Famous Violinists of To-day and Yesterday

by Henry Charles Lahee

Giovanni Baptiste Viotti has been called the last great representative of the classical Italian school, and it is also stated that with Viotti began the modern school of the violin. In whatever light he may be regarded, he was undoubtedly one of the greatest violinists of all. He retained in his style of playing and composing the dignified simplicity and noble pathos of the great masters of the Italian school, treating his instrument above all as a singing voice, and keeping strictly within its natural resources. According to Baillot, one of his most distinguished pupils, his style was "perfection," a word which covers a host of virtues.

Viotti was born in 1753 at Fontanetto, a village in Piedmont. His first musical instruction was received from his father, who is severally mentioned as a blacksmith and as a horn player. His musical talent being early noticeable, he was sent to Turin and placed by Prince Pozzo de la Cisterna under the tutelage of Pugnani, and was soon received into the royal band. In 1780 he travelled extensively, visiting Germany, Poland, and Russia, and meeting with great success. The Empress Catharine endeavoured to induce him to remain at St. Petersburg, but without success, and he proceeded to London, where he soon eclipsed all other violinists. In 1782 he went to Paris and made his début at the celebrated Concert Spirituels. He was at once acknowledged as the greatest living violinist, but soon after this he ceased altogether to play in public. This decision seems to have been caused by the fact that an inferior player once achieved a greater success than he. He was evidently of a sensitive nature, and there is an anecdote told of him which is amusing even if its authenticity is open to question. Viotti was commanded to play a concerto at the Court of Louis XVI., at Versailles, and had proceeded through about half of his performance, when the attention of the audience was diverted by the arrival of a distinguished guest. Noise and confusion reigned where silence should have been observed, and Viotti, in a fit of indignation, removed the music from the desk and left the platform.

In 1783 Viotti returned to Italy for a short time, but the following year he was back in Paris teaching, composing, and benefiting the art of music in every way except by public performance. He became the artistic manager of the Italian Opera, and brought together a brilliant number of singers. In this business he came in contact with Cherubini, the composer, with whom he was on great terms of friendship. This enterprise was suddenly stopped by the revolution, and Viotti was obliged to leave France, having lost almost everything that he possessed.

He went to London and renewed his former successes, playing again in public at Salomon's concerts, and in the drawing-rooms of the aristocracy. But here his ill-luck followed him, for London being full of French refugees, and the officials being suspicious of them all, he was warned to leave England, as it was feared that he was connected with some political conspiracy.

This misfortune occurred in 1798, and Viotti retired to a small village called Schoenfeld, not far from Hamburg, where he lived in strict seclusion. During this time he was by no means idle, for he composed some of his finest works, notably the six duets for violins, which he prefaced by these words: "This book is the fruit of leisure afforded me by misfortune. Some of the pieces were dictated by trouble, others by hope." It was also during this period of retirement that he perfected his pupil Pixis, who, with his father, lived at Schoenfeld a whole summer for the express purpose of receiving Viotti's instruction.

In 1801 Viotti found himself at liberty to visit England once more, but when he returned he astonished the world by going into the wine business, in which he succeeded in getting rid of the remainder of his fortune. As a man of business the strictest integrity and honour regulated his transactions, and his feelings were kind and benevolent, whilst as a musician, he is said never to have been surpassed in any of the highest qualities of violin playing.

At the close of his career as a wine merchant, he returned to Paris to resume his regular profession, and was appointed director of the Grand Opéra, but he failed to rescue the opera from its state of decadence, and, finding the duties too arduous for one of his age and state of health, he retired on a small pension. In 1822 he returned once more to England, where he passed the remainder of his life in quietude.

While travelling in Switzerland, and enjoying the beauties of the scenery, Viotti heard for the first time the plaintive notes of the Ranz des Vaches given forth by a mountain horn, and this melody so impressed him that he learned it and frequently played it on his violin. The subject was referred to by him with great enthusiasm in his letters to his friends.

There are numerous anecdotes about Viotti in reference to his ready repartee and to his generous nature. One of the most interesting is that concerning a tin violin. He had been strolling one evening on the Champs Elysées, in Paris, with a friend (Langlé), when his attention was arrested by some harsh, discordant sounds, which, on investigation, proved to be the tones of a tin fiddle, played by a blind and aged street musician. Viotti offered the man twenty francs for the curious instrument, which had been made by the old man's nephew, who was a tinker. Viotti took the instrument and played upon it, producing some most remarkable effects. The performance drew a small crowd, and Langlé, with true instinct, took the old man's hat and, passing it round, collected a respectable sum, which was handed to the aged beggar.

When Viotti got out his purse to give the twenty francs the old man thought better of his bargain, for, said he, "I did not know the violin was so good. I ought to have at least double the amount for it."