Seine. 

III. 

Said the stranger, after pondering a few moments over the simple but sadstory of the young violinist, in whom he had taken a sudden interest:

"Well, I will do something for you, if you have courage and fivefrancs. "

"I have both. "

"Then go to Frascate's at ten; pass through the first room, enter thesecond, where they play 'rouge-et-noir, ' and when a new _taille_ beginsput your five francs on _rouge_, and leave it there. "

This promise of an adventure revived Ole Bull's drooping spirits, and hewas faithful in carrying out his unknown friend's instructions. At theprecise hour the tall stalwart figure of the young Norwegian bent overthe table at Frascate's, while the game of "rouge-et-noir" was beingplayed. He threw his five francs on red; the card was drawn--red wins, and the five francs were ten. Again Ole Bull bet his ten francs on_rouge_, and again he won; and so he continued, leaving his money on thesame color till a considerable amount of money lay before him. By thistime the spirit of gaming was thoroughly aroused. Should he leave themoney and trust to red turning up again, or withdraw the pile of goldand notes, satisfied with the kindness of Fortune, without furthertempting the fickle goddess? He said to a friend afterward, in relatinghis feelings on this occasion:

"I was in a fear--I acted as if possessed by a spirit not my own; no onecan understand my feelings who has not been so tried--left alone in theworld, as if on the extreme verge of an abyss yawning beneath, and atthe same time feeling something within that might merit a saving hand atthe last moment. "

Ole Bull stretched forth to grasp the money, when a white hand coveredit before his. He seized the wrist with a fierce grasp, while theowner of it uttered a loud shriek, and loud threats came from the otherplayers, who took sides in the matter, when a dark figure suddenlyappeared on the scene, and spoke in a voice whose tones carried withthem a magic authority which stilled all tumult at once. "Madame, leave this gold alone!"--and to Ole Bull: "Sir, take your money, ifyou please. " The winner of an amount which had become very considerablelingered a few moments to see the further results of the play, and, muchto his disgust, discovered that he would have possessed quite a littlefortune had he left his pile undisturbed for one more turn of the cards. He was consoled, however, on arriving at his miserable lodgings, for hecould scarcely believe that this stroke of good luck was true, and yetthere was something repulsive in it to the fresh, unsophisticated natureof the man. He said in a letter to one of his friends, "What a hideousjoy I felt--what a horrible pleasure it was to have saved one's own soulby the spoil of others!" The mysterious stranger who had thus befriendedOle Bull was the great detective Vidocq, whose adventures and exploitshad given him a world-wide reputation. Ole Bull never saw him again. 

In exploring Paris for the purchase of a new violin, he accidentallymade the acquaintance of an individual named Labout, who fancied that hehad found the secret of the old Cremona varnish, and that, by using iton modern-made violins, the instruments would acquire all the toneand quality of the best old fiddles of the days of the Stradiuarii andAmati. The inventor persuaded Ole Bull to appear at a private concertwhere he proposed to test his invention, and where the Duke and Duchessede Montebello were to be present. The Norwegian's playing produceda genuine sensation, and the duke took the young artist under hispatronage. The result was that Ole Bull was soon able to give a concerton his own account, which brought him a profit of about twelve hundredfrancs, and made him talked about among the musical _cognoscenti_ ofParis. Of course every one at the time was Paganini mad, but Ole Bullsecured more than a respectful hearing, and opened the way towardgetting a solid footing for himself. 

Among the incidents which occurred to him in Paris about this time wasone which had a curiously interesting bearing on his life. Obliged tomove from his lodgings on account of the death of the landlord and hiswife of cholera, a disease then raging in Paris, Ole Bull was told ofa noble but impoverished family who had a room to let on account of therecent death of the only son. The Norwegian violinist presented himselfat the somewhat dilapidated mansion of the Comtesse de Faye, and wasshown into the presence of three ladies dressed in deepest mourning. The eldest of them, on hearing his errand, haughtily declined theproposition, when the more beautiful of the two girls said, "Look athim, mother!" with such eagerness as to startle the ancient dame. 

Ole Bull was surprised at this. The old lady put on her spectacles, and, as she riveted her eyes upon him, her countenance changed suddenly. Shehad found in him such a resemblance to the son she had lost that sheat once consented to his residing in her house. Some time afterward OleBull became her son indeed, having married the fascinating girl who hadexclaimed, "Look at him, mother!"

With the little money he had now earned he determined to go to Italy, provided with some letters of introduction; and he gave his firstItalian concert at Milan in 1834. Applause was not wanting, but hisperformance was rather severely criticised in the papers. The followingparagraph, reproduced from an Italian musical periodical, publishedshortly after this concert, probably represents very truly the state ofhis talent at that period:

"M. Ole Bull plays the music of Spohr, May-seder, Pugnani, and others, without knowing the true character of the music he plays, and partlyspoils it by adding a color of his own. It is manifest that thiscolor of his own proceeds from an original, poetical, and musicalindividuality; but of this originality he is himself unconscious. Hehas not formed himself; in fact, he has no style; he is an uneducatedmusician. _Whether he is a diamond or not is uncertain; but certain itis that the diamond is not polished_. "

In a short time Ole Bull discovered that it was necessary to cultivate, more than he had done, his cantabile--this was his weakest point, and amost important one. In Italy he found masters who enabled him to developthis great quality of the violin, and from that moment his career as anartist was established. The next concert of any consequence in which heplayed was at Bologna under peculiar circumstances; and his reputationas a great violinist appears to date from that concert. De Bériot andMalibran were then idolized at Bologna, and just as Ole Bull arrived inthat ancient town, De Bériot was about to fulfill an engagement to playat a concert given by the celebrated Philharmonic Society there. Theengagement had been made by the Marquis di Zampieri, between whom andthe Belgian artist there was some feeling of mutual aversion, growingout of a misunderstanding and a remark of the marquis which had woundedthe susceptibilities of the other. The consequence was that on the dayof the concert De Bériot sent a note, saying that he had a sore fingerand could not play. 

Marquis Zampieri was in a quandary, for the time was short. In hisembarrassment he took council with Mme. Colbran Rossini, who was then atBologna with her husband, the illustrious composer. It happened that OleBull's lodging was in the same palazzo, and Mme. Rossini had often heardthe tones of the young artist's violin in his daily practicing; hercuriosity had been greatly aroused about this unknown player, and nowwas the chance to gratify it. She told the noble _entrepreneur_ that shehad discovered a violinist quite worthy of taking De Bériot's place. 

"Who is it?" inquired the marquis. 

"I don't know, " answered the wife of Rossini. 

"You are joking, then?"

"Not at all, but I am sure there is a genius in town, and he lodgesclose by here, " pointing to Ole Bull's apartment. "Take your net, "she added, "and catch your bird before he has flown away. " The marquisknocked at Ole Bull's door, and the delighted young artist soonconcluded an engagement which insured him an appearance under the bestauspices, for Mme. Malibran would sing at the same concert. 

In a few hours Ole Bull was performing before a distinguished audiencein the concert-hall of the Philharmonic Society. Among the pieces heplayed, all of his own composition, was his "Quartet for One Violin, "in which his great skill in double and triple harmonics was admirablyshown. Enthusiastic applause greeted the young virtuoso, and he wasescorted home by a torchlight procession of eager and noisy admirers. This was Ole Bull's first really great success, though he had playedin France and Germany. The Italians, with their quick, generousappreciation, and their demonstrative manner of showing admiration, hadgiven him a reception of such unreserved approval as warmed hisartistic ambition to the very core. Mme. Malibran, though annoyed at themischance which glorified another at the expense of De Bériot, was toojust and amiable not to express her hearty congratulations to the youngartist, and De Bériot himself, when he was shortly afterward introducedto Ole Bull, treated him with most brotherly kindness and cordiality. Prince and Princess Poniatowsky also sent their cards to the nowsuccessful artist, and gave him letters of introduction to distinguishedpeople which wore of great use in his concert tour. His career had nowbecome assured, and the world received him with open arms. 

The following year, 1835, contributed a catalogue of similar successesin various cities of Italy and France, culminating in a grand concert atParis in the Opera-house, where the most distinguished musicians of thecity gave their warmest applause in recognition of the growing fame andskill of Ole Bull, for he had already begun to illustrate a new field inmusic by setting the quaint poetic legends and folk-songs of his nativeland. His specialty as a composer was in the domain of descriptivemusic, his genius was for the picturesque. His vivid imagination, full of poetic phantasy, and saturated with the heroic traditions andfairy-lore of a race singularly rich in this inheritance from an earlierage, instinctively flowered into art-forms designed to embody thislegendary wealth. Ole Bull's violin compositions, though dry andrigorous musicians object to them as lacking in depth of science, as shallow and sensational, are distinctly tone-pictures full ofsuggestiveness for the imagination. It was this peculiarity which earlybegan to impress his audiences, and gave Ole Bull a separate place byhimself in an age of eminent players. 

IV. 

In 1836 and 1837 Ole Bull gave one hundred and eighty concerts inEngland during the space of sixteen months. By this time he had becomefamous, and a mere announcement sufficed to attract large audiences. Subsequently he visited successively every town of importance in Europe, earning large amounts of money and golden opinions everywhere. Fora long time our artist used a fine Guarnerius violin and afterward aNicholas Amati, which was said to be the finest instrument of this makein the world. But the violin which Ole Bull prized in latter yearsabove all others was the famous Gaspar di Salo with the scroll carvedby Benvenuto Cellini. Mr. Barnett Phillips, an American _littérateur_, tells the story of this noble old instrument, as related in Ole Bull'swords:

"Well, in 1839 I gave sixteen concerts at Vienna, and then Rhehazek wasthe great violin collector. I saw at his house this violin for the firsttime. I just went wild over it. 'Will you sell it?' I asked. 'Yes, ' wasthe reply--'for one quarter of all Vienna. ' Now Ehehazek was really aspoor as a church mouse. Though he had no end of money put out in themost valuable instruments, he never sold any of them unless when forcedby hunger. I invited Rhehazek to my concerts. I wanted to buy the violinso much that I made him some tempting offers. One day he said tome, 'See here, Ole Bull, if I do sell the violin, you shall have thepreference at four thousand ducats. ' 'Agreed, ' I cried, though I knew itwas a big sum. 

"That violin came strolling, or playing rather, through my brain forsome years. It was in 1841. I was in Leipsic giving concerts. Liszt wasthere, and so also was Mendelssohn. One day we were all dining together. We were having a splendid time. During the dinner came an immense letterwith a seal--an official document. Said Mendelssohn, 'Use no ceremony;open your letter. ' 'What an awful seal!' cried Liszt. 'With yourpermission, ' said I, and I opened the letter. It was from Bhehazek'sson, for the collector was dead. His father had said that the violinshould be offered to me at the price he had mentioned. I told Liszt andMendelssohn about the price. 'You man from Norway, you are crazy, ' saidLiszt. 'Unheard of extravagance, which only a fiddler is capable of, 'exclaimed Mendelssohn. 'Have you ever played on it? Have you ever triedit?' they both inquired. 'Never, ' I answered, 'for it can not be playedon at all just now. '

"I never was happier than when I felt sure that the prize was mine. Originally the bridge was of boxwood, with two fishes carved on it--thatwas the zodiacal sign of my birthday, February--which was a good sign. Oh, the good times that violin and I have had! As to its history, Ehehazek told me that in 1809, when Innspruck was taken by the French, the soldiers sacked the town. This violin had been placed in theInnspruck Museum by Cardinal Aldobrandi at the close of the sixteenthcentury. A French soldier looted it, and sold it to Ehehazek for atrifle. This is the same violin that I played on, when I first cameto the United States, in the Park Theatre. That was on Evacuation day, 1843. I went to the Astor House, and made a joke--I am quite capable ofdoing such things. It was the day when John Bull went out and Ole Bullcame in. I remember that at the very first concert one of my stringsbroke, and I had to work out my piece on the three strings, and it wassupposed I did it on purpose. " Ole Bull valued this instrument as beyondall price, and justly, for there have been few more famous violins thanthe Treasury violin of Innspruck, under which name it was known to allthe amateurs and collectors of the world. 

During his various art wanderings through Europe, Ole Bull made manyfriends among the distinguished men of the world. A dominant prideof person and race, however, always preserved him from the slightestapproach to servility. In 1838 he was presented to Carl Johann, kingof Sweden, at Stockholm. The king had at that time a great feeling ofbitterness against Norway, on account of the obstinate refusal of thepeople of that country to be united with Sweden under his rule. At theinterview with Ole Bull the irate king let fall some sharp expressionsrelative to his chagrin in the matter. 

"Sire, " said the artist, drawing himself up to the fullness of hismagnificent height, and looking sternly at the monarch, "you forget thatI have the honor to be a Norwegian. "

The king was startled by this curt rebuke, and was about to make anangry reply, but smoothed his face and answered, with a laugh:

"Well! well! I know you d--d sturdy fellows. " Carl Johann afterwardbestowed on Ole Bull the order of Gustavus Vasa. 

V. 

Ole Bull's first visit to America was in 1843, and the impressionproduced by his playing was, for manifest causes, even greater than thatcreated in Europe. He was the first really great violinist who had evercome to this country for concert purposes, and there was none otherto measure him by. There were no great traditions of players who hadpreceded him; there were no rivals like Spohr, Paganini, and De Bériotto provoke comparisons. In later years artists discovered that thiscountry was a veritable El Dorado, and regarded an American tour asindispensable to the fulfillment of a well-rounded career. But, when OleBull began to play in America, his performances were revelations, to themasses of those that heard him, of the possibilities of the violin. Thegreatest enthusiasm was manifested everywhere, and, during the threeyears of this early visit, he gave repeated performances in every cityof any note in America. The writer of this little work met Ole Bull afew years ago in Chicago, and heard the artist laughingly say that, when he first entered what was destined to be such a great city, it waslittle more than a vast mudhole, a good-sized village scattered overa wide space of ground, and with no building of pretension except FortDearborn, a stockade fortification. 

Our artist returned to Europe in 1846, and for five years led awandering life of concert-giving in England, France, Holland, Germany, Italy, and Spain, adding to his laurels by the recognition everywhereconceded of the increased soundness and musicianly excellence of hisplaying. It was indeed at this period that Ole Bull attained his best asa virtuoso. He had been previously seduced by the example of Paganini, and in the attempt to master the more strange and remote difficulties ofthe instrument had often laid himself open to serious criticism. But OleBull gradually formed a style of his own which was the outcome of hispassion for descriptive and poetic playing, and the correlative of themode of composition which he adopted. In still later years Ole Bullseems to have returned again to what might be termed claptrap andtrickery in his art, and to have desired rather to excite wonder andcuriosity than to charm the sensibilities or to satisfy the requirementsof sound musical taste. 

In 1851 Ole Bull returned home with the patriotic purpose ofestablishing a strictly national theatre. This had been for a long timeone of the many dreams which his active imagination had conjured up asa part of his mission. He was one of the earliest of that school ofreformers, of whom we have heard so much of late years, that urge thereadoption of the old Norse language--or, what is nearest to it now, the Icelandic--as the vehicle of art and literature. In the attempt todethrone Dansk from its preeminence as the language of the drama, OleBull signally failed, and his Norwegian theatre, established at Bergen, proved only an insatiable tax on money-resources earned in otherdirections. 

The year succeeding this, Ole Bull again visited the United States, and spent five years here. The return to America did not altogethercontemplate the pursuit of music, for there had been for a good whileboiling in his brain, among other schemes, the project of a greatScandinavian colony, to be established in Pennsylvania under hisauspices. He purchased one hundred and twenty-five thousand acres ofland on the Susquehanna, and hundreds of sturdy Norwegians flocked overto the land of milk and honey thus auspiciously opened to them. Timberwas felled, ground cleared, churches, cottages, school-houses built, and everything was progressing desirably, when the ambitious colonizerdiscovered that the parties who sold him the land were swindlers withoutany rightful claim to it. With the unbusiness-like carelessness of theman of genius, our artist had not investigated the claims of otherson the property, and he thus became involved in a most perplexing andexpensive suit at law. He attempted to punish the rascals who so nearlyruined him, but they were shielded behind the quips and quirks of thelaw, and got away scot free. Ole Bull's previously ample means were soheavily drained by this misfortune that he was compelled to take uphis violin again and resume concert-giving, for he had incurred heavypecuniary obligations that must be met. Driven by the most feverishanxiety, he passed from town to town, playing almost every night, tillhe was stricken down by yellow fever in New Orleans. His powerful frameand sound constitution, fortified by the abstemious habits which hadmarked his whole life of queer vicissitudes, carried him through thisdanger safely, and he finally succeeded in honorably fulfilling theresponsibility which he had assumed toward his countrymen. 

For many recent years Ole Bull, when not engaged in concert-giving inEurope or America, has resided at a charming country estate on oneof the little islands off the coast of Norway. His numerous farewellconcert tours are very well known to the public, and would have wonhim ridicule, had not the genial presence and brilliant talents of theNorwegian artist been always good for a renewed and no less cordialwelcome. He frequently referred to the United States in latter years asthe beloved land of his adoption. One striking proof of his preferencewas, at all events, displayed in his marriage to an American lady, MissThorpe, of Wisconsin, in 1870. One son was the fruit of this secondmarriage, and Mr. And Mrs. Ole Bull divided their time between Norwayand the United States. 

The magnificent presence of Ole Bull, as if of some grand old vikingstepped out of his armor and dressed in modern garb, made a mostpicturesque personality. Those who have seen him can never forget him. The great stature, the massive, stalwart form, as upright as a pine, thewhite floating locks framing the ruddy face, full of strength and genialhumor, lit up by keen blue eyes--all these things made Ole Bull the moststriking man in _personnel_ among all the artists who have been familiarto our public. 

While Ole Bull will not be known in the history of art as a greatscientific musician, there can be no doubt that his place as a brilliantand gifted solo player will stand among the very foremost. As a composerhe will probably be forgotten, for his compositions, which made up themost of his concert programmes, were so radically interwoven with hisexecutive art as a virtuoso that the two can not be dissevered. No one, unless he should be inspired by the same feelings which animated thebreast of Ole Bull, could ever evolve from his musical tone-picturesof Scandinavian myth and folk-lore the weird fascination which hisbow struck from the strings. Ole Bull, like Paganini, laid no claim togreatness in interpreting the violin classics. His peculiar title tofame is that of being, aside from brilliancy as a violin virtuoso, themusical exponent of his people and their traditions. He died at Bergen, Norway, on August 18, 1880, in the seventy-first year of his age, and his funeral services made one of the most august and imposingceremonials held for many a long year in Norway. 

MUZIO CLEMENTI

The Genealogy of the Piano-forte. --The Harpsichord its ImmediatePredecessor. --Supposed Invention of the Piano-forte. --Silbermann theFirst Maker. --Anecdote of Frederick the Great. --The Piano-forte onlyslowly makes its Way as against the Clavichord and Harpsichord. --EmanuelBach, the First Composer of Sonatas for the Piano-forte. --His Viewsof playing on the New Instrument. --Haydn and Mozart as Players. --MuzioClementi, the Earliest Virtuoso, strictly speaking, as a Pianist. --Bornin Rome in 1752. --Scion of an Artistic Family. --First MusicalTraining. --Rapid Development of his Talents. --Composes ContrapuntalWorks at the Age of Fourteen. --Early Studies of the Organ andHarpsichord. --Goes to England to complete his Studies. --Createsan Unequaled Furore in London. --John Christian Bach's Opinion ofClementi. --Clementi's Musical Tour. --His Duel with Mozart before theEmperor. --Tenor of Clementi's Life in England. --Clementi's Pupils. --Tripto St. Petersburg. --Sphor's Anecdote of Him. --Mercantile andManufacturing Interest in the Piano as Partner of Collard. --The Playersand Composers trained under Clementi. --His Composition. --Status asa Player. --Character and Influence as an Artist. --Development of theTechnique of the Piano, culminating in Clementi. 

I. 

Before touching the life of Clementi, the first of the great virtuososwho may be considered distinctively composers for and players on thepianoforte, it is indispensable to a clear understanding of the themeinvolved that the reader should turn back for a brief glance at thehistory of the piano and piano-playing prior to his time. Before thepiano-forte came the harpsichord, prior to the latter the spinet, then the virginal, the clavichord, and monochord; before these, theclavieytherium. Before these instruments, which bring us down to moderncivilized times, and constitute the genealogy of the piano-forte, wehave the dulcimer and psaltery, and all the Egyptian, Grecian, and Romanharps and lyres which were struck with a quill or plectrum. No productof human ingenuity has been the outcome of a steady and systematicgrowth from age to age by more demonstrable stages than this mostremarkable of musical instruments. As it is not the intention to offeran essay on the piano, but only to make clearer the conditions underwhich a great school of players began to appear, the antiquities of thetopic are not necessary to be touched. 

The modern piano-forte had as its immediate predecessor the harpsichord, the instrument on which the heroines of the novels of Fielding, Smollett, Richardson, and their contemporaries were wont to discoursesweet music, and for which Haydn and Mozart composed some delightfulminor works. In the harpsichord the strings were set in vibration bypoints of quill or hard leather. One of these instruments looked likea piano, only it was provided with two keyboards, one above the other, related to each other as the swell and main keyboards of an organ. At last it occurred to lovers of music that all refinement of musicalexpression depended on touch, and that whereas a string could be pluckedor pulled by machinery in but one way, it could be hit in a hundredways. It was then that the notion of striking the strings with a hammerfound practical use, and by the addition of this element the piano-forteemerged into existence. The idea appears to have occurred to three menearly in the eighteenth century, almost simultaneously--Cristofori, anItalian, Marins, a Frenchman, and Schrôter, a German. For years attemptsto carry out the new mechanism were so clumsy that good harpsichordson the wrong principle were preferred to poor piano-fortes on the rightprinciple. But the keynote of progress had been struck, and the dayof the quill and leather jack was swiftly drawing to a close. A smallhammer was made to strike the string, producing a marvelously clear, precise, delicate tone, and the "scratch" with a sound at the end of itwas about to be consigned to oblivion for ever and a day. 

Gottfried Silbermann, an ingenious musical instrument maker, ofFreyhurg, Saxony, was the first to give the new principle adequateexpression, about the year 1740, and his pianos excited a great deal ofcuriosity among musicians and scientific men. He followed the mechanismof Cristofori, the Italian, rather than of his own countrymen. Schrôterand his instruments appear to have been ingenious, though SebastianBach, who loved his "well-tempered clavichord" (the most powerfulinstrument of the harpsichord class) too well to be seduced from hisallegiance, pronounced them too feeble in tone, a criticism which heretracted in after years. Silbermann experimented and labored withincessant energy for many years, and he had the satisfaction beforedying of seeing the piano firmly established in the affection andadmiration of the musical world. One of the most authentic of musicalanecdotes is that of the visit of John Sebastian Bach and his son toFrederick the Great, at Potsdam, in 1747. The Prussian king was anenthusiast in music, and himself an excellent performer on the flute, of which, as well as of other instruments, he had a large collection. Hehad for a long time been anxious for a visit from Bach, but that greatman was too much enamored of his own quiet musical solitude torun hither and thither at the beck of kings. At last, after muchsolicitation, he consented, and arrived at Potsdam late in the evening, all dusty and travel-stained. The king was just taking up his fluteto play a concerto, when a lackey informed him of the coming of Bach. Frederick was more agitated than he ever had been in the tumult ofbattle. Crying aloud, "Gentlemen, old Bach is here!" he rushed out tomeet the king in a loftier domain than his own, and ushered him into thelordly company of powdered wigs and doublets, of fair dames shining withjewels, satins, and velvets, of courtiers glittering in all the colorsof the rainbow. "Old Bach" presented a shabby figure amid all thissplendor, but the king cared nothing for that. He was most anxious tohear the grand old musician play on the new Silbermann piano, which wasthe latest hobby of the Prussian monarch. 

