Chapter III: Paganini (3)

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

Potent to stir the vibratory string,
And _wonders_ from the realms of sound to bring!
Skilled, through the _ear_, to reach the awakened _heart_,
Or bid the _Fancy_ play her picturing part!
Conqu’ror, whose captives, gladdened with soft strains,
Clung to thy sway, and revelled in their chains,
And came in crowds, their homage to renew,
And heaped the tribute still, as still thy due!
How _void_ the space that thou were wont to fill!
Thy throne, how vacant, now—and _mute_ thy skill!
Hast thou—hast _found_, far, far from earthly din,
The _rest_ thy glittering triumphs could not win?
—Farewell!—What chief soe’er may seek to reign,
_Thy like_ we shall not look upon again!

The _compositions_ of Paganini, replete as they are with the most surprising difficulties, and the boldest innovations, form prominent examples of what may be called the _romance_ of instrumental music. The design entertained by their author, of giving them to the world in his own life-time, as well as of imparting the _secret_ that should make their execution seem no longer super-human, was destined to have no fulfilment; and it is to be regretted that his death rendered impossible the complete publication of _all_ that he had composed, as not a few of the manuscript pieces were left by him in an imperfect state. Of _twenty-four_ several pieces, enumerated as forming the whole of the MS. original works of Paganini, preserved by his son, _nine_ only were discovered to be in a completed state. An edition of all that is presentable, however, has been undertaken in Paris, to gratify at length a twenty-years expectation but it is very doubtful whether a London edition will be ventured on, since it is only for the higher class of professors—for a very select minority—that such a collection can have any attractiveness, beyond that of mere curiosity.

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

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

As some sort of antidote to positive _despair_, I will conclude this chapter with a passage in which, despite their thorny intricacies, the above-named writer recommends the practical study of Paganini’s Works:—

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