[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
For no sooner was the curtain of sleep raised from his eyes than he would sally forth into a new magic realm
of day-dreams. On his way to some dark and solemn pine-forest, he played incessantly, to himself and to
everything else. He fiddled to the green hill, and forthwith the mountain and the moss-covered rocks moved
forward to hear him the better, as they had done at the sound of the Orphean lyre. He fiddled to the
merry-voiced brook, to the hurrying river, and both slakened their speed and stopped their waves, and,
becoming silent seemed to listen to him in an entranced rapture. Even the long-legged stork who stood
meditatively on one leg on the thatched top of the rustic mill, gravely resolving unto himself the problem of
his too-long existence, sent out after him a long and strident cry, screeching, "Art thou Orpheus himself, O
Stenio?"
It was a period of full bliss, of a daily and almost hourly exaltation. The last words of his dying mother,
whispering to him of the horrors of eternal condemnation, had left him unaffected, and the only vision her
warning evoked in him was that of Pluto. By a ready association of ideas, he saw the lord of the dark nether
kingdom greeting him as he had greeted the husband of Eurydice before him. Charmed with the magic
sounds of his violin, the wheel of Ixion was at a standstill once more, thus affording relief to the wretched
seducer of Juno, and giving the lie to those who claim eternity for the duration of the punishment of
condemned sinners. He perceived Tantalus forgetting his never-ceasing thirst, and smacking his lips as he
drank in the heaven-born melody; the stone of Sisyphus becoming motionless, the Furies themselves smiling
on him, and the sovereign of the gloomy regions delighted, and awarding preference to his violin over the
lyre of Orpheus. Taken au serieux, mythology thus seems a decided antidote to fear, in the face of theological
threats, especially when strengthened with an insane and passionate love of music, with Franz, Euterpe
proved always victorious in every contest, aye, even with Hell itself!
But there is an end to everything, and very soon Franz had to give up uninterrupted dreaming. He had reached
the university town where dwelt his old violin teacher, Samuel Klaus. When this antiquated musician found
that his beloved and favourite pupil, Franz, had been left poor in purse and still poorer in earthly affections,
he felt his strong attachment to the boy awaken with tenfold force. He took Franz to his heart, and forthwith
adopted him as his son.
The old teacher reminded people of one of those grotesque figures which look as if they had just stepped out
of some mediaeval panel. And yet Klaus, with his fantastic allures of a night-goblin, had the most loving
heart, as tender as that of a woman, and the self-sacrificing nature of an old Christian martyr. When Franz
had briefly narrated to him the history of his last few years, the professor took him by the hand, and leading
him into his study simply said:
"Stop with me, and put an end to your Bohemian life. Make yourself famous. I am old and childless and will
be your father. Let us live together and forget all save fame."
And forthwith he offered to proceed with Franz to Paris, via several large German cities, where they would
stop to give concerts.
In a few days Klaus succeeded in making Franz forget his vagrant life and its artistic independence, and
reawakened in his pupil his now dormant ambition and desire for worldly fame. Hitherto, since his mother's
THE ENSOULED VIOLIN 64
Nightmare Tales
death, he had been content to receive applause only from the Gods and Goddesses who inhabited his vivid
fancy; now he began to crave once more for the admiration of mortals. Under the clever and careful training
of old Klaus his remarkable talent gained in strength and powerful charm with every day, and his reputation
grew and expanded with every city and town wherein he made himself heard. His ambition was being rapidly
realized; the presiding genii of various musical centres to whose patronage his talent was submitted soon
proclaimed him the one violinist of the day, and the public declared loudly that he stood unrivalled by any
one whom they had ever heard. These laudations very soon made both master and pupil completely lose their
heads.
But Paris was less ready with such appreciation. Paris makes reputations for itself, and will take none on
faith. They had been living in it for almost three years, and were still climbing with difficulty the artist's
Calvary, when an event occured which put an end even to their most modest expectations. The first arrival of
Niccolo Paganini was suddenly heralded, and threw Lutetia into a convulsion of expectation. The unparallel
artist arrived, and -- all Paris fell at once at his feet.
II
Now it is a well-known fact that a superstition born in the dark days of mediaeval superstition, and surviving
almost to the middle of the present century, attributed all such abnormal, out-of-the-way talent as that of
Paganini to "supernatural" agency. Every great and marvellous artist had been accused in his day of dealings
with the devil. A few instances will suffice to refresh the reader's memory.