It is not a matter of wonder that the lovers of the harpsichord andclavichord did not take kindly to the piano-forte at first. The keysneeded a greater delicacy of treatment, and the very fact that theinstrument required a new style of playing was of course sufficient torelegate the piano to another generation. The art of playing had at thetime of the invention of the piano attained a high degree of efficiency. Such musicians as Do-menico Scarlatti in Italy and John Sebastian Bachin Germany had developed a wonderful degree of skill in treating the_clavecin_, or spinet, and the clavichord, and, if we may trust the oldaccounts, they called out ecstasies of admiration similar to those whichthe great modern players have excited. With the piano-forte, however, anentirely new style of expression came into existence. The power to playsoft or loud at will developed the individual or personal feeling of theplayer, and new effects were speedily invented and put in practice. Theart of playing ceased to be considered from the merely objective pointof view, for the richer resources of the piano suggested the indulgenceof individuality of expression. It was left to Emanuel Bach to makethe first step toward the proper treatment of the piano, and to adapta style of composition expressly to its requirements, though even hecontinued to prefer the clavichord. The rigorous, polyphonic style ofhis illustrious father was succeeded by the lyrical and singingelement, which, if fantastic and daring, had a sweet, bright charm veryfascinating. He writes in one of his treatises: "Methinks musicought appeal directly to the heart, and in this no performer onthe piano-forte will succeed by merely thumping and drumming, or bycontinual arpeggio playing. During the last few years my chief endeavorhas been to play the piano-forte, in spite of its deficiency insustaining the sound, so much as possible, in a singing manner, andto compose for it accordingly. This is by no means an easy task, if wedesire not to leave the ear empty or to disturb the noble simplicity ofthe cantabile by too much noise. "

Haydn and Mozart, who composed somewhat for the harpsichord (for untilthe closing years of the eighteenth century this instrument hadnot entirely yielded to the growing popularity of the piano-forte), distinguished themselves still more by their treatment of the latterinstrument. They closely followed the maxims of Emanuel Bach. Theyaimed to please the public by sweet melody and agreeable harmony, byspontaneous elegance and cheerfulness, by suave and smooth simplicity. Their practice in writing for the orchestra and for voices modifiedtheir piano-forte style both as composers and players, but they neversacrificed that intelligible and simple charm which appeals to theuniversal heart to the taste for grand, complex, and eccentric effects, which has so dominated the efforts of their successors. Mozart's mostdistinguished contemporaries bear witness to his excellence as a player, and his great command over the piano-forte, and his own remarks onpiano-playing are full of point and suggestion. He asserts "that theperformer should possess a quiet and steady hand, with its naturallightness, smoothness, and gliding rapidity so well developed that thepassages should flow like oil. . . . All notes, graces, accents, etc. , should be brought out with fitting taste and expression. . . . In passages[technical figures], some notes may be left to their fate withoutnotice, but is that right? Three things are necessary to a goodperformer"; and he pointed significantly to his head, his heart, andthe tips of his fingers, as symbolical of understanding, sympathy, andtechnical skill. But it was fated that Clementi should be the Columbusin the domain of piano-forte playing and composition. He was the fatherof the school of modern piano technique, and by far surpassed all hiscontemporaries in the boldness, vigor, brilliancy, and variety of hisexecution, and he is entitled to be called first (in respect of date)of the great piano-forte virtuosos, Clementi wrote solely for thisinstrument (for his few orchestral works are now dead). The piano, ashis sole medium of expression, became a vehicle of great eloquence andpower, and his sonatas, as pure types of piano-forte compositions, areunsurpassed, even in this age of exuberant musical fertility. 

II. 

Muzio Clementi was born at Rome in the year 1752, and was the son ofa silver worker of great skill, who was principally engaged on theexecution of the embossed figures and vases employed in the Catholicworship. The boy at a very early age evinced a most decided tastefor music, a predilection which delighted his father, himself anenthusiastic amateur, and caused him to bestow the utmost pains on thecultivation of the child's talents. The boy's first master was Buroni, choir-master a tone of the churches, and a relation of the family. Later, young Clementi took lessons in thorough bass from an eminentorganist, Condicelli, and after a couple of years' application he wasthought sufficiently advanced to apply for the position of organist, which he obtained, his age then being barely nine. He prosecuted hisstudies with great zeal under the ablest masters, and his genius forcomposition as well as for playing displayed a rapid development. By thetime Clementi had attained the age of fourteen he had composed severalcontrapuntal works of considerable merit, one of which, a mass for fourvoices and chorus, gained great applause from the musicians and publicof Rome. 

During his studies of counterpoint and the organ Clementi neverneglected his harpsichord, on which he achieved remarkable proficiency, for the piano-forte at this time, though gradually coming into use, waslooked on rather as a curiosity than an instrument of practical value. The turning-point of Clementi's life occurred in 1767, through hisacquaintance with an English gentleman of wealth, Mr. Peter Beckford, who evinced a deep interest in the young musician's career. After muchopposition Mr. Beckford persuaded the elder Clementi to intrust hisson's further musical education to his care. The country seat of Mr. Beckford was in Dorsetshire, England, and here, by the aid of a finelibrary, social surroundings of the most favorable kind, and indomitableenergy on his own part, he speedily made himself an adept in the Englishlanguage and literature. The talents of Clementi made him almost anAdmirable Crichton, for it is asserted that, in addition to the mostsevere musical studies, he made himself in a few years a proficient inthe principal modern languages, in Greek and Latin, and in thewhole circle of the belles-lettres. His studies in his own art wereprincipally based on the works of Corelli, Alexander Scarlatti, Handel's harpsichord and organ music, and on the sonatas of Paradies, aNeapolitan composer and teacher, who enjoyed high repute in London formany years. Until 1770 Clementi spent his time secluded at his patron'scountry seat, and then fully equipped with musical knowledge, and withan unequaled command of the instrument, he burst on the town as pianistand composer. He had already written at this time his "Opus No. 2, "which established a new era for sonata compositions, and is recognizedto-day as the basis for all modern works of this class. 

Clementi's attainments were so phenomenal that he carried everythingbefore him in London, and met with a success so brilliant as to bealmost without precedent. Socially and musically he was one of theidols of the hour, and the great Handel himself had not met with as muchadulation. Apropos of the great sonata above mentioned, with which theClementi furore began in London, it is said that John Christian Bach, son of Sebastian, one of the greatest executants of the time, confessedhis inability to do it justice, and Schrôter, one of those sharing thehonor of the invention of the piano-forte, and a leading musician of hisage, said, "Only the devil and Clementi could play it. " For seven yearsthe subject of our sketch poured forth a succession of brilliant works, continually gave concerts, and in addition acted as conductor of theItalian opera, a life sufficiently busy for the most ambitious man. In1780 Clementi began his musical travels, and gave the first concertsof his tour at Paris, whither he was accompanied by the great singerPacchierotti. He was received with the greatest favor by the queen, Marie Antoinette, and the court, and made the acquaintance of Gluck, whowarmly admired the brilliant player who had so completely revolutionizedthe style of execution on instruments with a keyboard. Here he also metViotti, the great violinist, and played a _duo concertante_ with thelatter, expressly composed for the occasion. Clementi was delighted withthe almost frantic enthusiasm of the French, so different from the moretemperate approbation of the English. He was wont to say jocosely thathe hardly knew himself to be the same man. From Paris Clementi passed, via Strasburg and Munich, where he was most cordially welcomed, to Vienna, the then musical Mecca of Europe, for it contained twoworld-famed men--"Papa" Haydn and the young prodigy Mozart. The EmperorJoseph II, a great lover of music, could not let the opportunity slip, for he now had a chance to determine which was the greater player, hisown pet Mozart or the Anglo-Italian stranger whose fame as an executanthad risen to such dimensions. So the two musicians fought a musicalduel, in which they played at sight the most difficult works, andimprovised on themes selected by the imperial arbiter. The victorywas left undecided, though Mozart, who disliked the Italians, spokeafterward of Clementi, in a tone at variance with his usual gentleness, as "a mere mechanician, without a pennyworth of feeling or taste. "Clementi was more generous, for he couldn't say too much of Mozart's"singing touch and exquisite taste, " and dated from this meeting aconsiderable difference in his own style of play. 

With the exception of occasional concert tours to Paris, Clementidevoted all his time up to 1802 in England, busy as conductor, composer, virtuoso, and teacher. In the latter capacity he was unrivaled, andpupils came to him from all parts of Europe. Among these pupils wereJohn B. Cramer and John Field, names celebrated in music. In 1802Clementi took the brilliant young Irishman, John Field, to St. Petersburg on a musical tour, where both master and pupil were receivedwith unbounded enthusiasm, and where the latter remained in affluentcircumstances, having married a Russian lady of rank and wealth. Field was idolized by the Russians, and they claim his compositionsas belonging to their music. He is now distinctively remembered as theinventor of that beautiful form of musical writing, the nocturne. Spohr, the violinist, met Clementi and Field at the Russian capital, and givesthe following amusing account in his "Autobiography": "Clementi, a manin his best years, of an extremely lively disposition and very engagingmanners, liked much to converse with me, and often invited me afterdinner to play at billiards. In the evening I sometimes accompanied himto his large piano-forte warehouse, where Field was often obligedto play for hours to display instruments to the best advantage topurchasers. I have still in recollection the figure of the paleovergrown youth, whom I have never since seen. When Field, who hadoutgrown his clothes, placed himself at the piano, stretching out hisarms over the keyboard, so that the sleeves shrank up nearly to theelbow, his whole figure appeared awkward and stiff in the highestdegree. But, as soon as his touching instrumentation began, everythingelse was forgotten, and one became all ear. Unfortunately I could notexpress my emotion and thankfulness to the young man otherwise thanby the pressure of the hand, for he spoke no language but his mothertongue. Even at that time many anecdotes of the remarkable avarice ofthe rich Clementi were related, which had greatly increased in lateryears when I again met him in London. It was generally reported thatField was kept on very short allowance by his master, and was obliged topay for the good fortune of having his instruction by many privations. I myself experienced a little sample of Clementi's truly Italianparsimony, for one day I found teacher and pupil with upturned sleeves, engaged at the wash-tub, washing their stockings and other linen. Theydid not suffer themselves to be disturbed, and Clementi advised me to dothe same, as washing in St. Petersburg was not only very expensive, butthe linen suffered much from the method used in washing it. "

From the above it may be suspected that Clementi was not only playerand composer, but man of business. He had been very successful inmoney-making in England from the start, and it was not many years beforehe accumulated a sufficient amount to buy an interest in the firm ofLongman & Broderip, "manufacturers of musical instruments, and musicsellers to their majesties. " The failure of the house, by which hesustained heavy losses, induced him to try his hand alone at musicpublishing and piano-forte manufacturing; and his great success (thefirm is still extant in the person of his partner's son, Mr. Col-lard)proves he was an exception to the majority of artists, who rarelypossess business talents. Clementi met many reverses in his commercialcareer. In March, 1807, the warehouses occupied by Clementi's new firmwere destroyed by fire, entailing a loss of about forty thousand pounds. But the man's courage was indomitable, and he retrieved his misfortuneswith characteristic pluck and cheerfulness. After 1810 he gave upplaying in public, and devoted himself to composing and the conduct ofhis piano-forte business, which became very large and valuable. Himselfan inventor and mechanician, he made many important improvements in theconstruction of the piano, some of which have never been superseded. 

III. 

Clementi numbers among his pupils more great names in the art ofpiano-forte playing than any other great master. This is partly owingto the fact, it may be, that he began his career in the infancy of thepiano-forte as an instrument, and was the first to establish a solidbasis for the technique of the instrument. In addition to John Field andJ. B. Cramer, previously mentioned, were Zeuner, Dussek, Alex. Kleugel, Ludwig Berger, Kalkbrenner, Charles Mayer, and Meyerbeer. Thesemusicians not only added richly to the literature of the piano-forte, but were splendid exponents of its powers as virtuosos. But mereartistic fame is transitory, and it is in Clementi's contributions tothe permanent history of piano-forte playing that we must find his chiefclaim on the admiration of posterity. He composed not a few works forthe orchestra, and transcriptions of opera, but these have now recededto the lumber closet. The works which live are his piano concertos, ofwhich about sixty were written for the piano alone, and the remainderas duets or trios; and, _par excellence_, his "Gradus ad Parnassum, " asuperb series of one hundred studies, upon which even to-day the solidart of piano-forte playing rests. Clementi's works must always remainindispensable to the pianist, and, in spite of the fact that pianotechnique has made such advances during the last half century, there areseveral of Clementi's sonatas which tax the utmost skill of such playersas Liszt and Von Billow, to whom all ordinary difficulty is merely aplaything. As Viotti was the father of modern violin-playing, Clementimay be considered the father of virtuosoism on the piano-forte, and hehas left an indelible mark, both mechanically and spiritually, onall that pertains to piano-playing. Compared with Clementi's style inpiano-forte composition, that of Haydn and Mozart appears poor and thin. Haydn and Mozart regarded execution as merely the vehicle of ideas, andvalued technical brilliancy less than musical substance. Clementi, onthe other hand, led the way for that class of compositions which paylarge attention to manual skill. His works can not be said to burn withthat sacred fire which inspires men of the highest genius, but they aremagnificently modeled for the display of technical execution, brilliancyof effect, and virile force of expression. The great Beethoven, whocomposed the greatest works for the piano-forte, as also for theorchestra, had a most exalted estimate of Clementi, and never weariedof playing his music and sounding his praises. No musician has probablyexerted more far-reaching effects in this department of his art thanClementi, though he can not be called a man of the highest genius, for this lofty attribute supposes great creative imagination and richresources of thought, as well as knowledge, experience, skill, andtranscendent aptitude for a single instrument. 

As far as a musician of such unique and colossal genius as Beethovencould be influenced by preceding or contemporary artists, his style asa piano-forte player and composer was more modified by Clementi thanby any other. He was wont to say that no one could play till heknew Clementi by heart. He adopted many of the peculiar figures andcombinations original with Clementi, though his musical mentality, incomparably richer and greater than that of the other, transfiguredthem into a new life. That Beethoven found novel means of expressionto satisfy the importunate demands of his musical conceptions; that hispiano works display a greater polyphony, stronger contrasts, bolderand richer rhythm, broader design and execution, by no means impairthe value of his obligations to Clementi, obligations which the mostarrogant and self-centered of men freely allowed. Beethoven's fancy waspenetrated by all the qualities of tone which distinguish the string, reed, and brass instruments; his imagination shot through and throughwith orchestral color; and he succeeded in saturating his sonatas withthese rich effects without sacrificing the specialty of the piano-forte. But in general style and technique he is distinctly a follower ofClementi. The most unique and splendid personality in music has thusbeen singled out as furnishing a vivid illustration of the influenceexerted by Clementi in the department of the piano-forte. 

Clementi lived to the age of eighty, and spent the last twelve years ofhis life in London uninterruptedly, his growing feebleness preventinghim from taking his usual musical trips to the Continent. He retainedhis characteristic energy and freshness of mind to the last, andwas held in the highest honor by the great circle of artists who hadcentered in London, for he was the musical patriarch in England, asCherubini was in France at a little later date. He was married threetimes, had children in his old age, and only a few months beforehis death, Moscheles records in his diary, he was able to arouse thegreatest enthusiasm by the vigor and brilliancy of his playing, in spiteof his enfeebled physical powers. He died March 9, 1832, at Eversham, and his funeral gathered a great convocation of musical celebrities. Hislife covered an immense arch in the history of music. 

At his birth Handel was alive; at his death Beethoven, Schubert, and Weber had found refuge in the grave from the ingratitude of acontemporary public. He began his career by practicing Scarlatti'sharpsichord sonatas; he lived to be acquainted with the finestpiano-forte works of all time. When he first used the piano, hepracticed on the imperfect and feeble Silbermann instrument. When hedied, the magnificent instruments of Erard, Broadwood, and Collard, to the latter of which his own mechanical and musical knowledge hadcontributed much, were in common vogue. Such was the career of MuzioClementi, the father of piano-forte virtuosos. Had he lived later, hemight have been far eclipsed by the great players who have since adornedthe art of music. As Goethe says, through the mouthpiece of Wil-helm. Meister: "The narrowest man may be complete while he moves within thebounds of his own capacity and acquirements, but even fine qualitiesbecome clouded and destroyed if this indispensable proportion isexceeded. This unwholesome excess, however, will begin to appearfrequently, for who can suffice to the swift progress and increasingrequirements of the ever-soaring present time?" But, measured by his ownday and age, Clementi deserves the pedestal on which musical criticismhas placed him. 

MOSCHELES. 

Clementi and Mozart as Points of Departure in Piano-fortePlaying. --Moscheles the most Brilliant Climax reached by the VienneseSchool. --His Child-Life at Prague. --Extraordinary Precocity. --Goes toVienna as the Pupil of Salieri and Albrechts-burger. --Acquaintancewith Beethoven. --Moscheles is honored with a Commission to make a PianoTranscription of Beethoven's "Fidelio. "--His Intercourse with the GreatMan. --Concert Tour. --Arrival in Paris. --The Artistic Circle into whichhe is received. --Pictures of Art-Life in Paris. --London and its MusicalCelebrities. --Career as a Wandering Virtuoso. --Felix Mendelssohn becomeshis Pupil. --The Mendelssohn Family. --Moscheles's Marriage to aHamburg Lady. --Settles in London. --His Life as Teacher, Player, andComposer. --Eminent Place taken by Moscheles among the Musicians ofhis Age. --His Efforts soothe the Sufferings of Beethoven'sDeathbed. --Friendship for Mendelssohn. --Moscheles becomes connected withthe Leipzig Conservatorium. --Death in 1870. --Moscheles as Pianistand Composer. --Sympathy with the Old as against the New School of thePiano. --His Powerful Influence on the Musical Culture and Tendencies ofhis Age. 

I. 

The rivalry of Clementi and Mozart as exponents of piano-forte playingin their day was continued in their schools of performance. The originalcause of this difference was largely based on the character of theinstruments on which they played. Clementi used the English piano-forte, and Mozart the Viennese, and the style of execution was no less theoutcome of the mechanical difference between the two vehicles ofexpression than the result of personal idiosyncrasies. The Englishinstrument was speedily developed into the production of a richer, fuller, and more sonorous tone, while the Viennese piano-forte continuedfor a long time to be distinguished by its light, thin, sweet quality ofsound, and an action so sensitive that the slightest pressure produceda sound from the key, so that the term "breathing on the keys" becamea current expression, Clementi's piano favored a bold, masculine, brilliant style of playing, while the Viennese piano led to a rapid, fluent, delicate treatment. The former player founded the school whichhas culminated, through a series of great players, in the magnificentvirtuosoism of Franz Liszt, while the Vienna school has no nearerrepresentative than Tgnaz Moscheles, one of the greatest players in thehistory of the pianoforte, who, whether judged by his gifts as aconcert performer, a composer for the instrument which he so brilliantlyadorned, or from his social and intellectual prominence, must be setapart as peculiarly a representative man. There were other eminentplayers, such as Hummel, Czerny, and Herz, contemporary with Moschelesand belonging to the same _genre_ as a pianist, but these names do notstand forth with the same clear and permanent luster in their relationto the musical art. 

Ignaz Moscheles was born at Prague, May 30, 1794, his parents beingwell-to-do people of Hebrew stock. His father, a cloth merchant, waspassionately fond of music, and was accustomed to say, "One of mychildren must become a thoroughbred musician. " Ignaz was soon selectedas the one on whom the experiment should be made, and the rapidprogress he made justified the accident of choice, for all of the familypossessed some musical talent. The boy progressed too fast, for heattempted at the age of seven to play Beethoven's "Sonata Pathétique. "He was traveling on the wrong road, attempting what he could in noway attain, when his father took him to Dionys Weber, one of the bestteachers of the time. "I come, " said the parent, "to you as our firstmusician, for sincere truth instead of empty flattery. I want to findout from you if my boy has such genuine talent that you can make areally good musician of him. " "Naturally, I was called on to play, " saysMoscheles, in his "Autobiography, " "and I was bungler enough to do itwith some conceit. My mother having decked me out in my Sunday best, Iplayed my best piece, Beethoven's 'Sonata Pathétique. ' But what was myastonishment on finding that I was neither interrupted by bravos noroverwhelmed by praise! and what were my feelings when Dionys Weberfinally delivered himself thus:

"'Candidly speaking, the boy has talent, but is on the wrong road, forhe makes bosh of great works which he does not understand, and to whichhe is utterly unequal. I could make something of him if you could handhim over to me for three years, and follow out my plan to the letter. The first year he must play nothing but Mozart, the second Clementi, andthe third Bach; but only that: not a note as yet of Beethoven; and ifhe persists in using the circulating libraries, I have done with him forever. '"

This scheme was followed out strictly, and Moscheles at the age offourteen had acquired a sufficient mastery of the piano to give aconcert at Prague with brilliant success. The young musician continuedto pursue his studies assiduously under Weber's direction untilhis father's death, and his mother then determined to yield to hisoft-repeated wish to try his musical fortunes in a larger field, and winhis own way in life. So young Ignaz, little more than a child, went toVienna, where he was warmly received in the hospitable musical circlesof that capital. He took lessons in counterpoint from Albrechts-burger, and in composition from Salieri, and in all ways indicated that serene, tireless industry which marked his whole after-career. Moscheles spenteight years at Vienna, continually growing in estimation as artist andbeginning to make his mark as a composer. His own reminiscences of thebrilliant and gifted men who clustered in Vienna are very pleasant, butit is to Beethoven that his admiration specially went forth. The greatmaster liked his young disciple much, and proposed to him that he shouldset the numbers of "Fidelio" for the piano, a task which, it is needlessto say, was gladly accepted. Moscheles tells us one morning, when hewent to see Beethoven, he found him lying in bed. "He happened to be inremarkably good spirits, jumped up immediately, and placed himself, justas he was, at the window looking out on the Schotten-bastei, with theview of examining the 'Fidelio' numbers which I had arranged. Naturally, a crowd of street-boys collected under the window, when he roared out, 'Now, what do these confounded boys want?' I laughed and pointed to hisown figure. 'Yes, yes! You are quite right, ' he said, and hastily put ona dressing-gown. "

Moscheles's associations were even at this early period with all theforemost people of the age, and he was cordially welcome in everycircle. He composed a good deal, besides giving concerts and playing inprivate select circles, and was recognized as being the equal of Hummel, who had hitherto been accepted as the great piano virtuoso of Vienna. The two were very good friends in spite of their rivalry. They, as wellas all the Viennese musicians, were bound together by a common tie, verywell expressed in the saying of Moscheles: "We musicians, whatever webe, are mere satellites of the great Beethoven, the dazzling luminary. "

II. 

In the autumn of 1816 Moscheles bade a sorrowful adieu to the imperialcity, where he had spent so many happy years, to undertake an extendedconcert tour, armed with letters of introduction to all the courts ofEurope from Prince Lichtenstein, Countess Hardigg, and other influentialadmirers. He proceeded directly to Leipzig, where he was warmly receivedby the musical fraternity of that city, especially by the Wiecks, ofwhose daughter Clara he speaks in highly eulogistic words. He played hisown compositions, which already began to show that serene and finishedbeauty so characteristic of his after-writings. À similar successgreeted him at Dresden, where, among other concerts, he gave one beforethe court. Of this entertainment Moscheles writes: "The court actuallydined (this barbarous custom still prevails), and the royal householdlistened in the galleries, while I and the court band made music tothem, and barbarous it really was; but, in regard to truth, I must addthat royalty and also the lackeys kept as quiet as possible, and theformer congratulated me, and actually condescended to admit me tofriendly conversation. " He continued his concerts in Munich, Augsburg, Amsterdam, Brussels, and other cities, creating the most genuineadmiration wherever he went, and finally reached Paris in December, 1817. 

Here our young artist was promptly received in the extraordinary worldof musicians, artists, authors, wits, and social celebrities which then, as now, made Paris so delightful for those possessing the countersign ofadmission. Baillot, the violinist, gave a private concert in his honor, in which he in company with Spohr played before an audience made up ofsuch artists and celebrities as Cherubini, Auber, Herold, Adam, Lesueur, Pacini, Paer, Habeneck, Plantade, Blangini, La-font, Pleyel, IvanMuller, Viotti, Pellegrini, Boïeldieu, Schlesinger, Manuel Garcia, andothers. These areopagites of music set the mighty seal of their approvalon Moscheles's genius. He was invited everywhere, to dinners, balls, and_fêtes_, and there was no _salon_ in Paris so high and exclusive whichdid not feel itself honored by his presence. His public concerts werethronged with the best and most critical audiences, and he by no meansshone the less that he appeared in conjunction with other distinguishedartists. He often entertained parties of jovial artists at his lodgings, and music, punch, and supper enlivened the night till 3 A. M. Whoevercould play or sing was present, and good music alternated with amusingtricks played on the respective instruments. "Altogether, " he writes, "it is a happy, merry time! Certainly, at the last state dinner ofthe Rothschilds, in the presence of such notabilities as Canningor Narischkin, I was obliged to keep rather in the background. Theinvitation to a large, brilliant, but ceremonious ball appears a veryquestionable way of showing me attention. The drive up, the endlessqueue of carriages, wearied me, and at last I got out and walked. There, too, I found little pleasure. " On the other hand, he praises theperformance of Gluck's opera at the house of the Erards. The "concertsspirituels" delight him. "Who would not, " he says, "envy me thisenjoyment? These concerts justly enjoy a world-wide celebrity. There Ilisten with the most solemn earnestness. " On the other hand, there arecheerful episodes, and jovial dinners with Carl Blum and Schlesinger, atthe Restaurant Lemelle. "Yesterday, " he writes, "Schlesinger quizzed meabout my slowness in eating, and went so far as to make the stupid betwith me, that he would demolish three dozen oysters while I ate onedozen, and he was quite right. On perceiving, however, that he was onthe point of winning, I took to making faces, made him laugh so heartilythat he couldn't go on eating; thus I won my bet. " We find thefollowing notice on the 20th of March: "I spent the evening at Ciceri's, son-in-law of Isabey, the famous painter, where I was introduced toone of the most interesting circles of artists. In the first room wereassembled the most famous painters, engaged in drawing several thingsfor their own amusement. In the midst of these was Cherubini, alsodrawing. I had the honor, like every one newly introduced, of havingmy portrait taken in caricature. Bégasse took me in hand, and succeededwell. In an adjoining room were musicians and actors, among themPonchard, Le-vasseur, Dugazon, Panseron, Mlle, de Munck, and Mme. Livère, of the Théâtre Français. The most interesting of theirperformances, which I attended merely as a listener, was a vocal quartetby Cherubini, performed under his direction. Later in the evening, thewhole party armed itself with larger or smaller 'mirlitons' (reed-pipewhistles), and on these small monotonous instruments, sometimes madeof sugar, they played, after the fashion of Russian horn music, theoverture to 'Demophon, ' two frying-pans representing the drums. " On the27th of March this "mirliton" concert was repeated at Ciceri's, and onthis occasion Cherubini took an active part. Moscheles relates: "HoraceVernet entertained us with his ventriloquizing powers, M. Salmon withhis imitation of a horn, and Dugazon actually with a 'mirliton' solo. Lafont and I represented the classical music, which, after all, held, its own. " It was hard to tear himself from these gayeties; but hehad not visited London, and he was anxious to make himself known at amusical capital inferior to none in Europe. He little thought that inLondon he was destined to find his second home. He plunged into thegayeties and enjoyments of the English capital with no less zest than hehad already experienced in Paris. He found such great players as J. B. Cramer, Ferdinand Ries, Kalkbrenner, and Clementi in the field; butour young artist did not altogether lose by comparison. Among otherdistinguished musicians, Moscheles also met Kiesewetter, the violinist, the great singers Mara and Catalani, and Dragonetti, the greatest ofdouble-bass players. Dragonetti was a most eccentric man, and of himMoscheles says: "In his _salon_ in Liecester Square he has collecteda large number of various kinds of dolls, among them a negress. Whenvisitors are announced, he politely receives them, and says that thisor that young lady will make room for them; he also asks his intimateacquaintances whether his favorite dolls look better or worse sincetheir last visit, and similar absurdities. He is a terrible snuff-taker, helping himself out of a gigantic snuff-box, and he has an immense andvaried collection of snuff-boxes. The most curious part of him is hislanguage, a regular jargon, in which there is a mixture of his nativeBergamese, bad French, and still worse English. "

During the several months of this first English visit Moscheles mademany acquaintances which were destined to ripen into solid friendships, and gave many concerts in which the most distinguished artists, vocaland instrumental, participated. Altogether, he appears to have beendelighted with the London art and social world little less than he hadbeen with that of Paris. He returned, however, to the latter city inAugust, and again became a prominent figure in the most fashionable andadmired concerts. During this visit to Paris he writes in his diary:"Young Erard took me to-day to his piano-forte factory to try the newinvention of his uncle Sebastian. This quicker action of the hammerseems to me so important that I prophesy a new era in the manufactureof piano-fortes. I still complain of some heaviness in the touch, and, therefore, prefer to play on Pape's and Petzold's instruments (Viennesepianos). I admired the Erards, but am not thoroughly satisfied, andurged him to make new improvements. "

From 1815, when Moscheles began his career as a virtuoso in theproduction of his "Variationen fiber den Alexandermarsch, " to 1826, he established a great reputation as a virtuoso and composer for thepiano-forte. Though he played his own works at concerts with markedapprobation, he also became distinguished as an interpreter of Mozartand Beethoven, for whom he had a reverential admiration. Moscheles oftenrecords his own sense of insignificance by the side of these Titansof music. A delightful characteristic of the man was his modesty abouthimself, and his genial appreciation of other musicians. Nowhere dothose performers who, for example, came in active rivalry with himself, receive more cordial and unalloyed praise. Moscheles was entirely devoidof that littleness which finds vent in envy and jealousy, and was asfrank and sympathetic in his estimate of others as he was ambitious andindustrious in the development of his own great talents. In 1824 he gavepiano-forte lessons to Felix Mendelssohn, then a youth of fifteen, atBerlin. He wrote of the Mendelssohn family: "This is a family the likeof which I have never known. Felix, a boy of fifteen, is a phenomenon. What are all prodigies as compared with him? Gifted children, butnothing else. This Felix Mendelssohn is already a mature artist, andyet but fifteen years old! We at once settled down together for severalhours, for I was obliged to play a great deal, when really I wanted tohear him and see his compositions, for Felix had to show me a concertoin C minor, a double concerto, and several motets; and all so full ofgenius, and at the same time so correct and thorough! His elder sisterFanny, also extraordinarily gifted, played by heart, and with admirableprecision, fugues and passacailles by Bach. I think one may well callher a thorough 'Mus. Doc' (guter Musiker). Both parents give one theimpression of being people of the highest refinement. They are far fromoverrating their children's talents; in fact, they are anxious aboutFelix's future, and to know whether his gift will prove sufficient tolead to a noble and truly great career. Will he not, like so many otherbrilliant children, suddenly collapse? I asserted my conscientiousconviction that Felix would ultimately become a great master, that Ihad not the slightest doubt of his genius; but again and again I hadto insist on my opinion before they believed me. These two are notspecimens of the genus prodigy-parents (Wunderkinds Eltern), such as Imost frequently endure. " Moscheles soon came to the conclusion that togive Felix regular lessons was useless. Only a little hint from timeto time was necessary for the marvelous youth, who had already begun tocompose works which excited Moscheles's deepest admiration. 

III. 

In January, 1825, Moscheles, in the course of his musical wanderings, gave several concerts at Hamburg. Among the crowd of listeners whocame to hear the great pianist was Charlotte Embden, the daughter of anexcellent Hamburg family. She was enchanted by the playing of Moscheles, and, when she accidentally made the acquaintance of the performer at thehouse of a mutual acquaintance, the couple quickly became enamored ofeach other. A brief engagement of less than a month was followed bymarriage, and so Moscheles entered into a relation singularly felicitousin all the elements which make domestic life most blessed. After a brieftour in the Rhenish cities, and a visit to Paris, Moscheles proceeded toLondon, where he had determined to make his home, for in no country hadsuch genuine and unaffected cordiality boon shown him, and nowherewere the rewards of musical talent, whether as teacher, virtuoso, orcomposer, more satisfying to the man of high ambition. He made Londonhis home for twenty years, and during this time became one of the mostprominent figures in the art circles of that great city. Moscheles'smental accomplishments and singular geniality of nature contributed, with his very great abilities as a musician, to give him a positionattained by but few artists. He gave lessons to none but the mosttalented pupils, and his services were sought by the most wealthyfamilies of the English capital, though the ability to pay great priceswas by no means a passport to the good graces of Moscheles. Amongthe pupils who early came under the charge of this great master wasThalberg, who even then was a brilliant player, but found in the exactknowledge and great experience of Moscheles that which gave thecrowning finish to his style. Busy in teaching, composing, and publicperformance; busy in responding to the almost incessant demands made bysocial necessity on one who was not only intimate in the best circlesof London society, but the center to whom all foreign artists of meritgravitated instantly they arrived in London; busy in confidentialcorrespondence with all the great musicians of Europe, who discussedwith the genial and sympathetic Moscheles all their plans andaspirations, and to whom they turned in their moments of trouble, hewas indeed a busy man; and had it not been for the loving labors of hiswife, who was his secretary, his musical copyist, and his assistant ina myriad of ways, he would have been unequal to his burden. Moscheles'sdiary tells the story of a man whose life, though one of tirelessindustry, was singularly serene and happy, and without those salientaccidents and vicissitudes which make up the material of a picturesquelife. 

He made almost yearly tours to the Continent for concert-givingpurposes, and kept his friendship with the great composers of theContinent green by personal contact. Beethoven was the god of hismusical idolatry, and his pilgrimage to Vienna was always delightfulto him. When Beethoven, in the early part of 1827, was in dire distressfrom poverty, just before his death, it was to Moscheles that he appliedfor assistance; and it was this generous friend who promptly arrangedthe concert with the Philharmonic Society by which one hundred poundssterling was raised to alleviate the dying moments of the great manwhom his own countrymen would have let starve, even as they had allowedSchubert and Mozart to suffer the direst want on their deathbeds. 

An adequate record of Moscheles's life during the twenty years of hisLondon career would be a pretty full record of all matters of musicalinterest occurring during this time. In 1832 he was made one of thedirectors of the Philharmonic Society, and in 1837-'38 he conductedwith signal success Beethoven's "Ninth Symphony. " When Sir Henry Bishopresigned, in 1845, Moscheles was made the conductor, and thereafterwielded the baton over this orchestra, the noblest in England. Among theyearly pleasures to which our pianist looked forward with the greatestinterest were the visits of Mendelssohn, between whom and Moschelesthere was the most tender friendship. Whole pages of his diary are givenup to an account of Mendelssohn's doings, and to the most enthusiasticexpression of his love and admiration for one of the greatest musicalgeniuses of modern times. 

We can not attempt to follow up the placid and gentle current ofMoscheles's life, flowing on to ever-increasing honor and usefulness, but hasten to the period when he left England in 1846, tobecome associated with Mendelssohn in the conduct of the LeipzigConservatorium, then recently organized. Mendelssohn lived but a fewmonths after achieving this great monument of musical education, butMoscheles remained connected with it for nearly twenty years, and to hisgreat zeal, knowledge, and executive skill is due in large measure thesolid success of the institution. Mendelssohn's early death, while yetin the very prime of creative genius, was a stunning blow to Moscheles;more so, perhaps, than would have occurred from the loss of any oneexcept his beloved wife, the mother of his five children. Our musiciandied himself, in Leipzig, March 10, 1870, and his passage from thisworld was as serene and quiet as his passage through had been. He livedto see his daughters married to men of high worth and position, and hissons substantially placed in life. Perhaps few distinguished musicianshave lived a life of such monotonous happiness, unmarked by those eventswhich, while they give romantic interest to a career, make the gift atthe expense of so much personal misery. 

IV. 

As a pianist Moscheles was distinguished by an incisive, brillianttouch, wonderfully clear, precise phrasing, and close attention to thecareful accentuation of every phase of the composer's meaning. Of theyounger composers for the piano, Mendelssohn and Schumann were the onlyones with whose works he had any sympathy, though he often complains ofthe latter on account of his mysticism. His intelligence had as muchif not more part in his art work than his emotions, and to this we mayattribute that fine symmetry and balance in his own compositions, whichmake them equal in this respect to the productions of Mendelssohn. Chopin he regarded with a sense of admiration mingled with dread, forhe could by no means enter into the peculiar conditions which make theworks of the Polish composer so unique. He wrote of Chopin's "Études, "in 1838: "My thoughts and consequently my fingers ever stumble andsprawl at certain crude modulations, and I find Chopin's productionson the whole too sugared, too little worthy of a man and an educatedmusician, though there is much charm and originality in the nationalcolor of his motive. " When he heard Chopin play in after-years, however, he confessed the fascination of the performance, and bewailed his ownincapacity to produce such effects in execution, though himself one ofthe greatest pianists in the world. So, too, Moscheles, though dazzledby Liszt's brilliant virtuosoism and power of transforming a singleinstrument into an orchestra, shook his head in doubt over suchperformances, and looked on them as charlatanism, which, howevermagnificent as an exhibition of talent, would ultimately help to degradethe piano by carrying it out of its true sphere. Moscheles himself wasa more bold and versatile player than any other performer of his school, but he aimed assiduously to confine his efforts within the perfectlylegitimate and well-established channels of pianism. 

As an extemporaneous player, perhaps no pianist has ever lived who couldsurpass Moscheles. His improvisation on themes suggested by the audiencealways made one of the most attractive features of his concerts. Hisprofound musical knowledge, his strong sense of form, the clearness andprecision with which he instinctively clothed his ideas, as well as thefertility of the ideas themselves, gave his improvised pieces somethingof the same air of completeness as if they were the outcome of hours oflaborious solitude. His very lack of passion and fire were favorableto this clear-cut and symmetrical expression. His last improvisationin public, on themes furnished by the audience, formed part of theprogramme of a concert at London, in 1865, given by Mme. Jenny LindGoldschmidt, in aid of the sufferers by the war between Austria andPrussia, where he extemporized for half an hour on "See the ConqueringHero Comes, " and on a theme from the andante of Beethoven's C MinorSymphony, in a most brilliant and astonishing style. 

Aside from his greatness as a virtuoso and composer for the piano-forte, whose works will always remain classics in spite of vicissitudesof public opinion, even as those of Spohr will for the violin, theinfluence of Moscheles in furtherance of a solid and true musical tastewas very great, and worthy of special notice. Perhaps no one did moreto educate the English mind up to a full appreciation of the greatestmusical works. As teacher, conductor, player, and composer, the lifeof Ignaz Moscheles was one of signal and permanent worth, and itsinfluences fertilized in no inconsiderable streams the public thought, not only of his own times, but indirectly of the generation which hasfollowed. It is not necessary to attribute to him transcendent genius, but lie possessed, what was perhaps of equal value to the world, anintellect and temperament splendidly balanced to the artistic needs ofhis epoch. The list of Moscheles's numbered compositions reaches Op. 142, besides a large number of ephemeral productions which he did notcare to preserve. 

THE SCHUMANNS AND CHOPIN. 

Robert Schumann's Place as a National Composer. --Peculiar Greatness asa Piano-forte Composer. --Born at Zwickau in 1810. --His Father'sAversion to his Musical Studies. --Becomes a Student of Jurisprudencein Leipzig. --Makes the Acquaintance of Clara Wieck. --Tedium of his LawStudies. --Vacation Tour to Italy. --Death of his Father, and Consentof his Mother to Schumann adopting the Profession of Music. --BecomesWieck's Pupil. --Injury to his Hand which prevents all Possibilities ofhis becoming a Great Performer. --Devotes himself to Composition. --TheChild, Clara Wieck--Remarkable Genius as a Player. --Her EarlyTraining. --Paganini's Delight in her Genius. --Clara Wieck'sConcert Tours. --Schumann falls deeply in Love with her, and Wieck'sOpposition. --His Allusions to Clara in the "Neue Zeitschrift. "--Schumannat Vienna. --His Compositions at first Unpopular, though played by ClaraWieck and Liszt. --Schumann's Labors as a Critic. --He Marries Clarain 1840. --His Song Period inspired by his Wife. --Tour to Russia, andBrilliant Reception given to the Artist Pair. --The "Neue Zeitschrift"and its Mission. --The Davidsbund. --Peculiar Style of Schumann'sWriting. --He moves to Dresden. --Active Production in OrchestralComposition. --Artistic Tour in Holland. --He is seized withBrain Disease. --Characteristics as a Man, as an Artist, and as aPhilosopher. --Mme. Schumann as her Husband's Interpreter. --Chopina Colaborer with Schumann. --Schumann on Chopin again. --Chopin'sNativity. --Exclusively a Piano-forte Composer. --His _Genre_ as Pianistand Composer. --Aversion to Concert-giving. --Parisian Associations. --NewStyle of Technique demanded by his Works. --Unique Treatment of theInstrument. --Characteristics of Chopin's Compositions. 

I. 

Robert Schumann shares with Weber the honor of giving the earliestimpulse to what may be called the romantic school of music, which hasculminated in the operatic creations of Richard Wagner. Greatly to thegain of the world, his early aspirations as a mere player were crushedby the too intense zeal through which he attempted to perfect hismanipulation, the mechanical contrivance he used having had theeffect of paralyzing the muscular power of one of his hands. But thisdepartment of art work was nobly borne by his gifted wife, _nee_ ClaraWieck, and Schumann concentrated his musical ambition in the higherfield of composition, leaving behind him works not only remarkable forbeauty of form, but for poetic richness of thought and imagination. Schumann composed songs, cantatas, operas, and symphonies, but it is inhis works for the piano-forte that his idiosyncrasy was most strikinglyembodied, and in which he has bequeathed the most precious inheritanceto the world of art. All his powers were swept impetuously into onecurrent, the poetic side of art, and alike as critic and composer hestands in a relation to the music of the pianoforte which places him ona pinnacle only less lofty than that of Beethoven. 

Robert Schumann was born in the small Saxon town of Zwickau in theyear 1810, and was designed by his father, a publisher and authorof considerable reputation, for the profession of the law. The elderSchumann, though a man of talent and culture, had a deep distaste forhis son's clearly displayed tendencies to music, and though he permittedhim to study something of the science in the usual school-boy way (formusic has always been a part of the educational course in Germany), hediscouraged in every way Robert's passion. The boy had quickly become aclever player, and even at the age of eight had begun to put his ideason paper. We are told by his biographers that he was accustomedto extemporize at school, and had such a knack in portraying thecharacteristics of his school-fellows in music as to make his purposeinstantly recognizable. His father died when Schumann was onlyseventeen, and his mother, who was also bent on her son becoming ajurist, became his guardian. It was a severe battle between tasteand duty, but love for his widowed mother conquered, and young RobertSchumann entered the University of Leipzig as a law student. It was witha feeling almost of despair that he wrote at this time, "I have decidedupon law as my profession, and will work at it industriously, howevercold and dry the beginning may be. " Previously, however, he had spent ayear in the household of Frederick Wieck, the distinguished teacher ofmusic. So much he had exacted before succumbing to maternal pleading. At this time he first made the acquaintance of a charming and precociouschild, Clara Wieck, who played such an important part in his futurelife. 

Robert Schumann's law studies were inexpressibly tedious to him, and sohe told his sympathetic professor, the learned Thibaut, author of thetreatise "On the Purity of Music, " in a characteristic manner. He wentto the piano and played Weber's "Invitation to the Waltz, " commenting onthe different passages: "Now she speaks--that's the love prattle; nowhe speaks--that's the man's earnest voice; now both the lovers speaktogether "; concluding with the remark, "Isn't all that better far thananything that jurisprudence can utter?" The young student became quitepopular in society as a pianist, heard Ernst and Paganini for the firsttime, and composed several works, among them the Toccata in D major. The genius for music would come to the fore in spite of jurisprudence. A vacation trip to Italy which the young man made gave fresh fuel tothe flame, and he began to write the most passionate pleas to hismother that she should con sent to his adoption of a musical career. Thedistressed woman wrote to Wieck to know what he thought, and the answerwas favorable to Robert's aspirations. Robert was intoxicated with hismother's concession, and he poured out his enthusiasm to Wieck: "Takeme as I am, and, above all, bear with me. No blame shall depress me, nopraise make me idle. Pails upon pails of very cold theory can not hurtme, and I will work at it without the least murmur. "

Taking lodgings at the house of Wieck, Schumann devoted himself topiano-forte playing with intense ardor; but his zeal outran prudence. To hasten his proficiency and acquire an independent action for eachfinger, he contrived a mechanical apparatus which held the thirdfinger of the right hand immovable, while the others went through theirevolutions. The result was such a lameness of the hand that it wasincurable, and young Schumann's career as a virtuoso was for everchecked. His deep sorrow, however, did not unman him long, for he turnedhis attention to the study of composition and counterpoint under Kupsch, and, afterward, Heinrich Dorn. He remained for three years under Wieck'sroof, and the companionship of the child Clara, whose marvelous musicalpowers were the talk of Leipzig, was a sweet consolation to him in histroubles and his toil, though ten years his junior. The love, whichbecame a part of his life, had already begun to flutter into unconsciousbeing in his feeling for a shy and reserved little girl. 

Schumann tells us that the year 1834 was the most important one of hislife, for it witnessed the birth of the "N'eue Zeitschrift fur Musik, "a journal which was to embody his notions of ideal music, and to be theorgan of a clique of enthusiasts in lifting the art out of Philistinismand commonplace. The war-cry was "Reform in art, " and never-endingbattle against the little and conventional ideas which were believedthen to be the curse of German music. Among the earlier contributorswere Wieck, Schumke, Knorr, Banck, and Schumann himself, who wroteunder the pseudonyms Florestan and Eusebius. Between his new journal andcomposing, Schumann was kept busy, but he found time to persuade himselfthat he was in love with Frâulein Ernestine von Fricken, a beautiful butsomewhat frivolous damsel, who became engaged to the young composer andeditor. Two years cooled off this passion, and a separation was mutuallyagreed on. Perhaps Schumann recognized something, in the lovely childwho was swiftly blooming into maidenhood, which made his own inner soulprotest against any other attachment. 

II. 

It would have been very strange indeed if two such natures as ClaraWieck and Robert Schumann had not gravitated toward each other duringthe almost constant intercourse between them which took place between1835 and 1838. Clara, born in 1820, had been her father's pupil from hertenderest childhood, but the development of her musical gifts was notforced in such a way as to interfere with her health and the exuberanceof her spirits. The exacting teacher was also a tender father and aman of ripe judgment, and he knew the bitter price which mere mentalprecocity so frequently has to pay for its existence. 