Tartini, the great composer and violinist of the XVIIth century, was denounced as one who got his best
inspirations from the Evil One, with whom he was, it was said, in regular league. This accusation was of
course due to the almost magical impression he produced upon his audiences. His inspired performance on
the violin secured for him in his native country the title of "Master of Nations." The Sonate du Diable, also
called "Tartini's Dream" -- as every one who has heard it will be ready to testify -- is the most weird [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
For no sooner was the curtain of sleep raised from his eyes than he would sally forth into a new magic realm
of day-dreams. On his way to some dark and solemn pine-forest, he played incessantly, to himself and to
everything else. He fiddled to the green hill, and forthwith the mountain and the moss-covered rocks moved
forward to hear him the better, as they had done at the sound of the Orphean lyre. He fiddled to the
merry-voiced brook, to the hurrying river, and both slakened their speed and stopped their waves, and,
becoming silent seemed to listen to him in an entranced rapture. Even the long-legged stork who stood
meditatively on one leg on the thatched top of the rustic mill, gravely resolving unto himself the problem of
his too-long existence, sent out after him a long and strident cry, screeching, "Art thou Orpheus himself, O
Stenio?"
It was a period of full bliss, of a daily and almost hourly exaltation. The last words of his dying mother,
whispering to him of the horrors of eternal condemnation, had left him unaffected, and the only vision her
warning evoked in him was that of Pluto. By a ready association of ideas, he saw the lord of the dark nether
kingdom greeting him as he had greeted the husband of Eurydice before him. Charmed with the magic
sounds of his violin, the wheel of Ixion was at a standstill once more, thus affording relief to the wretched
seducer of Juno, and giving the lie to those who claim eternity for the duration of the punishment of
condemned sinners. He perceived Tantalus forgetting his never-ceasing thirst, and smacking his lips as he
drank in the heaven-born melody; the stone of Sisyphus becoming motionless, the Furies themselves smiling
on him, and the sovereign of the gloomy regions delighted, and awarding preference to his violin over the
lyre of Orpheus. Taken au serieux, mythology thus seems a decided antidote to fear, in the face of theological
threats, especially when strengthened with an insane and passionate love of music, with Franz, Euterpe
proved always victorious in every contest, aye, even with Hell itself!
But there is an end to everything, and very soon Franz had to give up uninterrupted dreaming. He had reached
the university town where dwelt his old violin teacher, Samuel Klaus. When this antiquated musician found
that his beloved and favourite pupil, Franz, had been left poor in purse and still poorer in earthly affections,
he felt his strong attachment to the boy awaken with tenfold force. He took Franz to his heart, and forthwith
adopted him as his son.
The old teacher reminded people of one of those grotesque figures which look as if they had just stepped out
of some mediaeval panel. And yet Klaus, with his fantastic allures of a night-goblin, had the most loving
heart, as tender as that of a woman, and the self-sacrificing nature of an old Christian martyr. When Franz
had briefly narrated to him the history of his last few years, the professor took him by the hand, and leading
him into his study simply said:
"Stop with me, and put an end to your Bohemian life. Make yourself famous. I am old and childless and will
be your father. Let us live together and forget all save fame."
And forthwith he offered to proceed with Franz to Paris, via several large German cities, where they would
stop to give concerts.
In a few days Klaus succeeded in making Franz forget his vagrant life and its artistic independence, and
reawakened in his pupil his now dormant ambition and desire for worldly fame. Hitherto, since his mother's
THE ENSOULED VIOLIN 64
Nightmare Tales
death, he had been content to receive applause only from the Gods and Goddesses who inhabited his vivid
fancy; now he began to crave once more for the admiration of mortals. Under the clever and careful training
of old Klaus his remarkable talent gained in strength and powerful charm with every day, and his reputation
grew and expanded with every city and town wherein he made himself heard. His ambition was being rapidly
realized; the presiding genii of various musical centres to whose patronage his talent was submitted soon
proclaimed him the one violinist of the day, and the public declared loudly that he stood unrivalled by any
one whom they had ever heard. These laudations very soon made both master and pupil completely lose their
heads.
But Paris was less ready with such appreciation. Paris makes reputations for itself, and will take none on
faith. They had been living in it for almost three years, and were still climbing with difficulty the artist's
Calvary, when an event occured which put an end even to their most modest expectations. The first arrival of
Niccolo Paganini was suddenly heralded, and threw Lutetia into a convulsion of expectation. The unparallel
artist arrived, and -- all Paris fell at once at his feet.
II
Now it is a well-known fact that a superstition born in the dark days of mediaeval superstition, and surviving
almost to the middle of the present century, attributed all such abnormal, out-of-the-way talent as that of
Paganini to "supernatural" agency. Every great and marvellous artist had been accused in his day of dealings
with the devil. A few instances will suffice to refresh the reader's memory.
Tartini, the great composer and violinist of the XVIIth century, was denounced as one who got his best
inspirations from the Evil One, with whom he was, it was said, in regular league. This accusation was of
course due to the almost magical impression he produced upon his audiences. His inspired performance on
the violin secured for him in his native country the title of "Master of Nations." The Sonate du Diable, also
called "Tartini's Dream" -- as every one who has heard it will be ready to testify -- is the most weird [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]