But the young girl's gifts were so extraordinary, and withal hercharacter so full of childish simplicity and gayety, that it wasdifficult to think of her as of the average child phenomenon. At the ageof nine she could play Mozart's concertos, and Hummel's A minor Concertofor the orchestra, one of the most difficult of compositions. A yearlater she began to compose, and improvised without difficulty, for herlessons in counterpoint and harmony had kept pace with her studies ofpianoforte technique. Paganini visited Leipzig at this period, and wasso astonished at the little Clara's precocious genius that he insistedon her presence at all his concerts, and addressed her with the deepestrespect as a fellow-artist. She first appeared in public concert atthe age of eleven, in Leipzig, Weimar, and other places, playing Pixis, Moscheles, Mendelssohn, Beethoven, and Chopin. The latter of thesecomposers was then almost unknown in Germany, and Clara Wieck, youngas she was, contributed largely to making him popular. A year later shevisited Paris in company with her father, and heard Chopin, Liszt, andKalkbrenner, who on their part were delighted with the little artist, who, beneath the delicacy and timidity of the child, indicatedextraordinary powers. Society received her with the most flatteringapprobation, and when her father allowed her to appear in concert herplaying excited the greatest delight and surprise. Her improvisationspecially displayed a vigor of imagination, a fine artistic taste, anda well-defined knowledge which justly called out the most enthusiasticrecognition. 

When Clara Wieck returned home, she gave herself up to work with freshardor, studying composition under Heinrich Dorn, singing under thecelebrated Mieksch, and even violin-playing, so great was her ambitionfor musical accomplishments. From 1836 to 1838 she made an extendedmusical tour through Germany, and was welcomed as a musico-poetic idealby the enthusiasts who gathered around her. The poet Grillparzer spokeof her as "the innocent child who first unlocked the casket in whichBeethoven buried his mighty heart, " and it must be confessed that ClaraWieck, even as a young girl, did more than any other pianist to developa love of and appreciation for the music of the Titan of composers. 

Long before Schumann distinctly contemplated the image of Clara asthe beloved one, the half of his soul, he had divined her genius, andexpressed his opinion of her in no stinted terms of praise. When she wasas yet only thirteen, he had written of her in his journal: "As Iknow people who, having but just heard Clara, yet rejoice in theiranticipation of their next occasion of hearing her, I ask, What sustainsthis continual interest in her? Is it the 'wonder child' herself, atwhose stretches of tenths people shake their heads while they are amazedat them, or the most difficult difficulties which she sportively flingstoward the public like flower garlands? Is it the special pride ofthe city with which a people regards its own natives? Is it that shepresents to us the most interesting productions of recent art in asshort a time as possible? Is it that the masses understand that artshould not depend on the caprices of a few enthusiasts, who would directus back to a century over whose corpse the wheels of time are hastening?I know not; I only feel that here we are subdued by genius, which menstill hold in respect. In short, we here divine the presence of a powerof which much is spoken, while few indeed possess it. . . . Early shedrew the veil of Isis aside. Serenely the child looks up; older eyes, perhaps, would have been blinded by that radiant light. . . . To Clarawe dare no longer apply the measuring scale of age, but only that offulfillment. . . . Clara Wieck is the first German artist. . . . Pearls do notfloat on the surface; they must be sought for in the deep, often withdanger. But Clara is an intrepid diver. "

The child whose genius he admired ripened into a lovely young woman, andSchumann became conscious that there had been growing in his heart foryears a deep, ardent love. He had fancied himself in love morethan once, but now he felt that he could make no mistake as to thegenuineness of his feelings. In 1836 he confessed his feelings to theobject of his affections, and discovered that he not only loved butwas loved, for two such gifted and sympathetic natures could hardly bethrown together for years without the growth of a mutual tenderness. The marriage project was not favored by Papa Wieck, much as he liked theyoung composer who had so long been his pupil and a member of his familycircle. The father of Clara looked forward to a brilliant artisticcareer for his daughter, perhaps hoped to marry her to some serenehighness, and Schumann's prospects were as yet very uncertain. So hetook Clara on a long artistic journey through Germany, with a view ofquenching this passion by absence and those public adulations which heknew Clara's genius would command. But nothing shook the devotion ofher heart, and she insisted on playing the compositions of the youngcomposer at her concerts, as well as those of Beethoven, Liszt, andChopin, the latter two of whom were just beginning to be known andadmired. 

Hoping to overcome Papa Wieck's opposition by success, Schumann tookhis new journal to Vienna, and published it in that city, carrying onsimultaneously with his editorial duties active labors in composition. The attempt to better his fortunes in Vienna, however, did not provevery successful, and after six months he returned again to Leipzig. Schumann's generous sympathy with other great musicians was signallyshown in his very first Vienna experiences, for he immediately madea pious pilgrimage to the Währing cemetery to offer his pious gift offlowers on the graves of Beethoven and Schubert. On Beethoven's gravehe found a steel pen, which he preserved as a sacred treasure, and usedafterward in writing his own finest musical fancies. He remembered, too, that the brother of Schubert, Ferdinand, was still living in a suburbof Vienna. "He knew me, " Schumann says, "from my admiration for hisbrother, as I had publicly expressed it, and showed me many things. Atlast he let me look at the treasures of Franz Schubert's compositions, which he still possesses. The wealth that lay heaped up made me shudderwith joy, what to take first, where to cease. Among other things, healso showed me the scores of several symphonies, of which many had neverbeen heard, while others had been tried, but put back, on the score oftheir being too difficult and bombastic. " One of these symphonies, thatin C major, the largest and grandest in conception, Schumann choseand sent to Leipzig, where it was soon afterward produced underMendelssohn's direction at one of the Ge-wandhaus concerts, and producedan immediate and profound sensation. For the first time the worldwitnessed, in a more expanded sphere, the powers of a composer the verybeauties of whose songs had hitherto been fatal to his general success. During this period of Schumann's life the most important works hecomposed were the "Études Symphoniques, " the famous "Carnival" dedicatedto Liszt, the "Scenes of Childhood, " the "Fantasia" dedicated to Liszt, the "Novellettes, " and "Kreisleriana. " As he writes to Heinrich Dorn:"Much music is the result of the contest I am passing through forClara's sake. " Schumann's compositions had been introduced to the publicby the gifted interpretation of Clara Wieck, with whom it was a labor oflove, and also by Franz Liszt, then rising almost on the top wave of hisdazzling fame as a virtuoso. Liszt was a profound admirer of the lessfortunate Schumann, and did everything possible to make him a favoritewith the public, but for a long time in vain. Liszt writes of this asfollows: "Since my first knowledge of his compositions I had played manyof them in private circles at Milan and Vienna, without having succeededin winning the approbation of my hearers. These works were, fortunatelyfor them, too far above the then trivial level of taste to find a homein the superficial atmosphere of popular applause. The public did notfancy them, and few players understood them. Even in Leipzig, where Iplayed the 'Carnival' at my second Gewandhaus concert, I did notobtain my customary applause. Musicians, even those who claimed to beconnoisseurs also, carried too thick a mask over their ears to be ableto comprehend that charming 'Carnival, ' harmoniously framed as it is, and ornamented with such rich variety of artistic fancy. I did notdoubt, however, but that this work would eventually win its place ingeneral appreciation beside Beethoven's thirty-three variations on atheme by Diabelli (which work it surpasses, according to my opinion, inmelody, richness, and inventiveness). " Both as a composer and writer onmusic, Schumann embodied his deep detestation of the Philistinism andcommonplace which stupefied the current opinions of the time, and herepresented in Germany the same battle of the romantic in art againstwhat was known as the classical which had been carried on so fiercely inFrance by Berlioz, Liszt, and Chopin. 

III. 

The year 1840 was one of the most important in Schumann's life. InFebruary he was created Doctor of Philosophy in the University of Jena, and, still more precious boon to the man's heart, Wieck's objections tothe marriage with Clara had been so far melted away that he consented, though with reluctance, to their union. The marriage took place quietlyat a little church in Schônfeld, near Leipzig. This year was one of themost fruitful of Schumann's life. His happiness burst forth in lyricforms. He wrote the amazing number of one hundred and thirty-eightsongs, among which the more famous are the set entitled "Myrtles, " thecycles of song from Heine, dedicated to Pauline Viardot, Chamisso's"Woman's Love and Life, " and Heine's "Poet Love. " Schumann as asong-writer must be called indeed the musical reflex of Heine, for hisimmortal works have the same passionate play of pathos and melancholy, the sharp-cut epigrammatic form, the grand swell of imagination, impatient of the limits set by artistic taste, which characterize thepoet themes. Schumann says that nearly all the works composed at thistime were written under Clara's inspiration solely. Blest with thecontinual companionship of a woman of genius, as amiable as she wasgifted, who placed herself as a gentle mediator between Schumann'sintellectual life and the outer world, he composed many of his finestvocal and instrumental compositions during the years immediatelysucceeding his marriage; among them the cantata "Paradise and thePeri, " and the "Faust" music. His own connection with public lifewas restricted to his position as teacher of piano-forte playing, composition, and score playing at the Leipzig Conservatory, while thegifted wife was the interpreter of his beautiful piano-forte works as anexecutant. A more perfect fitness and companionship in union could nothave existed, and one is reminded of the married life of the poet pair, the Brownings. After four years of happy and quiet life, in which mentalactivity was inspired by the most delightful of domestic surroundings, an artistic tour to St. Petersburg was undertaken by Robert and ClaraSchumann. Our composer did not go without reluctance. "Forgive me, " hewrites to a friend, "if I forbear telling you of my unwillingness toleave my quiet home. " He seems to have had a melancholy premonition thathis days of untroubled happiness were over. A genial reception awaitedthem at the Russian capital. They were frequently invited to the WinterPalace by the emperor and empress, and the artistic circles of the citywere very enthusiastic over Mme. Schumann's piano-forte playing. Sincethe days of John Field, Clementi's great pupil, no one had raised sucha furore among the music-loving Russians. Schumann's music, which it washis wife's dearest privilege to interpret, found a much warmer welcomethan among his own countrymen at that date. In the Sclavonic naturethere is a deep current of romance and mysticism, which met withinstinctive sympathy the dreamy and fantastic thoughts which ran riot inSchumann's works. 

On returning from the St. Petersburg tour, Schumann gave up the "NeueZeitschrift, " the journal which he had made such a powerful organ ofmusical revolution, and transferred it to Oswald Lorenz. Schumann'sliterary work is so deeply intertwined with his artistic life andmission that it is difficult, perhaps impossible, to separate the two. He had achieved a great work--he had planted in the German mind thethought that there was such a thing as progress and growth; thatstagnation was death; and that genius was for ever shaping for itselfnew forms and developments. He had taught that no art is an end toitself, and that, unless it embodies the deep-seated longings andaspirations of men ever striving toward a loftier ideal, it becomesbarren and fruitless--the mere survival of a truth whose need hadceased. He was the apostle of the musico-poetical art in Germany, and, both as author and composer, strove with might and main to educate hiscountrymen up to a clear understanding of the ultimate outcome of thework begun by Beethoven, Schubert, and Weber. 

Schumann as a critic was eminently catholic and comprehensive. Deeplyappreciative of the old lights of music, he received with enthusiasm allthe fresh additions contributed by musical genius to the progress ofhis age. Eschewing the cold, objective, technical form of criticism, his method of approaching the work of others was eminently subjective, casting on them the illumination which one man of genius givesto another. The cast of his articles was somewhat dramatic andconversational, and the characters represented as contributingtheir opinions to the symposium of discussion were modeled on actualpersonages. He himself was personified under the dual form of Florestanand Eusebius, the "two souls in his breast"--the former, the fieryiconoclast, impulsive in his judgments and reckless in attackingprejudices; the latter, the mild, genial, receptive dreamer. MasterRaro, who stood for Wieck, also typified the calm, speculative side ofSchumann's nature. Chiara represented Clara Wieck, and personified thefeminine side of art. So the various personages were all modeled afterassociates of Schumann, and, aside from the freshness and fascinationwhich this method gave his style, it enabled him to approach hissubjects from many sides. The name of the imaginary society was theDavids-bund, probably from King David and his celebrated harp, orperhaps in virtue of David's victories over the Philistines of his day. 

As an illustration of Schumann's style and method of treating musicalsubjects, we can not do better than give his article on Chopin's "DonJuan Fantasia": "Eusebius entered not long ago. You know his pale faceand the ironical smile with which he awakens expectation. I sat withFlorestan at the piano-forte. Florestan is, as you know, one ofthose rare musical minds that foresee, as it were, coming novel orextraordinary things. But he encountered a surprise today. With thewords 'Off with your hats, gentlemen! a genius, ' Eusebius laid down apiece of music. We were not allowed to see the title-page. I turned overthe music vacantly; the veiled enjoyment of music which one does nothear has something magical in it. And besides this, it seems that everycomposer has something different in the note forms. Beethoven looksdifferently from Mozart on paper; the difference resembles that betweenJean Paul's and Goethe's prose. But here it seemed as if eyes, strange, were glancing up to me--flower eyes, basilisk eyes, peacock's eyes, maiden's eyes; in many places it looked yet brighter. I thought Isaw Mozart's 'La ci darem la mano' wound through a hundred chords. _Leporello_ seemed to wink at me, and _Don Juan_ hurried past in hiswhite mantle. 'Now play it, ' said Florestan. Eusebius consented, and we, in the recess of a window, listened. Eusebius played as though he wereinspired, and led forward countless forms filled with the liveliest, warmest life; it seemed that the inspiration of the moment gave to hisfingers a power beyond the ordinary measure of their cunning. It is truethat Florestan's whole applause was expressed in nothing but a happysmile, and the remark that the variations might have been written byBeethoven or Franz Schubert, had either of these been a piano virtuoso;but how surprised he was when, turning to the title-page, he read 'La cidarem la mano, varié pour le piano-forte, par Frederic Chopin, Ouvre 2, 'and with what astonishment we both cried out, 'An Opus 2!' How our facesglowed as we wondered, exclaiming, 'That is something reasonable oncemore! Chopin? I never heard of the name--who can he be? In any case, agenius. Is not that _Zerlina's_ smile, And _Leporello_, etc' I could notdescribe the scene. Heated with wine, Chopin, and our own enthusiasm, we went to Master Raro, who with a smile, and displaying but littlecuriosity for Chopin, said, 'Bring me the Chopin! I know you and yourenthusiasm. ' We promised to bring it the next day. Eusebius soon bade usgood-night. I remained a short time with Master Raro. Florestan, who hadbeen for some time without a habitation, hurried to my house through themoonlit streets. 'Chopin's variations, ' he began, as if in a dream, 'are constantly running through my head; the whole is so dramaticand Chopin-like; the introduction is so concentrated. Do you remember_Leporello's_ springs in thirds? That seems to me somewhat unfittedto the theme; but the theme--why did he write that in A flat? Thevariations, the finale, the adagio, these are indeed something; geniusburns through every measure. Naturally, dear Julius, _Don Juan, Zerlina, Leporello, Massetto_, are the _dramatis persona; Zerlina's_ answer inthe theme has a sufficiently enamored character; the first variationexpresses, a kind of coquettish coveteousness: the Spanish Grandeeflirts amiably with the peasant girl in it. This leads of itself to thesecond, which is at once confidential, disputative, and comic, as thoughtwo lovers were chasing each other and laughing more than usual aboutit. How all this is changed in the third! It is filled with fairy musicand moonshine; _Masetto_ keeps at a distance, swearing audibly, butwithout any effect on _Don Juan_. And now the fourth--what do youthink of it? Eusebius played it altogether correctly. How boldly, howwantonly, it springs forward to meet the man! though the adagio (itseems quite natural to me that Chopin repeats the first part) is inB flat minor, as it should be, for in its commencement it presents abeautiful moral warning to _Don Juan_. It is at once so mischievousand beautiful that _Leporello_ listens behind the hedge, laughing andjesting that oboes and clarionettes enchantingly allure, and that theB flat major in full bloom correctly designates the first kiss of love. But all this is nothing compared to the last (have you any more wine, Julius?). That is the whole of Mozart's finale, popping champagne corks, ringing glasses, _Leporello's_ voice between, the grasping, torturingdemons, the fleeing _Don Juan_--and then the end, that beautifullysoothes and closes all. ' Florestan concluded by saying that he had neverexperienced feelings similar to those awakened by the finale. When theevening sunlight of a beautiful day creeps up toward the highest peaks, and when the last beam vanishes, there comes a moment when the whiteAlpine giants close their eyes. We feel that we have witnessed aheavenly apparition. 'And now awake to new dreams, Julius, and sleep. ''Dear Flores-tan, ' I answered, 'these confidential feelings, are perhapspraiseworthy, although somewhat subjective; but as deeply as yourself Ibend before Chopin's spontaneous genius, his lofty aim, his mastership;and after that we fell asleep. '" This article was the first journalisticrecord of Chopin's genius. 

IV. 

When Schumann gave up his journal in 1845 he moved to Dresden, and hebegan to suffer severely from the dreadful disorder to which he fell avictim twelve years later. This disease--an abnormal formation ofbone in the brain--afflicted him with excruciating pains in the head, sleeplessness, fear of death, and strange auricular delusions. A sojournat Parma, where he had complete repose and a course of sea-bathing, partially restored his health, and he gave himself up to musicalcomposition again. During the next three years, up to 1849, Schumannwrote some of his finest works, among which may be mentioned his opera"Genoviva, " his Second symphony, the cantata "The Rose's Pilgrimage, "more beautiful songs, much piano-forte and concerted music, and themusical illustrations of Byron's "Manfred, " which latter is one of hisgreatest orchestral works. 

During the years 1850 to 1854 Schumann composed his "Rhenish Symphony, "the overtures to the "Bride of Messina" and "Hermann and Dorothea, "and many vocal and piano-forte works. He accepted the post of musicaldirector at Dûsseldorf in 1850, removed to that city with his wife andchildren, and, on arriving, the artistic pair were received with acivic banquet. The position was in many respects agreeable, but theresponsibilities were too great for Schumann's declining health, andprobably hastened his death. In 1853 Robert and Clara Schumann madea grand artistic tour through Holland, which resembled a triumphalprocession, so great was the musical enthusiasm called out. When theyreturned Schumann's malady returned with double force, and on February27, 1854, he attempted to end his misery by jumping into the Rhine. Madness had seized him with a clutch which was never to be released, except at short intervals. Every possible care was lavished on him byhis heartbroken and devoted wife, and the assiduous attention of thefriends who reverenced the genius now for ever quenched. The last twoyears of his life were spent in the private insane asylum at Endenich, near Bonn, where he died July 20, 1856. Schumann possessed a wealth ofmusical imagination which, if possibly equaled in a few instances, isnowhere surpassed in the records of his art. For him music possessedall the attributes inherent in the other arts--absolute color andflexibility of form. That he attempted to express these phases of artexpression, with an almost boundless trust in their applicability totone and sound, not unfrequently makes them obscure to the last degree, but it also gave much of his composition a richness, depth, and subtiltyof suggestive power which place them in a unique niche, and willalways preserve them as objects of the greatest interest to the musicalstudent. There is no doubt that his increasing mental malady is evidentin the chaotic character of some of his later orchestral compositions, but, in those works composed during his best period, splendor ofimagination goes hand in hand with genuine art treatment. This isspecially noticeable in the songs and the piano-forte works. Schumannwas essentially lyrical and subjective, though his intellectual breadthand culture (almost unrivaled among his musical compeers) always kepthim from narrowness as a composer. He led the van in the formation ofthat pictorial and descriptive style of music which has asserted itselfin German music, but his essentially lyric personality in his attitudeto the outer world presented the external thoroughly saturated andmodified by his own moods and feelings. 

In his piano-forte works we find his most complete and satisfactorydevelopment as the artist composer. Here the world, with its myriadimpressions, its facts, its purposes, its tendencies, met the man andcommingled in a series of exquisite creations, which are true tonepictures. In this domain Beethoven alone was worthy to be compared withhim, though the animus and scheme of the Beethoven piano-forte worksgrew out of a totally different method. 

In personal appearance Schumann bore the marks of the man of genius. Ashe reached middle age we are told of him that his figure was of middleheight, inclined to stoutness, that his bearing was dignified, hismovements slow. His features, though irregular, produced an agreeableimpression; his forehead was broad and high, the nose heavy, the eyesexcessively bright, though generally veiled and downcast, the mouthdelicately cut, the hair thick and brown, his cheeks full and ruddy. Hishead was squarely formed, of an intensely powerful character, and thewhole expression of his face sweet and genial. Even when young he wasdistinguished by a kind of absent-mindedness that prevented him fromtaking much part in conversation. Once, it is said, he entered a lady'sdrawing-room to call, played a few chords on the piano, and smilinglyleft without speaking a word. But, among intimate friends, he could beextraordinarily fluent and eloquent in discussing an interesting topic. He was conscious of his own shyness, and once wrote to a friend: "Ishall be very glad to see you here. In me, however, you must not expectto find much. I scarcely ever speak except in the evening, and most inplaying the piano. " His wife was the crowning blessing of his life. Shewas not only his consoler, but his other intellectual life, for she, with her great powers as a virtuoso, interpreted his music to the world, both before and after his death. It has rarely been the lot of an artistto see his most intimate feelings and aspirations embodied to the worldby the genius of the mother of his children. Well did Ferdinand Hillerwrite of this artist couple: "What love beautified his life! A womanstood beside him, crowned with the starry circlet of genius, to whom heseemed at once the father to his daughter, the master to the scholar, the bridegroom to the bride, the saint to the disciple. "

Clara Schumann still lives, though becoming fast an old woman in years, if still young in heart, and still able to win the admiration of themusical world by her splendid playing. Berlioz, who heard her in heryouth, pronounced her the greatest virtuoso in Germany, in one of hisletters to Heine; and while she was little more than a child she hadgained the heartiest admiration in England, France, and Germany. HenryChorley heard her at Leipzig in 1839, and speaks of "the organ-playingon the piano of Mme. Schumann (better known in England under the name ofClara Wieck), who commands her instrument with the enthusiasm of a sibyland the grasp of a man. " Since Schumann's death, Mme. Schumann has beenknown as the exponent of her husband's works, which she has performed inGermany and England with an insight, a power of conception, and a beautyof treatment which have contributed much to the recognition of hisremarkable genius. 

V. 

The name of Frederic Francis Chopin is so closely linked in the mindsof musical students with that of Schumann in that art renaissance whichtook place almost simultaneously in France and Germany, when so manydaring and original minds broke loose from the petrifactions of customand tradition, that we shall not venture to separate them here. Chopinwas too timid and gentle to be a bold aggressor, like Berlioz, Liszt, and Schumann, but his whole nature responded to the movement, and hischarming and most original compositions, which glow with the fire of agenius perhaps narrow in its limits, have never been surpassed for theirindividuality and poetic beauty. The present brief sketch of Chopindoes not propose to consider his life biographically, full of pathos andromance as that life may be. *

 * See article Chopin, in "Great German Composers. "

Schumann, in his "N'eue Zeitschrift, " sums up the characteristics of thePolish composer admirably; "Genius creates kingdoms, the smaller statesof which are again divided by a higher hand among talents, that thesemay organize details which the former, in its thousand-fold activity, would be unable to perfect. As Hummel, for example, followed the callof Mozart, clothing the thoughts of that master in a flowing, sparklingrobe, so Chopin followed Beethoven. Or, to speak more simply, as Hummelimitated the style of Mozart in detail, rendering it enjoyable to thevirtuoso on one particular instrument, so Chopin led the spirit ofBeethoven into the concert-room. 

"Chopin did not make his appearance accompanied by an orchestral army, as great genius is accustomed to do; he only possessed a small cohort, but every soul belongs to him to the last hero. 

"He is the pupil of the first masters--Beethoven, Schubert, Field. Thefirst formed his mind in boldness, the second his heart in tenderness, the third his hand to its flexibility. Thus he stood well provided withdeep knowledge in his art, armed with courage in the full consciousnessof his power, when in the year 1830 the great voice of the people arosein the West. Hundreds of youths had waited for the moment; but Chopinwas the first on the summit of the wall, behind which lay a cowardlyrenaissance, a dwarfish Philistinism, asleep. Blows were dealt rightand left, and the Philistines awoke angrily, crying out, 'Look at theimpudent one!' while others behind the besieger cried, 'The one of noblecourage. '

"Besides this, and the favorable influence of period and condition, faterendered Chopin still more individual and interesting in endowing himwith an original pronounced nationality; Polish, too, and because thisnationality wanders in mourning robes in the thoughtful artist, itdeeply attracts us. It was well for him that neutral Germany did notreceive him too warmly at first, and that his genius led him straightto one of the great capitals of the world, where he could freely poetizeand grow angry. If the powerful autocrat of the North knew what adangerous enemy threatens him in Chopin's works in the simple melodiesof his mazurkas, he would forbid music. Chopin's works are cannonsburied in flowers. . . . He is the boldest, proudest poet soul of to-day. "

But Schumann could have said something more than this, and added thatChopin was a musician of exceptional attainments, a virtuoso of the veryhighest order, a writer for the piano pure and simple preeminent beyondexample, and a master of a unique and perfect style. 

Chopin was born of mixed French and Polish parentage, February 8, 1810, at Zelazowa-Wola, near Warsaw. He was educated at the WarsawConservatory, and his eminent genius for the piano shone at this timemost unmistakably. He found in the piano-forte an exclusive organ forthe expression of his thoughts. In the presence of this confidentialcompanion he forgot his shyness and poured forth his whole soul. A passionate lover of his native country, and burning with thoseaspirations for freedom which have made Poland since its first partitiona volcano ever ready to break forth, the folk-themes of Poland areat the root of all of Chopin's compositions, and in the waltzes andmazurkas bearing his name we find a passionate glow and richness ofcolor which make them musical poems of the highest order. 

Chopin's art position, both as a pianist and composer, was a unique one. He was accustomed to say that the breath of the concert-room stifledhim, whereas Liszt, his intimate friend and fellow-artist, delighted init as a war-horse delights in the tumult of battle. Chopin always shrankfrom the display of his powers as a mere executant. To exhibit histalents to the public was an offense to him, and he only cared for hisremarkable technical skill as a means of placing his fanciful originalpoems in tone rightly before the public. It was with the greatestdifficulty that his intimate friends, Liszt, Meyerbeer, Nourrit, Delacroix, Heine, Mme. George Sand, Countess D'Agoult, and others, couldpersuade him to appear before large mixed audiences. His genius onlyshone unconstrained as a player in the society of a few chosen intimatefriends, with whom he felt a perfect sympathy, artistic, social, andintellectual. Exquisite, fastidious, and refined, Chopin was loss anaristocrat from political causes, or even by virtue of social caste, than from the fact that his art nature, which was delicate, feminine, and sensitive, shrank from all companions except those molded of thefinest clay. We find this sense of exclusiveness and isolation in allof the Chopin music, as in some quaint, fantastic, ideal world, whosemaster would draw us up to his sphere, but never descend to ours. 

In the treatment of the technical means of the piano-forte, he entirelywanders from the old methods. Moscheles, a great pianist in an age ofgreat players, gave it up in despair, and confessed that he could notplay Chopin's music. The latter teaches the fingers to serve his ownartistic uses, without regard to the notions of the schools. It is saidthat M. Kalkbrenner advised Chopin to attend his classes at the ParisConservatoire, that the latter might learn the proper fingering. Chopinanswered his officious adviser by placing one of his own "Études" beforehim, and asking him to play it. The failure of the pompous professorwas ludicrous, for the old-established technique utterly failed to do itjustice. Chopin's end as a player was to faithfully interpret the poetryof his own composition. His genius as a composer taught him to makeinnovations in piano-forte effects. He was thus not only a greatinventor as a composer, but as regards the technique of the piano-forte. He not only told new things well worth hearing which the world would notforget, but devised new ways of saying them, and it mattered but littleto him whether his more forcible and passionate dialectic offended whatSchumann calls musical Philistinism or no. Chopin formed a school of hisown which was purely the outcome of his genius, though as Schumann, inthe extract previously quoted, justly says: "He was molded by thedeep poetic spirit of Beethoven, with whom form only had value as itexpressed truthfully and beautifully symmetry of conception. "

The forms of Chopin's compositions grew out of the keyboard of thepiano, and their _genre_ is so peculiar that it is nearly impracticableto transpose them for any other instrument. Some of the notedcontemporary violinists have attempted to transpose a few of theNocturnes and Études, but without success. Both Schumann and Lisztsucceeded in adapting Paganini's most complex and difficult violin worksfor the piano-forte, but the compositions of Chopin are so essentiallyborn to and of the one instrument that they can not be well suited toany other. The cast of the melody, the matchless beauty and swing of therhythm, his ingenious treatment of harmony, and the chromatic changesand climaxes through which the motives are developed, make up a newchapter in the history of the piano-forte. 

Liszt, in his life of Chopin, says of him: "His character was indeednot easily understood. A thousand subtile shades, mingling, crossing, contradicting, and disguising each other, rendered it almostundecipherable at first view; kind, courteous, affable, and almostof joyous manners, he would not suffer the secret convulsions whichagitated him to be ever suspected. His works, concertos, waltzes, sonatas, ballades, polonaises, mazurkas, nocturnes, scherzi, all reflecta similar enigma in a most poetical and romantic form. "

Chopin's moral nature was not cast in an heroic mold, and he lacked therobust intellectual marrow which is essential to the highest forms ofgenius in art as well as in literature and affairs, though it is notsafe to believe that he was, as painted by George Sand and Liszt, afeeble youth, continually living at death's door in an atmosphere ofmoonshine and sentimentality. But there can be no question that thewhole bent of Chopin's temperament and genius was melancholy, romantic, and poetic, and that frequently he gives us mere musical moods andreveries, instead of well-defined and well-developed ideas. His musicperhaps loses nothing, for, if it misses something of the clear, inspiring, vigorous quality of other great composers, it has a subtile, dreamy, suggestive beauty all its own. 

The personal life of Chopin was singularly interesting. His long andintimate connection with George Sand; the circumstances under which itwas formed; the blissful idyl of the lovers in the isle of Majorca; theawakening from the dream, and the separation--these and other strikingcircumstances growing out of a close association with what was best inParisian art and life, invest the career of the man, aside from his art, with more than common charm to the mind of the reader. Having touchedon these phases of Chopin's life at some length in a previous volume ofthis series, we must reluctantly pass them by. 

In closing this imperfect review of the Polish composer, it is enough tosay that the present generation has more than sustained the judgmentof his own as to the unique and wonderful beauty of his compositions. Hardly any concert programme is considered complete without one or morenumbers selected from his works; and though there are but few pianists, even in a day when Chopin as a stylist has been a study, who can dohis subtile and wonderful fancies justice, there is no composer for thepiano-forte who so fascinates the musical mind. 

THALBERG AND GOTTSCHALK. 

Thalberg one of the Greatest of Executants. --Bather a Man of RemarkableTalents than of Genius. --Moscheles's Description of him. --TheIllegitimate Son of an Austrian Prince. --Early Introduction toMusical Society in London and Vienna. --Beginning of his Career as aVirtuoso. --The Brilliancy of his Career. --Is appointed Court Pianist tothe Emperor of Austria. --His Marriage. --Visits to America. --Thalborg'sArtistic Idiosyncrasy. --Robert Schumann on his Playing. --His Appearanceand Manner. --Characterization by George William Curtis. --Thalberg'sStyle and Worth as an Artist. --His Pianoforte Method, and Place as aComposer for the Piano. --Gott-schalk's Birth and Early Years. --He issent to Paris for Instruction. --Successful _Début_ and PublicConcerts in Paris and Tour through the French Cities. --Friendship withBerlioz. --Concert Tour to Spain. --Romantic Experiences. --Berlioz onGottschalk. --Reception of Gottschalk in America. --Criticism of hisStyle. --Remarkable Success of his Concerts. --His Visit to the WestIndies, Mexico, and Central America. --Protracted Absence. --Gottschalkon Life in the Tropics. --Return to the United States. --Three BrilliantMusical Years. --Departure for South America. --Triumphant Processionthrough the Spanish-American Cities. --Death at Rio Janeiro. --Notes onGottschalk as Man and Artist. 

I. 

One of the most remarkable of the great piano-forte virtuosos wasunquestionably Sigismond Thalberg, an artist who made a profoundsensation in two hemispheres, and filled a large space in the musicalworld for more than forty-five years. Originally a disciple of theViennese school of piano-forte playing, a pupil of Mosche-les, and arigid believer in making the instrument which was the medium of histalent sufficient unto itself, wholly indifferent to the daring andboundless ambition which made his great rival, Franz Liszt, pile Pelionon Ossa in his grasp after new effects, Thalberg developed virtuoso-ismto its extreme degree by a mechanical dexterity which was perhapsunrivaled. But the fingers can not express more than rests in the heartand brain to give to their skill, and Thalberg, with all his immensetalent, seems to have lacked the divine spark of genius. It goes withoutsaying, to those who are familiar with the current cant of criticism, that the word genius is often applied in a very loose and misleadingmanner. But, in all estimates of art and artists, where there are twoclearly defined factors, imagination or formative power and technicaldexterity, it would seem that there should not be any error in decidingon the propriety of such a word as a measure of the quality of anartist's gifts. The lack of the creative impulse could not be mistakenin Thalberg's work, whether as player or composer. But the ability toexecute all that came within the scope of his sympathies or intelligencewas so prodigious that the world was easily dazzled into forgettinghis deficiencies in the loftier regions of art. Trifles are often verysignificant. What, for example, could more vividly portray an artist'stendencies than the description of Thalberg by Moscheles, who knew himmore thoroughly than any other contemporary, and felt a keener sympathywith his _genre_ as an artist than with the more striking originality ofChopin and Liszt. Moscheles writes:

"I find his introduction of harp effects on the piano quite original. His theme, which lies in the middle part, is brought out clearly inrelief with an accompaniment of complicated arpeggios which reminds meof a harp. The audience is amazed. He himself sits immovably calm;his whole bearing as he sits at the piano is soldierlike; his lips aretightly compressed and his coat buttoned closely. He told me he acquiredthis attitude of self-control by smoking a Turkish pipe while practicinghis piano-forte exercises: the length of the tube was so calculated asto keep him erect and motionless. " This exact discipline and mechanismwere not merely matters of technical culture; they were the logicaloutcome of the man and surely a part of himself. But within his limits, fixed as these were, Thalberg was so great that he must be conceded tobe one of the most striking and brilliant figures of an age fecund infine artists. 

Thalberg was born at Geneva, January 7, 1812, and was the natural son ofPrince Dietrichstein, an Austrian nobleman, temporarily resident in thatcity. His talent for music, inherited from both sides, for his motherwas an artist and his father an amateur of no inconsiderable skill, became obvious at a very tender age, following the law which sogenerally holds in music that superior gifts display themselves at anearly period. These indications of nature were not ignored, for the boywas placed under instruction before he had completed his sixth year. Itis a little singular that his first teacher was not a pianist, though avery superior musician. Mittag was one of the first bassoonists ofhis times, and, in addition to his technical skill, a thoroughlyaccomplished man in the science of his profession. Thalberg wasaccustomed to attribute the wonderfully rich and mellow tone whichcharacterized his playing to the influence and training of Mittag. Fromthis instructor the future great pianist passed to the charge of thedistinguished Hummel, who was not only one of the greatest virtuosos ofthe age, but ranked by his admirers as only a little less than Beethovenhimself in his genius for pianoforte compositions, though succeedinggenerations have discredited his former fame by estimating him merelya "dull classic. " Contemporaneously with his pupilage under Hummel, he studied the theory of music with Simon Sechter, an eminentcontrapuntist. Even at this early age, for Thalberg must have beenless than ten years old, he impressed all by the great precision ofhis fingering and the instinctive ease with which he mastered the mostdifficult mechanism of the art of playing. At the age of fourteen youngThalberg went to London in the household of his father, who had beenappointed imperial ambassador to England, and the youth was then placedunder the instruction of the great pianist Moscheles. The latter speaksof Thalberg as the most distinguished of his pupils, and as being, evenat that age, already an artist of distinction and mark. It was a sourceof much pleasure to Moscheles that his brilliant scholar, who playedmuch at private soirées, was not only recognized by the _dilletante_public generally, but by such veteran artists as Clementi and Cramer. Moscheles, in his diary, speaks of the wonderful brilliancy of a grandfancy dress ball given by Thalberg's princely father at Covent GardenTheatre. Pit, stalls, and proscenium were formed into one grand room, in which the crowd promenaded. The costumes were of every conceivablevariety, and many of the most gorgeous description. The spectators, infull dress, sat in the boxes; on the stage was a court box, occupied bythe royal family; and bands played in rooms adjoining for small partiesof dancers. "You will have some idea, " wrote Mme. Moscheles, in aletter, "of the crowd at this ball, when I tell you that we left theballroom at two o'clock and did not get to the prince's carriage tillfour. " One of the interesting features of this ball was that theboy Thalberg played in one of the smaller rooms before the mostdistinguished people present, including the royal family, all crowdingin to hear the youthful virtuoso, whose tacit recognition by his fatherhad already opened to him the most brilliant drawing-rooms in London. 

Thalberg did not immediately begin to perform in public, but, onreturning to Vienna in 1827, played continually at private soirées, where he had the advantage of being heard and criticised by the foremostamateurs and musicians of the Austrian capital. It had some time sincebecome obvious to the initiated that another great player was about tobe launched on his career. The following year the young artist tried hishand at composition, for he published variations on themes from Weber's"Euryanthe, " which were well received. Thalberg in after-years spoke ofall his youthful productions with disdain, but his early works displayednot a little of the brilliant style of treatment which subsequently gavehis fantasias a special place among compositions for the piano-forte. 

It was not till 1830 that young Thalberg fairly began his career asa traveling player. The cities of Germany received him with the most_éclatant_ admiration, and his feats of skill as a performer weretrumpeted by the newspapers and musical journals as somethingunprecedented in the art of pianism. From Germany Thalberg proceeded toFrance and England, and his audiences were no less pronounced in theirrecognition. Liszt had already been before him in Paris, and Chopinarrived about the same time. Kalkbrenner, Ferdinand Hiller, andField were playing, but the splendid, calm beauty of Thalberg's styleinstantly captivated the public, and elicited the most extravagantand delighted applause not only from the public, but from enlightenedconnoisseurs. 

To follow the course of Thalberg's pianoforte achievements in hismusical travels through Europe would be merely to repeat a record ofuninterrupted successes. He disarmed envy and criticism everywhere, andeven those disposed to withhold a frank and generous acknowledgment ofhis greatness did not dare to question powers of execution whichseemed without a technical flaw. During his travels Thalberg composeda concerto for piano and orchestra, to play at his concerts. But thisspecies of composition was so obviously unsuited to his abilities thathe quickly forsook it, and thenceforward devoted his efforts exclusivelyto the instrument of which he was such an eminent master. A moreextensive ambition had been rebuked in more ways than one. He composedtwo operas, "Fiorinda" and "Christine, " and of course easily yielded tothe entreaties of his admirers to have them produced. But it was clearlyevident that his musical idiosyncrasy, though magnificent of its kind, was limited in range, and after the failure of his operas and attemptsat orchestral writing Thalberg calmly accepted the situation. 

In the year 1834 Thalberg was appointed pianist of the Imperial Chamberto the court of Austria, and accompanied the Emperor Ferdinand toToplitz, where a convocation of the European sovereigns took place. Hisperformances were warmly received by the assembled monarchs, and he wasoverwhelmed with presents and congratulations. Thalberg's way throughoutthe whole of his life was strewn with roses, and, though his career didnot present the same romantic incidents which make the life of FranzLiszt so picturesque, it was attended by the same lavish favors offortune. From one patron he received the gift of a fine estate, fromanother a magnificent city mansion in Vienna, and testimonials, likesnuff-boxes set with diamonds, jeweled court-swords, superbly setportraits of his royal and imperial patrons, and costly jewelry, pouredin on him continually. Imperial orders from Austria and Russia werebestowed on him, and hardly any mark of favor was denied him by thatgood fortune which had been auspicious to him from his very birth. In1845, while still in the service of the Austrian emperor, though he didnot intermit his musical tours through the principal European cities, Thalberg married the charming widow, whom he had known and admiredbefore her marriage, the daughter of the great singer Lablache, Mme. Bouchot, whose first husband had been the distinguished French painterof that name. The marriage was a happy one, though scandal, which lovesto busy itself about the affairs of musical celebrities, did not failto associate Thalberg's name with several of the most beautiful women ofhis time. Mile. Thalberg, a daughter of this marriage, made her _début_with considerable success in London, in 1874. 

Thalberg's first visit to America was in 1853, and he came again in1857, to more than repeat the enthusiastic reception with which he wasgreeted by music-loving Americans. Musical culture at that time had notattained the refinement and knowledge which now make an audience inone of our greater cities as fastidious and intelligent as can be foundanywhere in the world. But Thalberg's wonderful playing, though lackingin the fire, glow, and impetuosity which would naturally most arouse theless cultivated musical sense, created a _furore_, which has never beenmatched since, among those who specially prided themselves on being goodjudges. He extended both tours to Cuba, Mexico, and South America, andit is said took away with him larger gains than he had ever made duringthe same period in Europe. 

During the latter years of Thalberg's life he spent much of his timein elegant ease at his fine country estate near Naples, only givingconcerts at some few of the largest European capitals, like London andParis. He became an enthusiastic wine-grower, and wine from his estategained a medal at the Exposition Universelle of 1867. Many of his bestpiano-forte compositions date from the period when he had given up theactive pursuit of virtuosoism. His works comprise a concerto, threesonatas, many nocturnes, rondos, and études, about thirty fantasias, twooperas, and an instruction series, which latter has been adopted by manyof the best teachers, and has been the means of forming a number of ablepupils. This fine artist died at his Neapolitan estate, April 27, 1871. 

II. 

Thalberg had but little sympathy with the dreamy romanticism whichfound such splendid exponents, while he was yet in his early youth, in Schumann, Chopin, and Liszt. Imagination in its higher functions heseemed to lack. A certain opulence and picturesqueness of fancy unitedin his artistic being with an intelligence both lucid and penetrating, and a sense of form and symmetry almost Greek in its fastidiousness. Thesweet, vague, passionate aspiration^, the sensibility that quiverswith every breath of movement from the external world, he could notunderstand. Placidity, grace, and repose he had in perfection. Yet hewas very highly appreciated by those who had little in common with hisartistic nature. As, for example, Robert Schumann writes of Thalberg andhis playing, on the occasion of a charity concert, given in Leipzig in1841: "In his passing flight the master's pinions rested here awhile, and, as from the angel's pinions in one of Rucker's poems, rubies andother precious stones fell from them and into indigent hands, as themaster ordained it. It is difficult to say anything new of one who hasbeen so praise beshow-ered as he has. But every earnest virtuoso is gladto hear one thing said at any time--that he has progressed in hisart since he last delighted us. This best of all praise we areconscientiously able to bestow on Thalberg; for, during the last twoyears that we have not heard him, he has made astonishing additions tohis acquirements, and, if possible, moves with greater boldness, grace, and freedom than ever. His playing seemed to have the same effect onevery one, and the delight that he probably feels in it himself wasshared by all. True virtuosity gives us something more than mereflexibility and execution: aman may mirror his own nature in it, and inThalberg's playing it becomes clear to all that he is one of the favoredones of fortune, one accustomed to wealth and elegance. Accompaniedby happiness, bestowing pleasure, he commenced his career; under suchcircumstances he has so far pursued it, and so he will probably continueit. The whole of yesterday evening and every number that he played gaveus a proof of this. The public did not seem to be there to judge, butonly to enjoy; they were as certain of enjoyment as the master was ofhis art. "

Thalberg in his appearance had none of the traditional wildpicturesqueness of style and manner which so many distinguished artists, even Liszt himself, have thought it worth while to carry perhaps tothe degree of affectation. Smoothly shaven, quiet, eminentlyrespectable-looking, his handsome, somewhat Jewish-looking face composedin an expression of unostentatious good breeding, he was wont toseat himself at the piano with all the simplicity of one doing anycommonplace thing. He had the air of one who respected himself, his art, and the public. His performance was in an exquisitely artistic sensethat of the gentleman, perfect, polished, and elaborately wrought. Thedistinguished American litterateur, Mr. George William Curtis, who heardhim in New York in 1857, thus wrote of him: "He is a proper artist inthis, that he comprehends the character of his instrument. He neithertreats it as a violoncello nor a full orchestra. Those who in privatehave enjoyed the pleasure of hearing--or, to use a more accurateepithet, of seeing--Strepitoso, that friend of mankind, play the piano, will understand what we mean when we speak of treating the piano as ifit were an orchestra. Strepitoso storms and slams along the keyboarduntil the tortured instrument gives up its musical soul in despairand breaks its heart of melody by cracking all its strings. . . . Everyinstrument has its limitations, but Strepitoso will tolerate no suchtheory. He extracts music from his piano, not as if he were sifting thesands for gold, but as if he were raking oysters. . . . Now, Thalberg'smanner is different from Strepitoso's. He plays the piano; that is thephrase which describes his performance. He plays it quietly and suavely. You could sit upon the lawn on a June night and hear with delightthe sounds that trickled through the moonlight from the piano of thismaster. They would not melt your soul in you; they would not touch thoselongings that, like rays of starry light, respond to the rays of thestars; they would not storm your heart with the yearning passionof their strains, but you would confess it was a good world as youlistened, and be glad you lived in it--you would be glad of your homeand all that made it homelike; the moonlight as you listened would meltand change, and your smiling eyes would seem to glitter in cheerfulsunlight as Thalberg ended. "

Thalberg's style was, perhaps, the best possible illustration of thelegitimate effects of the pianoforte carried to the highest by asperfect a technique as could possibly be attained by human skill. 

That he lacked poetic fire and passion, that the sense of artisticrestraint and a refined fastidiousness chilled and fettered him, isdoubtlessly true. Whether the absence of the imaginative warmth andvigor which suffuse a work of art with the glow of something that cannot be fully expressed, and kindle the thoughts of the hearer to takehitherto unknown flights, is fully compensated for by that repose andsymmetry of style which know exactly what it wishes to express, and, being perfect master of the means of expression, puts forth an exactmeasure of effort and then stops as if shut down by an iron wall--thisis an open question, and must be answered according to one's arttheories. The exquisite modeling of a Benvenuto Cellini vase, wroughtwith patient elaboration into a thing of unsurpassable beauty, does notinvoke as high a sense of pleasure as an heroic statue or noble paintingby some great master, but of its kind the pleasure is just as complete. Apart from Thalberg's power as a player, however, there was somethingcaptivating in the quality of his talent, which, though not creative, was gifted with the power of seizing the very essence of the music tobe interpreted. A striking example of this is shown in the fantasias hecomposed on the different operas, a form of writing which reached itsperfection in him. His own contribution is simply a most delightfulsetting of the melodies of his subject, and the whole is steeped in thevery atmosphere and feeling of the original, as if the master himselfhad done the work. 

A good example is the fantasia on Mozart's "Don Giovanni. " The little, wild, unformed melodies rustle in quick gusts along the keys as ifwavering shadows, yet with all the familiar rhythm and family likeness, filling the mind of the hearer with the atmosphere and necessity of whatis to follow, while gradually the full harmonies unfold themselves. Theintroduction of the minuet is one of the most striking portions. Thescene of the minuet in the opera is a vision of rural loveliness andrepose, whispering of flowers, fields, and happy flying hours. All thisbecomes poetized, and the music seems to imply rich reaches of odorousgarden and moonlight, whispering foliage, and nightingales mad with thedelight of their own singing, and a palace on the lawn sounding withriotous mirth. The player-composer weaves the glamour of such a dream, and the hearer finds himself strolling in imagination through themoonlit garden, listening to the birds, the waters, and the rustlingleaves, while the stately beat of the minuet comes throbbing throughit all, calling up the vision of gayly dressed cavaliers and beautifulladies fantastically moving to the tune. Such poetic sentiment asthis of the purely picturesque sort was in large measure Thalberg'spossession, but he could never understand that turbulent ground-swell ofpassion which music can also powerfully express, and by which thesoul is lifted up to the heights of ecstasy or plunged in depths ofmelancholy. Music as a vehicle for such meanings was mere Egyptianhieroglyphic, utterly beyond his limitation, absolute bathos andabsurdity. 

It is doubtful whether any player ever possessed a more wonderfullytrained mechanism; the smallest details were polished and finished withthe utmost care, the scales marvels of evenness, the shakes rivaling thetrill of a canary bird. His arpeggios at times rolled like the wavesof the sea, and at others resembled folds of transparent lace floatingairily with the movements of the wearer. The octaves were wonderfullyaccurate, and the chords appeared to be struck by steel mallets insteadof fingers. He was called the Bayard of pianists, "le Chevalier sanspeur et sans reproche. " His tone was noble, yet mellow and delicate, andthe gradations between his forte and piano were traced most exquisitely. In a word, technical execution could go no further. It is said thathe never played a piece in public till he had absolutely made it theproperty of his fingers. He was the first to divide the melody betweenthe two hands, making the right hand perform a brilliant figure in thehigher register, while the left hand exhibited a full and rich basspart, supplementing it with an accompaniment in chords. It was thischaracteristic which made his fantasias so unique and interesting, inspite of their lack of originality of motive, as compositions. Almostall writers for the piano have since adopted this device, even the greatMendelssohn using it in some of his concertos and "Songs without Words";and in many cases it has been transformed into a mere trick of arrantmusical charlatanism, designed to cover up with a sham glitter the utterabsence of thought and motive. No better suggestion of the dominantcharacteristic of Thal-berg as a pianist can be found than a criticalword of his friend Moscheles: "The proper ground for finger gymnasticsis to be found in Thalberg's latest compositions; for mind [Geist], giveme Schumann. "

III. 

During Thalberg's first visit to America he had an active and dangerousrival in the young and brilliant pianist, Louis Moreau Gottschalk, who was as fresh to New York audiences as Thalberg himself, though thelatter had the advantage over his young competitor in a fame whichwas almost world-wide. Of American pianists Louis Gottschalk standsconfessedly at the head by virtue of remarkable native gifts, which, hadthey been assisted by greater industry and ambition, might easily havewon him a very eminent rank in Europe as well as in his own country. Aneasy, pleasure-loving, tropical nature, flexible, facile, and disposedto sacrifice the future to the present, was the only obstacle to theattainment to a place level with the foremost artists of his age. 

Edward Gottschalk, who came to America in his young manhood and settledin New Orleans, and his wife, a French Creole lady, had five children, of whom the future pianist was the eldest, born in 1829. His feeling formusic manifested itself when he was three years old by his ability toplay a melody on the piano which he had heard. Instantly he was strongenough, he was placed under the instruction of a good teacher, and nopains were spared to develop his precocious talent. At the age of six hehad made such progress on the piano that he was also instructed onthe violin, and soon was able to play pieces of more than ordinarydifficulty with taste and expression. We are told that the lad gavea benefit concert at the age of eight to assist an unfortunateviolin-player, with considerable success, and was soon in great requestat evening parties as a child phenomenon. The propriety of sendingthe little Louis to Paris had long been discussed, and it was finallyaccomplished in 1842. 

On reaching Paris he was first put under the teaching of Charles Halle, but, as the latter master was a little careless, he was replaced by M. Camille Stamaty, who had the reputation of being the ablest professorin the city. The following year he began the study of harmony andcounterpoint with M. Malidan, and the rapid progress he evinced in hisstudies was of a kind to justify his parents in their wish to devote himto the career of a pianist. 

Young Louis Gottschalk was much petted in the aristocratic salons ofParis, to which he had admission through his aunts, the Comtesse deLagrange and the Comtesse de Bourjally. His remarkable musical gifts, and more especially his talent for improvisation, excited curiosity andadmiration, even in a city where the love of musical novelty had beensated by a continual supply of art prodigies. Young as he was, he wroteat this time not a few charming compositions, which were in after-yearsoccasional features of his concerts. His delicate constitution succumbedunder hard work, and for a while a severe attack of typhoid feverinterrupted his studies. On his recovery, our young artist spent a fewmonths in the Ardennes. On returning to Paris, he became the pupil ofHector Berlioz, who felt a deep interest in the young American, as anart prodigy from a land of savages in harmony, and devoted himself soassiduously to the study that he declined an invitation from the Spanishqueen to become a guest of the court at Madrid. 

An amusing incident occurred in a pedestrian trip which he made to theVosges in 1846. He had forgotten his passport, and, on arriving at asmall town, was arrested by a gendarme and taken before the maire. Thelatter official was reading a newspaper containing a notice of his lastconcert, and through this means he assured the worthy functionary of hisidentity, and was cordially welcomed to the hospitality of the officialresidence. 

His friend Berlioz, who was ever on the alert to help the American pupilwho promised to do him so much credit, arranged a series of concertsfor him at the Italian Opéra in the winter of 1846-'47, and these provedbrilliantly successful, not merely in filling the young artist's purse, but in augmenting his fast-growing reputation. Steady labor in study andconcert-giving, many of his public performances being for charity, madetwo years pass swiftly by. A musical tour through France in 1849 washighly successful, and the young American returned to Paris, loadeddown with gifts, and rich in the sense of having justly earned thecongratulations which showered on him from all his friends. A secondinvitation now came from Spain, and Louis Gottschalk on arriving atMadrid was made a guest at the royal palace. From the king he receivedtwo orders, the diamond cross of Isabella la Catholique and that ofLeon d'Holstein, and from the Duke de Montpensier he received a sword ofhonor. We are told that at one of the private court concerts Gottschalkplayed a duet with Don Carlos, the father of the recent pretender to theSpanish throne. 

Among the romantic incidents narrated of this visit of Gottschalk toMadrid, one is too characteristic to be overlooked, as showing thetender, generous nature of the artist. An imaginative Spanish girl, whose fancy had been excited by the public enthusiasm about Gottschalk, but was too ill to attend his concerts, had a passionate desire to hearhim play, and pined away in the fret-fulness of ungratified desire. Herfamily were not able to pay Gottschalk for the trouble of giving such anexclusive concert, but, to satisfy the sick girl, made the circumstancesknown to the artist. Gottschalk did not hesitate a moment, but orderedhis piano to be conveyed to the humble abode of the patient. Here by herbedside he played for hours to the enraptured girl, and the strain ofemotion was so great that her life ebbed away before he had finished thefinal chords. Gottschalk remained in Spain for two years, and it was nottill the autumn of 1852 that he returned to Paris, to give a series offarewell concerts before returning again to America, where his fatherand brothers were anxiously awaiting him. 

IV. 

Before Gottschalk's departure from Paris, Hector Berlioz thus wrote ofhis _protégé_, for whom we may fancy he had a strong bias of liking; andno judge is so generous in estimation as one artist of another, unlessthe critic has personal cause of dislike, and then no judge is sosweepingly unjust: "Gottschalk is one of the very small number whopossess all the different elements of a consummate pianist, all thefaculties which surround him with an irresistible prestige, and give hima sovereign power. He is an accomplished musician; he knows just how farfancy may be indulged in expression. He knows the limits beyond whichany freedom taken with the rhythm produces only confusion and disorder, and upon these limits he never encroaches. There is an exquisite gracein his manner of phrasing sweet melodies and throwing off light touchesfrom the higher keys. The boldness, brilliancy, and originality of hisplay at once dazzle and astonish, and the infantile _naivete_ of hissmiling caprices, the charming simplicity with which he renders simplethings, seem to belong to another individuality, distinct from thatwhich marks his thundering energy. Thus the success of M. Gottschalkbefore an audience of musical cultivation is immense. "

But even this enthusiastic praise was pale in comparison with theeulogiums of some of the New York journals, after the first concert ofGottschalk at Niblo's Garden Theatre. One newspaper, which arrogatedspecial strength and good judgment in its critical departments, intimated that after such a revelation it was useless any longer tospeak of Beethoven! Whether Beethoven as a player or Beethoven as acomposer was meant was left unknown. Gottschalk at his earlier concertsplayed many of his own compositions, made to order for the displayof his virtuosoism, and their brilliant, showy style was very wellcalculated to arouse the enthusiasm of the general public. Perhaps themost sound and thoughtful opinion of Gottschalk expressed during thefirst enthusiasm created by his playing was that of a well-known musicaljournal published in Boston:

"Well, at the concert, which, by the way, did not half fill the BostonMusic Hall, owing partly, we believe, to the one-dollar price, andpartly, we _hope_, to distrust of an artist who plays wholly his owncompositions, our expectation was confirmed. There was, indeed, mostbrilliant execution; we have heard none more brilliant, but are not yetprepared to say that Jaell's was less so. Gottschalk's touch is the mostclear and crisp and beautiful that we have ever known. His play isfree and bold and sure, and graceful in the extreme; his runs pure andliquid; his figures always clean and perfectly denned; his command ofrapid octave passages prodigious; and so we might go through with allthe technical points of masterly execution. It _was_ great execution. But what is execution, without some thought and meaning in thecombinations to be executed?. . . Skillful, graceful, brilliant, wonderful, we own his playing was. But players less wonderful have givenus far deeper satisfaction. We have seen a criticism upon that concert, in which it was regretted that his music was too fine for commonapprehension, 'too much addressed to the _reasoning_ faculties, ' etc. To us the want was, that it did _not_ address the reason; that it seemedempty of ideas, of inspiration; that it spake little to the mind orheart, excited neither meditation nor emotion, but simply dazzled by thedisplay of difficult feats gracefully and easily achieved. But ofwhat use were all these difficulties? ('Difficult! I wish it was_impossible_, ' said Dr. Johnson. ) Why all that rapid tossing of handfulsof chords from the middle to the highest octaves, lifting the hand withsuch conscious appeal to our eyes? To what end all those rapid octavepassages? since in the intervals of easy execution, in the seeminglyquiet impromptu passages, the music grew so monotonous and commonplace:the same little figure repeated and repeated, after listless pauses, ina way which conveyed no meaning, no sense of musical progress, but onlythe appearance of fastidiously critical scale-practicing. "

In the series of concerts given by Gottschalk throughout the UnitedStates, the public generally showed great enthusiasm and admiration, and the young pianist sustained himself very successfully against thememories of Jaell, Henri Herz, and Leopold de Meyer, as well as theimmediate rivalry of Thalberg, who appealed more potently to a selectfew. The hold the American pianist had secured on his public did notlessen during the five years of concert-giving which succeeded. Noplayer ever displayed his skill before American audiences who had in solarge degree that peculiar quality of geniality in his style which soendears him to the public. This characteristic is something apart fromgenius or technical skill, and is peculiarly an emanation from thepersonality of the man. 

In the spring of 1837 Gottschalk found himself in Havana, whither he hadgone to make the beginning of a musical tour through the West Indies. His first concert was given at the Tacon Theatre, which Mr. Maretzek, who was giving operatic representations then in Havana, yielded tohim for the occasion. The Cubans gave the pianist a tropical warmth ofwelcome, and Gott-schalk's letters from the old Spanish city are fullof admiration for the climate, the life, and the people, with whom therewas something strongly sympathetic in his own nature. The artist had notdesigned to protract his musical wanderings in the beautiful island ofthe Antilles for any considerable period, but his success was great, and the new experiences admirably suited his dreaming, sensuous, pleasure-loving temperament. Everywhere the advent of Gottschalk ata town was made the occasion of a festival, and life seemed to be onecontinued gala-day with him. 

V. 

In the early months of 1860 the young pianist, Arthur Napoleon, joinedGottschalk at Havana, and the two gave concerts throughout the WestIndies, which were highly successful. The early summer had been designedfor a tour through Central America and Venezuela, but a severe attack ofillness prostrated Gottschalk, and he was not able to sail before Augustfor his new field of musical conquest. Our artist did not return to NewYork till 1862, after an absence of five years, though his original planhad only contemplated a tour of two years. It must not be supposed thatGottschalk devoted his time continually to concert performances andcomposition, though he by no means neglected the requirements ofmusical labor. As he himself confesses, the balmy climate, the gloriouslandscapes, the languid _dolce far niente_, which tended to enervateall that came under their magic spell, wrought on his susceptibletemperament with peculiar effect. A quotation from an article written byGottschalk, and published in the "Atlantic Monthly, " entitled "Notes ofa Pianist, " will furnish the reader a graphic idea of the influenceof tropical life on such an imaginative and voluptuous character, passionately fond of nature and outdoor life: "Thus, in succession, Ihave visited all the Antilles--Spanish, French, English, Dutch, Swedish, and Danish; the Guianas, and the coasts of Para. At times, having becomethe idol of some obscure _pueblo_, whose untutored ears I had charmedwith its own simple ballads, I would pitch my tent for five, six, eightmonths, deferring my departure from day to day, until finally I beganseriously to entertain the idea of remaining there for evermore. Abandoning myself to such influences, I lived without care, as the birdsings, as the flower expands, as the brook flows, oblivious of the past, reckless of the future, and sowed both my heart and my purse with theardor of a husbandman who hopes to reap a hundred ears for every grainhe confides to the earth. But, alas! the fields where is garnered theharvest of expended doubloons, and where vernal loves bloom anew, areyet to be discovered; and the result of my prodigality was that, onefine morning, I found myself a bankrupt in heart, with my purseat ebb-tide. Suddenly disgusted with the world and myself, weary, discouraged, mistrusting men (ay, and women too), I fled to a desert onthe extinct volcano of M------, where, for several months, I lived thelife of a cenobite, with no companion but a poor lunatic whom I had meton a small island, and who had attached himself to me. He followed meeverywhere, and loved me with that absurd and touching constancy ofwhich dogs and madmen alone are capable. My friend, whose insanity wasof a mild and harmless character, fancied himself the greatest genius inthe world. He was, moreover, under the impression that he suffered froma gigantic, monstrous tooth. Of the two idiosyncrasies, the latter alonemade his lunacy discernible, too many individuals being affected withthe other symptom to render it an anomalous feature of the human mind. My friend was in the habit of protesting that this enormous toothincreased periodically, and threatened to encroach upon his entire jaw. Tormented, at the same time, with the desire of regenerating humanity, he divided his leisure between the study of dentistry, to which heapplied himself in order to impede the progress of his hypotheticaltyrant, and a voluminous correspondence which he kept up with the Pope, his brother, and the Emperor of the French, his cousin. In the latteroccupation he pleaded the interests of humanity, styled himself 'thePrince of Thought, ' and exalted me to the dignity of his illustriousfriend and benefactor. In the midst of the wreck of his intellect, onething still survived--his love of music. He played the violin; and, strange as it may appear, although insane, he could not understand theso-called _music of the future_. 

"My hut, perched on the verge of the crater, at the very summit of themountain, commanded a view of all the surrounding country. The rockupon which it was built projected over a precipice whose abysses wereconcealed by creeping plants, cactus, and bamboos. The speciesof table-rock thus formed had been encircled with a railing, andtransformed into a terrace on a level with the sleeping-room, by mypredecessor in this hermitage. His last wish had been to be buriedthere; and from my bed I could see his white tombstone gleaming in themoonlight a few steps from my window. Every evening I rolled my pianoout upon the terrace; and there, facing the most incomparably beautifullandscape, all bathed in the soft and limpid atmosphere of the tropics, I poured forth on the instrument, and for myself alone, the thoughtswith which the scene inspired me. And what a scene! Picture to yourselfa gigantic amphitheatre hewn out of the mountains by an army of Titans;right and left, immense virgin forests full of those subdued and distantharmonies which are, as it were, the voices of Silence; before me, a prospect of twenty leagues marvelously enhanced by the extremetransparency of the air; above, the azure of the sky: beneath, thecreviced sides of the mountain sweeping down to the plain; afar, thewaving savannas; beyond them, a grayish speck (the distant city); and, encompassing them all, the immensity of the ocean closing the horizonwith its deep-blue line. Behind me was a rock on which a torrent ofmelted snow dashed its white foam, and there, diverted from its course, rushed with a mad leap and plunged headlong into the gulf that yawnedbeneath my window. 

"Amid such scenes I composed 'Réponds-moi la Marche des Gibaros, ''Polonia, ' 'Columbia, ' 'Pastorella e Cavalière, ' 'Jeunesse, ' and manyother unpublished works. I allowed my fingers to run over the keys, wrapped up in the contemplation of these wonders; while my poor friend, whom I heeded but little, revealed to me with a childish loquacity thelofty destiny he held in reserve for humanity. Can you conceive thecontrast produced by this shattered intellect expressing at random itsdisjointed thoughts, as a disordered clock strikes by chance anyhour, and the majestic serenity of the scene around me? I felt itinstinctively. My misanthropy gave way. I became indulgent toward myselfand mankind, and the wounds of my heart closed once more. My despair wassoothed; and soon the sun of the tropics, which tinges all things withgold--dreams as well as fruits--restored me with new confidence andvigor to my wanderings. 

"I relapsed into the manners and life of these primitive countries:if not strictly virtuous, they are at all events terribly attractive. Existence in a tropical wilderness, in the midst of a voluptuous andhalf-civilized race, bears no resemblance to that of a London cockney, aParisian lounger, or an American Quaker. Times there were, indeed, whena voice was heard within me that spoke of nobler aims. It reminded meof what I once was, of what I yet might be; and commanded imperatively areturn to a healthier and more active life. But I had allowed myself tobe enervated by this baneful languor, this insidious _far niente_; andmy moral torpor was such that the mere thought of reappearing beforea polished audience struck me as superlatively absurd. 'Where was theobject?' I would ask myself. Moreover, it was too late; and I went ondreaming with open eyes, careering on horseback through the savannas, listening at break of day to the prattle of the parrots in theguava-trees, at nightfall to the chirp of the _grillos_ in thecane-fields, or else smoking my cigar, taking my coffee, rocking myselfin a hammock--in short, enjoying all the delights that are the veryheart-blood of a _guajiro_, and out of the sphere of which he can seebut death, or, what is worse to him, the feverish agitation of ourNorthern society. Go and talk of the funds, of the landed interest, ofstock-jobbing, to this Sybarite lord of the wilderness, who can live allthe year round on luscious bananas and delicious cocoa-nuts which heis not even at the trouble of planting; who has the best tobacco inthe world to smoke; who replaces today the horse he had yesterday by abetter one, chosen from the first _calallada_ he meets; who requires nofurther protection from the cold than a pair of linen trousers, in thatfavored clime where the seasons roll on in one perennial summer; who, more than all this, finds at eve, under the rustling palm-trees, pensivebeauties, eager to reward with their smiles the one who murmurs in theirears those three words, ever new, ever beautiful, 'Yo te quiero. '"

VI. 

Mr. Gottschalk's return to America in February, 1862, was celebrated bya concert in Irving Hall, on the anniversary of his _début_ in New York. This was the beginning of another brilliant musical series, in pursuanceof which he appeared in every prominent city of the country. Whilemany found fault with Gottschalk for descending to pure "claptrap" andbravura playing, for using his great powers to merely superficial andunworthy ends, he seemed to retain as great a hold as ever over themasses of concert-goers. Gottschalk himself, with his epicurean, easy-going nature, laughed at the lectures read him by the critics andconnoisseurs, who would have him follow out ideals for which he had notaste. It was like asking the butterfly to live the life of the bee. Great as were the gifts of the artist, it was not to be expected thatthese would be pursued in lines not consistent with the limitationsof his temperament. Gottschalk appears to have had no desire except toamuse and delight the world, and to have been foreign to any loftiermusical aspiration, if we may judge by his own recorded words. He passedthrough life as would a splendid wild singing-bird, making musicbecause it was the law of his being, but never directing that talentwith conscious energy to some purpose beyond itself. 

In 1863 family misfortunes and severe illness of himself cooperated tomake the year vacant of musical doings, but instantly he recovered hewas engaged by M. Strakosch to give another series of concerts in theleading Eastern cities. Without attempting to linger over his career forthe next two years, let us pass to his second expedition to the tropicsin 1865. Four years were spent in South America, each country that hevisited vieing with the other in doing him honor. Magnificent gifts wereheaped on him by his enthusiastic Spanish-American admirers, and lifewas one continual ovation. In Peru he gave sixty concerts, and waspresented with a costly decoration of gold, diamond, and pearl. In Chilithe Government voted him a grand gold medal, which the board of publicschools, the board of visitors of the hospitals, and the municipalgovernment of Valparaiso supplemented by gold medals, in recognitionof Gottschalk's munificence in the benefit concerts he gave for variouspublic and humane institutions. The American pianist, through the wholeof his career, had shown the traditional benevolence of his class inoffering his services to the advancement of worthy objects. A similarreception awaited Gottschalk in Montevideo, where the artist becamedoubly the object of admiration by the substantial additions he madeto the popular educational fund. While in this city he organized andconducted a great musical festival in which three hundred musiciansengaged, exclusive of the Italian Opera company then at Montevideo. 

The spring of 1869 brought Gottschalk to the last scene of his musicaltriumphs, for the span of his career was about to close over him. RioJaneiro, the capital of Brazil, gave Gottschalk an ardent reception, which made this city properly the culmination of his toils and triumphs. Gottschalk wrote that his performances created such a _furore_ thatboxes commanded a premium of seventy-five dollars, and single seatsfetched twenty-five. He was frequently entertained by Dom Pedro at thepalace; in every way the Brazilians testified their lavish admiration ofhis artistic talents. In the midst of his success Gottschalk was seizedwith yellow fever, and brought very low. Indeed, the report came backto New York that he was dead, a report, however, which his own letters, written from the bed of convalescence, soon contradicted. 

In October of 1869 Gottschalk was appointed by the emperor to take theleadership of a great festival, in which eight hundred performers inorchestra and chorus would take part. Indefatigable labor, in rehearsinghis musicians and organizing the almost innumerable details of such anaffair, acted on a frame which had not yet recovered its strength from asevere attack of illness. With difficulty he dragged himself through thetedious preparation, and when he stood up to conduct the first concertof the festival, on the evening of November 26, he was so weak that hecould scarcely stand. The next day he was too ill to rise, and, thoughhe forced himself to go to the opera-house in the evening, he was soweak as to be unable to conduct the music, and he had to be driven backto his hotel. The best medical skill watched over him, but his hour hadcome, and after three weeks of severe suffering he died, December 18, 1869. The funeral solemnities at the Cathedral of Rio were of the mostimposing character, and all the indications of really heart-felt sorrowwere shown among the vast crowd of spectators, for Gottschalk hadquickly endeared himself to the public both as man and artist. At thetime of Gott-schalk's death, it was his purpose to set sail for Europeat the earliest practicable moment, to secure the publication of some ofhis more important works, and the production of his operas, of which hehad the finished scores of not less than six. 

Louis Moreau Gottschalk was an artist and composer whose gifts werenever more than half developed; for his native genius as a musician wasof the highest order. Shortly before he died, at the age of forty, heseemed to have ripened into more earnest views and purposes, and, hadhe lived to fulfill his prime, it is reasonable to hazard the conjecturethat he would have richly earned a far loftier niche in the pantheonof music than can now be given him. A rich, pleasure-loving, Orientaltemperament, which tended to pour itself forth in dreams instead ofaction; vivid emotional sensibilities, which enabled him to exhaustall the resources of pleasure where imagination stimulates sense; anda thorough optimism in his theories, which saw everything at its best, tended to blunt the keen ambition which would otherwise inevitably havestirred the possessor of such artistic gifts. Gottschalk fell far shortof his possibilities, though he was the greatest piano executant everproduced by our own country. He might have dazzled the world even as hedazzled his own partial countrymen. 

His style as a pianist was sparkling, dashing, showy, but, in thejudgment of the most judicious, he did not appear to good advantage incomparison with Thalberg, in whom a perfect technique was dominated bya conscious intellectualism, and a high ideal, passionless but severelybeautiful. 

Gottschalk's idiosyncrasy as a composer ran in parallel lines withthat of the player. Most of the works of this musician are brilliant, charming, tender, melodious, full of captivating excellence, butbright with the flash of fancy, rather than strong with the powerof imagination. We do not find in his piano-forte pieces any of thatsubtile soul-searching force which penetrates to the deepest rootsof thought and feeling. Sundry musical cynics were wont to crushGottschalk's individuality into the coffin of a single epigram. "Amusical bonbon to tickle the palates of sentimental women. " But thisfalls as far short of justice as the enthusiasm of many of his admirersoverreaches it. The easy and genial temperament of the man, his abilityto seize the things of life on their bright side, and a naive indolencewhich indisposed the artist to grapple with the severest obligations ofan art life, prevented Gottschalk from attaining the greatness possibleto him, but they contributed to make him singularly lovable, and tojustify the passionate attachment which he inspired in most of thosewho knew him well. But, with all of Gottschalk's limitations, he mustbe considered the most noticeable and able of pianists and composers forthe piano yet produced by the United States. 

FRANZ LISZT. 

The Spoiled Favorite of Fortune. --His Inherited Genius. --Birth andEarly Training. --First Appearance in Concert. --Adam Liszt and his Sonin Paris. --Sensation made by the Boy's Playing. --His Morbid ReligiousSufferings. --Franz Liszt thrown on his own Resources. --The ArtisticCircle in Paris. --Liszt in the Banks of Romanticism. --His Friends andAssociates. --Mme. D'Agoult and her Connection with FranzLiszt. --He retires to Geneva. --Is recalled to Paris by the Thalberg_Furore_. --Rivalry between the Artists, and their Factions. --Hecommences his Career as Traveling Virtuoso. --The Blaze of Enthusiasmthroughout Europe. --Schumann on Liszt as Man and Artist. --He ranks theHungarian Virtuoso as the Superior of Thalberg. --Liszt's Generosity tohis own Countrymen. --The Honors paid to him in Pesth. --Incidents ofhis Musical Wanderings. --He loses the Proceeds of Three HundredConcerts. --Contributes to the Completion of the Cologne Cathedral. --HisConnection with the Beethoven Statue at Bonn, and the Celebration ofthe Unveiling. --Chorley on Liszt. --Berlioz and Liszt. --Character of theEnthusiasm called out by Liszt as an Artist. --Remarkable Personalityas a Man. --Berlioz characterizes the Great Virtuoso in a Letter. --Liszterases his Life as a Virtuoso, and becomes Chapel-Master and CourtConductor at Weimar. --Avowed Belief in the New School of Music, andProduction of Works of this School. --Wagner's Testimony to Liszt'sAssistance. --Liszt's Resignation of his Weimar Post after TenYears. --His Subsequent Life. --He takes Holy Orders. --Liszt as a Virtuosoand Composer. --Entitled to be placed among tire most Remarkable Men ofhis Age. 

I. 

There are but few names in music more interesting than that of FranzLiszt, the spoiled favorite of Europe for more than half a century, andwithout question the greatest piano-forte virtuoso that ever lived. Hislife has passed through the sunniest regions of fortune and success, and from his cradle upward the gods have showered on him their richestgifts. His career as an artist and musician has been most remarkable, his personal life full of romance, and his connection with some ofthe most vital changes in music which have occurred during the centuryinteresting and significant. From his first appearance in public, at theage of twelve, his genius was acknowledged with enthusiasm throughoutthe whole republic of art, from Beethoven down to the obscurest_dilletante_, and it may be asserted that the history of music knowsno instance of success approaching that achieved by the performancesof this great player in every capital of Europe, from Madrid to St. Petersburg. When he wearied of the fame of the virtuoso, and becamea composer, not only for the piano-forte, but for the orchestra, hisinvincible energy soon overcame all difficulties in his path, and he haslived to see himself accepted as one of the greatest of living musicalthinkers and writers. 

The life of Liszt is so crowded with important incidents that it isdifficult to condense into the brief limits of a sketch any fairlyadequate statement of his career. He was born October 22, 1811, in thevillage of Raiding, in Hungary, and it is said that his father AdamLiszt, who was in the service of the Prince Esterhazy, was firmlyconvinced that the child would become distinguished on account of theappearance of a remarkable comet during the year. Adam Liszt himself wasa fine pianist, gifted indeed with a talent which might have made himeminent had he pursued it. All his ambition and hope, however, centeredin his son, in whom musical genius quickly declared itself; and thefather found teaching this gifted child not only a labor of love, buta task smoothed by the extraordinary aptness of the pupil. He wasaccustomed to say to the young Franz: "My son, you are destined torealize the glorious ideal that has shone in vain before my youth. Inyou that is to reach its fulfillment which I have myself but faintlyconceived. In you shall my genius grow up and bear fruit; I shall renewmy youth in you even after I am laid in the grave. " Such prophetic wordsrecall the vision of the Genoese woman, who foresaw the future greatnessof the little Nicolo Paganini, a genius who resembled in many ways thephenomenal musical force embodied in Franz Liszt. When the lad was veryyoung, perhaps not more than six, he read the "Kené" of Chateaubriand, and it made such an indelible impression on his mind that he in afteryears spoke of it as having been one of the most potent influences ofhis life, since it stimulated the natural melancholy of his characterwhen his nature was most flexible and impressible. 

At the age of nine he made his first appearance in public at Odenburg, playing Bies's concerto in three flats, and improvising a fantasia sofull of melodic ideas, striking rhythms, and well-arranged harmony as tostrike the audience with surprise and admiration. Among the hearers wasPrince Esterhazy, who was so pleased with the precocious talent shownthat he put a purse of fifty ducats in the young musician's hand. Soonafter this Adam Liszt went to Pres-burg to live, and several noblemen, among whom were Prince Esterhazy, and the Counts Amadée and Szapary, allof them enthusiastic patrons of music, determined to bear the burden ofthe boy's musical education. To this end they agreed to allow him sixhundred florins a year for six years. Young Liszt was placed at Viennaunder the tutelage of the celebrated pianist and teacher Czerny, andsoon made such progress that he was able to play such works as thoseeven of Beethoven and Hummel at first sight. When Liszt did this forone of Hummel's most difficult concertos, at the rooms of the musicpublisher one day, it created a great sensation in Vienna, and hequickly became one of the lions of the drawing-rooms of the capital. Czerny himself was so much delighted with the genius of his chargethat he refused to accept the three hundred florins stipulated for hislessons, saying he was but too well repaid by the success of the pupil. 

Though toiling with incessant industry in musical study and practice, for the boy was working at composition with Salieri and Randhartinger, as well as the piano-forte with Czerny, he found time to indulge inthose strange, mystical, and fantastic dreams which have molded hiswhole life, oscillating between pietistic delirium, wherein he sawcelestial visions and felt the call to a holy life, and the mostvoluptuous images and aspirations for earthly pleasures. Franz Lisztat this early age had a sensibility so delicate, and an imagination soquickly kindled, that he himself tells us no one can guess the extremesof ecstasy and despair through which he alternately passed. Thesespiritual experiences were perhaps fed by the mysticism of Jacob Boehme, whose works came into his possession, and furnished a most delusive anddangerous guide for the young enthusiast's fancy. But, dream and sufferas he might, nothing was allowed to quench the ardor of his musicalstudies. 

Eighteen months were passed in diligent labor under the guidance of themasters, who found teaching almost unnecessary, as the wonderful ladneeded but a hint to work out for himself the most difficult problems, and he toiled so incessantly that he often became conscious of thechange of day into night only by the failure of the light and the comingof the candles. Finally, by advice of Salieri, after eighteen months oflabor, he determined to appear in concert in Vienna. On this occasionthe audience was composed of the most distinguished people of Vienna, drawn thither to hear the young musical wonder of whom every one talked. Among the hearers was Beethoven, who after the concert gave the proudboy the most cordial praise, and prophesied a great career for him. 

The elder Liszt was already in Paris, and it was determined thatFranz should go to that city, to avail himself of the instructions ofCherubini, at the Conservatoire, who as a teacher of counterpoint hadno equal in Europe. The Prince Metternich sent letters of the warmestrecommendation, but they were of no avail, for Cherubini, who wassingularly whimsical and obstinate in his notions, refused to acceptthe new candidate, on account of the rule of the Conservatoire excludingpupils of foreign birth, a plea which the famous director did nothesitate to break when he chose. Franz, however, continued his studiesunder Reicha and Paer, and, while the gates of the Conservatoire wereclosed, all the salons of Paris opened to receive him. Everywhere he wasfeted, courted, caressed. This fair-haired, blue-eyed lad, with the sealof genius burning on his face, had made the social world mad over him. The young adventurer was sailing in a treacherous channel, full ofdangerous reefs. Would he, in the homage paid to him, an unmaturedyouth, by scholars, artists, wealth, beauty, and rank, forgot in mereself-love and vanity his high obligations to his art and the sinceredevotion which alone could wrest from art its richest guerdon? Thisproblem seems to have troubled his father, for he determined to take hisyoung Franz away from the palace of Circe. The boy had already made anattempt at composition in the shape of an operetta, in one act, "DonSanche, " which was very well received at the Académie Royale. AdolphNourrit, the great singer, had led the young composer on the stage, where he was received with thunders of applause by the audience, andwas embraced with transport by Rudolph Kreutzer, the director of theorchestra. 

Adam Liszt and his son went to England, and spent about six months ingiving concerts in London and other cities. Franz was less thanfourteen years old, but the pale, fragile, slender boy had, in the deepmelancholy which stamped the noble outline of his face, an appearanceof maturity that belied his years. English audiences everywhere receivedhim with admiration, but he seemed to have lost all zest for theintoxicating wine of public favor. A profound gloom stole over him, and we even hear of hints at an attempt to commit suicide. Adam Lisztattributed it to the sad English climate, which Hein-rich Heine cursedwith such unlimited bitterness, and took his boy back again to sunnierFrance. But the dejection darkened and deepened, threatening evento pass into epilepsy. It assumed the form of religious enthusiasm, alternating with fits of remorse as of one who had committed theunpardonable sin, and sometimes expressed itself in a species of frenzyfor the monastic life. These strange experiences alarmed the father, and, in obedience to medical advice, he took the ailing, half-hystericallad to Boulogne-sur-Mer, for sea-bathing. 

II. 

While by the seaside Franz Liszt lost the father who had loved himwith the devotion of father and mother combined. This fresh stroke ofaffliction deepened his dejection, and finally resulted in a fit ofsevere illness. When he was convalescent new views of life seemedto inspire him. He was now entirely thrown on his own resources forsupport, for Adam Liszt had left his affairs so deeply involved thatthere was but little left for his son and widow. A powerful nature, turned awry by unhealthy broodings, is often rescued from its own mentalperversities by the sense of some new responsibility suddenly imposed onit. Boy as Liszt was, the Titan in him had already shown itself inthe agonies and struggles which he had undergone, and, now that thenecessity of hard work suddenly came, the atmosphere of turmoil andgloom began to clear under the imminent practical burden of life. He setresolutely to work composing and giving concerts. The religious maniaunder which he had rested for a while turned his thoughts to sacredmusic, and most of his compositions were masses. But the very effort ofresponsible toil set, as it were, a background against which he couldappoint the true place and dimensions of his art work. There was anotherdisturbance, however, which now stirred up his excitable mind. He fellmadly in love with a lady of high rank, and surrendered his young heartentirely to this new passion. The unfortunate issue of this attachment, for the lady was much older than himself, and laughed with a gentlemockery at the infatuation of her young adorer, made Liszt intenselyunhappy and misanthropical, but it did not prevent him from steadylabor. Indeed, work became all the more welcome, as it served todistract his mind from its amorous pains, and his fantastic musings, instead of feeding on themselves, expressed themselves in his art. Certainly no healthier sign of one beginning to clothe himself in hisright mind again can easily be imagined. 

Liszt was now twenty years of age, and had regularly settled in Paris. He became acquainted intimately with the leaders of French literature, and was an habitué of the brilliant circles which gathered these greatminds night after night. Lamartine and Chateaubriand were yieldingplace to a young and fiery school of writers and thinkers, but cordiallyclasped hands with the successors whom they themselves had madepossible. Mme. George Sand, Balzac, Dumas, Victor Hugo, and others werejust then beginning to stir in the mental revolution which they madefamous. Liszt felt a deep interest in the literary and scientificinterests of the day, and he threw himself into the new movement withgreat enthusiasm, for its strong wave moved art as well as letters withconvulsive throes. The musician found in this fresh impulse somethingcongenial to his own fiery, restless, aspiring nature. He enteredeagerly into all the intellectual movements of the day. He became aSt. Simonian and such a hot-headed politician that, had he not been anartist, and as such considered a harmless fanatic, he would perhaps haveincurred some penalties. Liszt has left us, in his "Life of Chopin, " andhis letters, some very vivid portraitures of the people and the events, the fascinating literary and artistic reunions, and the personalexperiences which made this part of his life so interesting; but, tempting as it is, we can not linger. There can be no question that thissection of his career profoundly colored his whole life, and thatthe influence of Victor Hugo, Balzac, and Mme. George Sand is veryperceptible in his compositions not merely in their superficial toneand character, but in the very theory on which they are built. Lisztthenceforward cut loose from all classic restraints, and dared to flingrules and canons to the winds, except so far as his artistic tasteapproved them. The brilliant and daring coterie, defying conventionalityand the dull decorum of social law, in which our artist lived, wroughtalso another change in his character. Liszt had hitherto been almostaustere in his self-denial, in restraint of passion and license, ina religious purity of life, as if he dwelt in the cold shadow of themonastery, not knowing what moment he should disappear within its gates. There was now to be a radical change. 

One of the brilliant members of the coterie in which he lived a life ofsuch keen mental activity was Countess D'Agoult, who afterward becamefamous in the literary world as "Daniel Stern. " Beautiful, witty, accomplished, imaginative, thoroughly in sympathy with her friendGeorge Sand in her views of love and matrimony, and not less daringin testifying to her opinion by actions, the name of Mme. D'Agoult hadalready been widely bruited abroad in connection with more than oneromantic escapade. In the powerful personality of young Franz Liszt, instinct with an artistic genius which aspired like an eagle, vital witha resolute, reckless will, and full of a magnetic energy that overflowedin everything--looks, movements, talk, playing--the somewhat ficklenature of Mme. D'Agoult was drawn to the artist like steel to a magnet. Liszt, on the other hand, easily yielded to the refined and delicioussensuousness of one of the most accomplished women of her time, who toevery womanly fascination added the rarest mental gifts and high socialplace. 

The mutual passion soon culminated in a tie which lasted for many years, and was perhaps as faithfully observed by both parties as could beexpected of such an irregular connection. Three children were theoffspring of this attachment, a son who died, and two daughters, one ofwhom became the wife of M. Ollivier, the last imperial prime minister ofFrance, and the other successively Mme. Von Bûlow and Mme. Wagner, underwhich latter title she is still known. The _chroniques scandaleuses_of Paris and other great cities of Europe are full of racy scandalspurporting to connect the name of Liszt with well-known charming andbeautiful women, but, aside from the uncertainty which goes with suchrumors, this is not a feature of Liszt's life on which it is our purposeto dilate. The errors of such a man, exposed by his temperament andsurroundings to the fiercest breath of temptation, should be ratherveiled than opened to the garish day. Of the connection with Mme. D'Agoult something has been briefly told, because it had an importantinfluence on his art career. Though the Church had never sanctioned thetie, there is every reason to believe that the lady's power over Lisztwas consistently used to restrain his naturally eccentric bias, and tokeep his thoughts fixed on the loftiest art ideals. 

III. 

Soon after Liszt's connection with Mme. D'Agoult began, he retired withhis devoted companion to Geneva, Switzerland, a city always celebratedin the annals of European literature and art. In the quiet and charmingatmosphere of this city our artist spent two years, busy for the mostpart in composing. He had already attained a superb rank as a pianist, and of those virtuosos who had then exhibited their talents in Parisno one was considered at all worthy to be compared with Liszt exceptChopin. Aside from the great mental grasp, the opulent imagination, thefire and passion, the dazzling technical skill of the player, there wasa vivid personality in Liszt as a man which captivated audiences. Thiselement dominated his slightest action. He strode over the concertstage with the haughty step of a despot who ruled with a sway not to becontested. Tearing his gloves from his fingers and hurling them onthe piano, he would seat himself with a proud gesture, run his fingersthrough his waving blonde locks, and then attack the piano with thevehemence of a conqueror taking his army into action. Much of thismanner was probably the outcome of natural temperament, something theresult of affectation; but it helped to add to the glamour with whichLiszt always held his audiences captive. When he left Paris for astudious retirement at Geneva, the throne became vacant. By and by therecame a contestant for the seat, a player no less remarkable in manyrespects than Liszt himself, Sigismond Thalberg, whose performancesaroused Paris, alert for a new sensation, into an enthusiasm whichquickly mounted to boiling heat. Humors of the danger threatened to hishitherto acknowledged ascendancy reached Liszt in his Swiss retreat. Theartist's ambition was stirred to the quick; he could not sleep at nightwith the thought of this victorious rival who was snatching his laurels, and he hastened back to Paris to meet Thalberg on his own ground. The latter, however, had already left Paris, and Liszt only felt theground-swell of the storm he had raised. There was a hot division ofopinion among the Parisians, as there had been in the days of Gluck andPiccini. Society was divided into Lisztians and Thalbergians, and toindulge in this strife was the favorite amusement of the fashionableworld. Liszt proceeded to reestablish his place by a series ofremarkable concerts, in which he introduced to the public some of theworks wrought out during his retirement, among them transcriptions fromthe songs of Schubert and the symphonies of Beethoven, in which the mostfree and passionate poetic spirit was expressed through the medium oftechnical difficulties in the scoring before unknown to the art of thepiano-forte. There can be no doubt that the influence of Thalberg'srivalry on Liszt's mind was a strong force, and suggested newcombinations. Without having heard Thalberg, our artist had alreadydivined the secret of his effects, and borrowed from them enough to givea new impulse to an inventive faculty which was fertile in expedientsand quick to assimilate all things of value to the uses of its owninsatiable ambition. 

Franz Liszt's career as a traveling virtuoso commenced in 1837, andlasted for twelve years. Hitherto he had resisted the impulsion tosuch a course, all his desires rushing toward composition, but theextraordinary rewards promised cooperated with the spur of rivalry toovercome all scruples. The first year of these art travels was madememorable by the great inundation of the Danube, which caused so muchsuffering at Pesth. Thousands of people were rendered homeless, andthe scene was one that appealed piteously to the humanitarian mind. Theheart of Franz Liszt burned with sympathy, and he devoted the proceedsof his concerts for nearly two months to the alleviation of the woes ofhis countrymen. A princely sum was contributed by the artist, which wentfar to assist the sufferers. The number of occasions on which Lisztgave his services to charity was legion. It is credibly stated that theamount of benefactions contributed by his benefit concerts, added to theimmense sums which he directly disbursed, would have made him severaltimes a millionaire. 

The blaze of enthusiasm which Liszt kindled made his track luminousthroughout the musical centers of Europe. Cæsar-like, his very arrivalwas a victory, for it aroused an indescribable ferment of agitation, which rose at his concerts to wild excesses. Ladies of the highest ranktore their gloves to strips in the ardor of their applause, flungtheir jewels on the stage instead of bouquets, shrieked in ecstasy andsometimes fainted, and made a wild rush for the stage at the close ofthe music to see Liszt, and obtain some of the broken strings of thepiano, which the artist had ruined in the heat of his play, as preciousrelics of the occasion. The stories told of the Liszt craze among theladies of Germany and Russia are highly amusing, and have a value asregistering the degree of the effect he produced on impressible minds. Even sober and judicious critics who knew well whereof they spokeyielded to the contagion. Schumann writes of him, _apropos_ of hisDresden and Leipzig concerts in 1840: "The whole audience greeted hisappearance with an enthusiastic storm of applause, and then he began toplay. I had heard him before, but an artist is a different thing in thepresence of the public compared with what he appears in the presence ofa few. The fine open space, the glitter of light, the elegantly dressedaudience--all this elevates the frame of mind in the giver and receiver. And now the demon's power began to awake; he first played with thepublic as if to try it, then gave it something more profound, untilevery single member was enveloped in his art; and then the whole massbegan to rise and fall precisely as he willed it. I never found anyartist except Paga-nini to possess in so high a degree this power ofsubjecting, elevating, and leading the public. It is an instantaneousvariety of wildness, tenderness, boldness, and airy grace; theinstrument glows under the hand of its master. . . . It is most easy tospeak of his outward appearance. People have often tried to picturethis by comparing Liszt's head to Schiller's or Napoleon's; and thecomparison so far holds good, in that extraordinary men possess certaintraits in common, such as an expression of energy and strength of willin the eyes and mouth. He has some resemblance to the portraits ofNapoleon as a young general, pale, thin, with a remarkable profile, the whole significance of his appearance culminating in his head. Whilelistening to Liszt's playing, I have often almost imagined myself aslistening to one I heard long before. But this art is scarcely to bedescribed. It is not this or that style of piano-forte playing; it israther the outward expression of a daring character, to whom Fate hasgiven as instruments of victory and command, not the dangerous weapon ofwar, but the peaceful ones of art. No matter how many and great artistswe possess or have seen pass before us of recent years, though some ofthem equal him in single points, all must yield to him in energy andboldness. People have been very fond of placing Thalberg in the listsbeside him, and then drawing comparisons. But it is only necessary tolook at both heads to come to a conclusion. I remember the remark ofa Viennese designer who said, not inaptly, that his countryman's headresembled that of a handsome countess with a man's nose, while of Liszthe observed that he might sit to every painter for a Grecian god. Thereis a similar difference in their art. Chopin stands nearer to Liszt as aplayer, for at least he loses nothing beside him in fairy-like grace andtenderness; next to him Paganini, and, among women, Mme. Malibran; fromthese Liszt himself says he has learned the most. . . . Liszt's most genialperformance was yet to come, Weber's 'Concert-stuck, ' which he playedat the second performance. Virtuoso and public seemed to be in thefreshest mood possible on that evening, and the enthusiasm during andafter his playing almost exceeded anything hitherto known here. AlthoughLiszt grasped the piece from the begin-ing with such force and grandeurthat an attack on the battle-field seemed to be in question, yet hecarried this on with continually increasing power, until the passagewhere the player seems to stand at the summit of the orchestra, leadingit forward in triumph. Here, indeed, he resembled that great commanderto whom he has been compared, and the tempestuous applause that greetedhim was not unlike an adoring 'Vive l'Empereur. '"

Flattering to his pride, however, as were the universal honors bestowedon the artist, none were so grateful as those from his own countrymen. The philanthropy of his conduct had made a deep impression on theHungarians. Two cities, Pesth and Odenburg, created him an honorarycitizen; a patent of nobility was solicited for him by the _comitat_ ofOdenburg; and the "sword of honor, " according to Hungarian custom, waspresented to him with due solemnities. A brief account from an Hungarianjournal of the time is of interest. 

"The national feeling of the Magyars is well known; and proud are theyof that star of the first magnitude which arose out of their nation. Over the countries of Europe the fame of the Hungarian Liszt came tothem before they had as yet an opportunity of admiring him. The Danubewas swollen by rains, Pesth was inundated, thousands were mourningthe loss of friends and relations or of all their property. Duringhis absence in Milan Liszt learned that many of his countrymen weresuffering from absolute want. His resolution was taken. The smilingheaven of Italy, the _dolce far niente_ of Southern life, could notdetain him. The following morning he had quitted Milan and was on hisway to Vienna. He performed for the benefit of those who had sufferedby the inundation at Pesth. His art was the horn of plenty from whichstreamed forth blessings for the afflicted. Eighteen months afterward hecame to Pesth, not as the artist in search of pecuniary advantage, but as a Magyar. He played for the Hungarian national theatre, for themusical society, for the poor of Pesth and of Odenburg, always beforecrowded houses, and the proceeds, fully one hundred thousand francs, were appropriated for these purposes. Who can wonder that admirationand pride should arise to enthusiasm in the breasts of his gratefulcountrymen? He was complimented by serenades, garlands were thrownto him; in short, the whole population of Pesth neglected nothing tomanifest their respect, gratitude, and affection. But these honors, which might have been paid to any other artist of high distinction, didnot satisfy them. They resolved to bind him for ever to the Hungariannation from which he sprang. The token of manly honor in Hungary isa sword, for every Magyar has the right to wear a sword, and availshimself of that right. It was determined that their celebratedcountryman should be presented with the Hungarian sword of honor. Thenoblemen appeared at the theatre, in the rich costume they usually wearbefore the emperor, and presented Liszt, midst thunders of applause fromthe whole assembled people, with a costly sword of honor. " It was alsoproposed to erect a bronze statue of him in Pesth, but Liszt persuadedhis countrymen to give the money to a struggling young artist instead. 

IV. 

In the autumn of 1840 Liszt went from Paris, at which city he had beenplaying for some time, to the north of Germany, where he at first foundthe people colder than he had been wont to experience. But this soondisappeared before the magic of his playing, and even the Hamburgers, notorious for a callous, bovine temperament, gave wild demonstrationsof pleasure at his concerts. He specially pleased the worthy citizensby his willingness to play off-hand, without notes, any work which theycalled for, a feat justly regarded as a stupendous exercise of memory. From Hamburg he went to London, where he gave nine concerts in afortnight, and stormed the affections and admiration of the Englishpublic as he had already conquered the heart of Continental Europe. While in London a calamity befell him. A rascally agent in whom heimplicitly trusted disappeared with the proceeds of three hundredconcerts, an enormous sum, amounting to nearly fifty thousand poundssterling. Liszt bore this reverse with cheerful spirits and scornedthe condolences with which his friends sought to comfort him, saying hecould easily make the money again, that his wealth was not in money, butin the power of making money. 

The artist's musical wanderings were nearly without ceasing. Hisrestless journeying carried him from Italy to Denmark, and from theBritish Islands to Russia, and everywhere the art and social world bowedat his feet in recognition of a genius which in its way could only bedesignated by the term "colossal. " It seems cumbersome and monotonous torepeat the details of successive triumphs; but some of them are attendedby features of peculiar interest. He offered, in the summer of 1841, to give the proceeds of a concert to the completion of the Cathedralof Cologne (who that loves music does not remember Liszt's setting ofHeine's song "Im Rhein, " where he translates the glory of the Cathedralinto music?). Liszt was then staying at the island of Nonneworth, nearBonn, and a musical society, the Liedertafel, resolved to escort himup to Cologne with due pomp, and so made a grand excursion with a greatcompany of invited guests on a steamboat hired for the purpose. A fineband of music greeted Liszt on landing, and an extensive banquet wasthen served, at which Liszt made an eloquent speech, full of wit andfeeling. The artist acceded to the desire of the great congregation ofpeople who had gathered to hear him play; and his piano was broughtinto the ruined old chapel of the ancient nunnery, about which so manyromantic Rhenish legends cluster. Liszt gave a display of his wonderfulpowers to the delighted multitude, and the long-deserted hall ofNonneworth chapel, which for many years had only heard the melancholycall of the owl, resounded with the most magnificent music. Finallythe procession with Liszt at the head marched to the steamboat, and thevessel glided over the bosom of the Rhine amid the dazzling glare offireworks and to the music of singing and instruments. All Cologne wasassembled to meet them, and Liszt was carried on the shoulders of hisfrantic admirers to his hotel. 

In common with all other great musicians, Liszt has throughout life beena reverential admirer of the genius of Beethoven, an isolated forcein music without peer or parallel. In his later years Liszt bitterlyreproached himself because, in the vanity and impetuosity of his youth, he had dared to take liberties with the text of the Beethoven sonatas. Many interesting facts in Liszt's life connect themselves, directlyor indirectly, with Beethoven. Among these is worthy of mention ourartist's part in the Beethoven festival at Bonn in 1845, organized tocelebrate the erection of a colossal bronze statue. The enterprise hadbeen languishing for a long time, when Liszt promptly declared hewould make up the deficiency single-handed, and this he did with greatcelerity. In an incredibly short time the money was raised, and thecommission put in the hands of the sculptor Hilbnel, of Dresden, one ofthe foremost artists of Germany. 

The programme for the celebration was drawn up by Liszt and Dr. Spohr, who were to be the joint conductors of the festival music. A thousanddifficulties intervened to embarrass the organization of the affair, the jealousies of prominent singers, who revolted against theself-effacement they would needs undergo, a certain truly Germanparsimony in raising the money for the expenses, and the enviouslittleness of certain great composers and musicians, who feared thatLiszt would reap too much glory from the prominence of the part hehad taken in the affair, But Liszt's energy had surmounted all theseobstacles, when finally, only a month before the festival, which wasto take place in August, it was discovered that there was no suitablePesthalle in Bonn. The committee said, "What if the affair should notpay expenses? would they not be personally saddled with the debt?" Lisztpromptly answered that, if the proceeds were not sufficient, he himselfwould pay the cost of the building. The architect of the CologneCathedral was placed at the head of the work, a waste plot of groundselected, the trees grubbed up, timber fished up from one of the greatRhine rafts, and the Festhalle rose with the swiftness of Aladdin'spalace. The erection of the statue of Beethoven at his birthplace, and the musical celebration thereof in August, 1845, one of the mostinteresting events of its kind that ever occurred, must be, for the mostpart, attributed to the energy and munificence of Franz Liszt. Greatpersonages were present from all parts of Europe, among them KingWilliam of Prussia and Queen Victoria of England. Henry Chorley, whohas given a pretty full description of the festival, says that Liszt'sperformance of Beethoven's concerto in E flat was the crowning gloryof the festival, in spite of the richness and beauty of the rest of theprogramme. "I must lastly commemorate, as the most magnificent piece ofpiano-forte playing I ever heard, Dr. Liszt's delivery of the concertoin E flat. . . . Whereas its deliverer restrained himself within all thelimits that the most sober classicist could have prescribed, he stillrose to a loftiness, in part ascribable to the enthusiasm of time andplace, in part referable to a nature chivalresque, proud, and poetic inno common degree, which I have heard no other instrumentalist attain. . . . The triumph in the mind of the executant sustained the triumph in theidea of the compositions without strain, without spasm, but with abreadth and depth and height such as made the genius of the executantapproach the genius of the inventor. . . . There are players, there arepoets; and as a poet Liszt was possibly never so sublimely or genuinelyinspired as in that performance, which remains a bright and preciousthing in the midst of all the curiously parti-colored recollections ofthe Beethoven festival at Bonn. "

In 1846, among Liszt's other musical experiences, he played in concertswith Berlioz throughout Austria and Southern Germany. The impetuousOsechs and Magyars showed their hot Tartar blood in the passion ofenthusiasm they displayed. Berlioz relates that, at his first concert atPesth, he performed his celebrated version of the "Rákóczy March, " andthere was such a furious explosion of excitement that it wellnigh put anend to the concert. At the end of the performance Berlioz was wiping theperspiration from his face in the little room off the stage, when thedoor burst open, and a shabbily dressed man, his face glowing with astrange fire, rushed in, throwing himself at Berlioz's feet, his eyesbrimming with tears. He kissed the composer over and over again, andsobbed out brokenly: "Ah, sir! Me Hungarian. . . Poor devil. . . Notspeak French. . . _un, poco l'taliano_. . . . Pardon. . . My ecstasy. . . Ah!understand your cannon. . . Yes! yes! the great battle. . . Germans, dogs!"Then, striking great blows with his fists on his chest, "In my heart Icarry you. . . A Frenchman, revolutionist. . . Know how to write music forrevolutions. " At a supper given after the performance, Berlioz tellsus Liszt made an inimitable speech, and got so gloriously be-champagnedthat it was with great difficulty that he could be restrained frompistolling a Bohemian nobleman, at two o'clock in the morning, whoinsisted that he could carry off more bottles under his belt than Liszt. But the latter played at a concert next day at noon "assuredly as he hadnever played before, " says Berlioz. 

Before passing from that period of Liszt's career which was distinctlythat of the virtuoso, it is proper to refer to the unique character ofthe enthusiasm which everywhere followed his track like the turmoil ofa stormy sea. Europe had been familiar with other great players, many ofthem consummate artists, like Hummel, Henri Herz, Czerny, Kalkbrenner, Field, Moscheles, and Thalberg, the most brilliant name of them all. Butthe feeling which these performers aroused was pale and passionlessin comparison with that evoked by Franz Liszt. This was not merely theoutcome of Liszt as a player and musician, but of Liszt as a man. Theman always impressed people as immeasurably bigger than what he did, great as that was. His nature had a lavishness that knew no bounds. Helived for every distinguished man and beautiful woman, and with everyjoyous thing. He had wit and sympathy to spare for gentle and simple, and his kindliness was lavished with royal profusion on the scum as wellas the salt of the earth. This atmosphere of personal grandeur radiatedfrom him, and invested his doings, musical and otherwise, with somethingpeculiarly fine and fascinating. And then as a player Liszt rose abovehis mates as something of a different genius, a different race, adifferent world, to every one else who has ever handled a piano. He isnot to be considered among the great composers, also pianists, who havemerely treated their instrument as an interpreting medium, but as apoet, who executively employed the piano as his means of utterance andmaterial for creation. In mere mechanical skill, after every one elsehas ended, Liszt had still something to add, carrying every man'sdiscovery further. If he was surpassed by Thalberg in richness of sound, he surpassed Thalberg by a variety of tone of which the redoubtableViennese player had no dream. He had his delicate, light, freakishmoods in which he might stand for another Chopin in qualities of fancy, sentiment, and faëry brilliancy. In sweep of hand and rapidity offinger, in fire and fineness of execution, in that interweaving ofexquisite momentary fancies where the work admits, in a memory so vastas to seem almost superhuman; in that lightning quickness of view, enabling him to penetrate instantaneously the meaning of a newcomposition, and to light it up properly with its own inner spirit (sometouch of his own brilliancy added); briefly, in a mastery, complete, spontaneous, enjoying and giving enjoyment, over every style and schoolof music, all those who have heard Liszt assert that he is unapproachedamong players and the traditions of players. 

In a letter from Berlioz to Liszt, the writer gives us a vivid idea ofthe great virtuoso's playing and its effects. Berlioz is complaining ofthe difficulties which hamper the giving of orchestral concerts. After rehearsing his mishaps, he says: "After all, of what use is suchinformation to you? You can say with confidence, changing the mot ofLouis XIV, '_L'orchestre, c'est moi; le chour, c'est moi; le chefc'est encore moi_. ' My piano-forte sings, dreams, explodes, resounds;it defies the flight of the most skillful forms; it has, like theorchestra, its brazen harmonies; like it, and without the leastpreparation, it can give to the evening breeze its cloud of fairy chordsand vague melodies. I need neither theatre, nor box scene, nor muchstaging. I have not to tire myself out at long rehearsals. I wantneither a hundred, fifty, nor twenty players. I do not even need anymusic. A grand hall, a grand pianoforte, and I am master of a grandaudience. I show myself and am applauded; my memory awakens, dazzlingfantasies grow beneath my fingers. Enthusiastic acclamations answerthem. I sing Schubert's "Ave Maria, " or Beethoven's "Adelaida" on thepiano, and all hearts tend toward me, all breasts hold their breath. . . . Then come luminous bombs, the banquet of this grand firework, and thecries of the public, and the flowers and the crowns that rain aroundthe priest of harmony, shuddering on his tripod; and the young beauties, who, all in tears, in their divine confusion kiss the hem of hiscloak; and the sincere homage drawn from serious minds and the feverishapplause torn from many; the lofty brows that bow down, and the narrowhearts, marveling to find themselves expanding '. . . . It is a dream, oneof those golden dreams one has when one is called Liszt or Paganini. "

That such a man as this, brilliant in wit, extravagant in habit andopinion, courted for his personal fascination by every one greatest inrank and choicest in intellect from his prodigious youth to his ripemanhood, should suddenly cease from display at the moment when hispopularity was at its highest, when no rival was in being, is aremarkable trait in Dr. Franz Liszt's remarkable life. But this he didin 1849, by settling in Weimar as conductor of the court theatre, hisage then being thirty-eight years. 

V. 

Liszt closed his career as a virtuoso, and accepted a permanentengagement at Weimar, with the distinct purpose of becoming identifiedwith the new school of music which was beginning to express itself soremarkably through Richard Wagner. His new position enabled him to bringworks before the world which would otherwise have had but little chanceof seeing the light of day, and he rapidly produced at brief intervalseleven works, either for the first time, or else revived from what hadseemed a dead failure. Among these works were "Lohengrin, " "Rienzi, " and"Tannhâuser" by Wagner, "Benvenuto Cellini" by Berlioz, and Schumann's"Genoveva, " and music to Byron's "Manfred. " Liszt's new departureand the extraordinary band of artists he drew around him attractedthe attention of the world of music, and Weimar became a great musicalcenter, even as in the days of Goethe it had been a visiting shrine forthe literary pilgrims of Europe. Thus a nucleus of bold and enthusiasticmusicians was formed whose mission it was to preach the gospel of thenew musical faith. 

Richard Wagner says that, after the revolution of 1849, when he wascompelled to fly for his life, he was thoroughly disheartened as anartist, and that all thought of musical creativeness was dead withinhim. From this stagnation he was rescued by a friend, and that friendwas Franz Liszt. Let us tell the story in Wagner's own words:

"I met Liszt for the first time during my earliest stay in Paris, ata period when I had renounced the hope, nay, even a wish of a Parisreputation, and, indeed, was in a state of internal revolt against theartistic life which I found there. At our meeting he struck me as themost perfect contrast to my own being and situation. In this world intowhich it had been my desire to fly from my narrow circumstances, Liszthad grown up from his earliest age so as to be the object of generallove and admiration at a time when I was repulsed by general coldnessand want of sympathy. In consequence, I looked upon him with suspicion. I had no opportunity of disclosing my being and working to him, andtherefore the reception I met with on his part was of a superficialkind, as was indeed natural in a man to whom every day the mostdivergent impressions claimed access. But I was not in a mood to lookwith unprejudiced eyes for the natural cause of this behavior, which, though friendly and obliging in itself, could not but wound me in thethen state of my mind. I never repeated my first call on Liszt, and, without knowing or even wishing to know him, I was prone to look onhim as strange and adverse to my nature. My repeated expression of thisfeeling was afterward told to him, just at the time when my "Rienzi"at Dresden was attracting general attention. He was surprised to findhimself misunderstood with such violence by a man whom he had scarcelyknown, and whose acquaintance now seemed not without value to him. I amstill moved when I think of the repeated and eager attempts he made tochange my opinion of him, even before he knew any of my works. He actednot from any artistic sympathy, but led by the purely human wish ofdiscontinuing a casual disharmony between himself and another being;perhaps he also felt an infinitely tender misgiving of having reallyhurt me unconsciously. He who knows the selfishness and terribleinsensibility of our social life, and especially of the relationsof modern artists to each other, can not be struck with wonder, nay, delight, with the treatment I received from this remarkable man. . . . AtWeimar I saw him for the last time, when I was resting for a few days inThuringia, uncertain whether the threatening persecution would compel meto continue my flight from Germany. The very day when my personaldanger became a certainty, I saw Liszt conducting a rehearsal of my'Tannhouser, ' and was astonished at recognizing my second self inhis achievement. What I had felt in inventing this music, he felt inperforming it; what I had wanted to express in writing it down, heexpressed in making it sound. Strange to say, through the love of thisrarest friend, I gained, at the very moment of becoming homeless, a realhome for my art which I had hitherto longed for and sought for inthe wrong place. . . . At the end of my last stay in Paris, when, ill, miserable, and despairing, I sat brooding over my fate, my eye fell onthe score of my 'Lohengrin, ' which I had totally forgotten. Suddenly Ifelt something like compassion that this music should never sound fromoff the death-pale paper. Two words I wrote to Liszt; the answer wasthat preparation was being made for the performance on the grandestscale which the limited means of Weimar permitted. Everything thatman or circumstances could do was done to make the work understood. . . . Errors and misconceptions impeded the desired success. What was to bedone to supply what was wanted, so as to further the true understandingon all sides and, with it, the ultimate success of the work? Liszt sawit at once, and did it. He gave to the public his own impression of thework in a manner the convincing eloquence and overpowering efficacy ofwhich remain unequaled. Success was his reward, and with this success henow approaches me, saying, 'Behold, we have come so far! Now create us anew work, that we may go still farther. '"

Liszt remained at Weimar for ten years, when he resigned his placeon account of certain narrow jealousies and opposition offered to hisplans. Since 1859 he has lived at Weimar, Pesth, and Rome, alwaysthe center of a circle of pupils and admirers, and, though no longeroccupying an active place in the world, full of unselfish devotion tothe true interests of music and musicians. In 1868 he took minor ordersin the Roman priesthood. Since his early youth Liszt had been thesubject of strong paroxysms of religious feeling, which more than oncehad nearly carried him into monastic life, and thus his brilliant careerwould have been lost to the world and to art. After he had gained everyreward that can be lavished on genius, and tasted to the very dregsthe wine of human happiness, so far as that can come of a splendidprosperity and the adoration of the musical world for nearly half acentury, a sudden revulsion seems to have recalled again to the surfacethat profound religious passion which the glory and pleasure of his busylife had never entirely suppressed. It was by no means astonishing tothose who knew Liszt's life best that he should have taken holy orders. 

Abbé Liszt lives a portion of each year with the Prince-CardinalHohenlohe, in the well-known Villa d'Esté, near Rome, a château withwhose history much romance is interwoven. He is said to be very zealousin his religious devotions, and to spend much time in reading andcomposing. He rarely touches the piano, unless inspired by the presenceof visitors whom he thoroughly likes, and even in such cases less forhis own pleasure than for the gratification of his friends. Even hisintimate friends would hardly venture to ask Liszt to play. His summermonths are divided between Pesth and Weimar, where his advent alwaysmakes a glad commotion among the artistic circles of these respectivecities. Of the various pupils who have been formed by Liszt, Hans vonBulow, who married his daughter Cosima, is the most distinguished, and shares with Rubenstein the honor of being the first of Europeanpianists, now that Liszt has for so long a time withdrawn himself fromthe field of competition. 

VI. 

Liszt has been a very industrious and prolific writer, his worksnumbering thirty-one compositions for the orchestra; seven for thepiano-forte and orchestra; two for piano and violin; nine for the organ;thirteen masses, psalms, and other sacred music; two oratorios;fifteen cantatas and chorals; sixty-three songs; and one hundredand seventy-nine works for the piano-forte proper. The bulk of thesecompositions, the most important of them at least, were produced inthe first forty years of his life, and testify to enormous energy andcapacity for work, as they came into being during his active period asa virtuoso. In addition to his musical works, Liszt has showndistinguished talent in letters, and his articles and pamphlets, notablythe monographs on Robert Franz, Chopin, and the Music of the Gypsies, indicate that, had he not chosen to devote himself to music, he mighthave made himself an enviable name in literature. 

Perhaps no better characterization of Liszt could be made than to callhim the musical Victor Hugo of his age. In both these great men we findthe same restless and burning imagination, a quickness of sensibilityeasily aroused to vehemence, a continual reaching forward toward the newand untried and impatience of the old, the same great versatility, thesame unequaled command of all the resources of their respective crafts, and, until within the last twenty years, the same ceaseless fecundity. Of Liszt as a player it is not necessary to speak further. Suffice itthat he is acknowledged to have been, while pursuing the path of thevirtuoso, not only great, but the greatest in the records of art, withthe possible exception of Paganini. To the possession of a techniquewhich united all the best qualities of other players, carrying eacha step further, he added a powerful and passionate imagination whichilluminated the work before him. Wagner wrote of him: "He who has hadfrequent opportunities, particularly in a friendly circle, of hearingLiszt play, for instance, Beethoven, must have understood that thiswas not mere reproduction, but production. The actual point of divisionbetween these two things is not so easily determined as most peoplebelieve, but so much I have ascertained without a doubt, that, in orderto reproduce Beethoven, one must produce with him. " It was this qualitywhich made Liszt such a vital interpreter of other composers, as well assuch a brilliant performer of his own works. As a composer for the pianoFranz Liszt has been accused of sacrificing substantial charm of motivefor the creation of the most gigantic technical difficulties, designedfor the display of his own skill. This charge is best answered by astudy of his transcriptions of songs and symphonies, which, difficult inan extreme degree, are yet rich in no less excess with musical thoughtand fullness of musical color. He transcribed the "Etudes" of Pa-ganini, it is true, as a sort of "tour deforce", and no one has dared to attemptthem in the concert room but himself; but for the most part Liszt'spiano-forte writings are full of substance in their being as well assplendid elaboration in their form. This holds good no less of thepurely original compositions, like the concertos and "RhapsodiesHongroises, " than of the transcriptions and paraphrases of the _Lied_, the opera, and symphony. 

As a composer for the orchestra Liszt has spent the ripest period of hislife, and attained a deservedly high rank. His symphonies belong to whathas been called, for want of a better name, "programme music, " or musicwhich needs the key of the story or legend to explain and justify thecomposition. This classification may yet be very misleading. Liszt doesnot, like Berlioz, refer every feature of the music to a distinct event, emotion, or dramatic situation, but concerns himself chiefly withthe pictorial and symbolic bearings of his subject. For example, the"Mazeppa" symphony, based on Victor Hugo's poem, gets its significance, not in view of its description of Mazeppa's peril and rescue, butbecause this famous ride becomes the symbol of man: "_Lie vivant surla croupe fatale, Genie, ardent Coursier_. " The spiritual life of thisthought burns with subtile suggestions throughout the whole symphony. 

Liszt has not been merely a devoted adherent of the "Music of theFuture" as expressed in operatic form, but he has embodied his beliefin the close alliance of poetry and music in his symphonies andtranscriptions of songs. Anything more pictorial, vivid, descriptive, and passionate can not easily be fancied. It is proper also to say inpassing that the composer shows a command over the resources of theorchestra similar to his mastery of the piano, though at times atendency to violent and strident effects offends the ear. Franz Liszt, take him for all in all, must be regarded as one of the most remarkablemen of the last half century, a personality so stalwart, picturesque, and massive as to be not only a landmark in music, but an imposingfigure to those not specially characterized by their musical sympathies. His influence on his art has been deep and widespread; his connectionwith some of the most important movements of the last two generationswell marked; and his individuality a fact of commanding force in theart circles of nearly every country of Europe, where art bears any vitalconnection with social and public life. 

THE END.