47.—THE DEVIL'S TRILL.
Tartini was one of the greatest violinists of the last century. He was born at Pirano, in 1692. His parents were determined that he should enter the priesthood, but being unsuccessful in turning the lad that way, persuaded him to study law.
His secret marriage with a beautiful girl being discovered, he had to take flight. Finding refuge in a monastery, he remained there for some time, till he was discovered by a former acquaintance. His whereabouts being reported to the irate parents and a reconciliation being effected, he returned to his young wife, and, making his home at Padua, took up the study of the violin. He became famous in the musical world, and was besought by other countries to visit them that they might hear his wonderful playing, but he could not be tempted to leave his native soil.
The following story, concerning the composition entitled "Il Trillo del Diavolo," was told by Tartini himself:—
One night, in the year 1713, while Tartini was yet a young man, he had a most surprising and realistic dream. He dreamed he had made a compact with his satanic majesty, by the terms of which the gentleman with the cloven hoof was, contrary to the usual order of things, always to be at the service of the violinist. After some little time spent in getting acquainted, Tartini handed his violin to his new servant to find out what kind of a fiddler he was; when, to Tartini's utter astonishment, he heard a solo so beautiful, so bewitching, and played with such skill and taste, that it surpassed all the playing that he had ever heard in his life.
Just at this interesting point in the affair, Tartini awoke. Filled with the memory of the beautiful playing he had heard in his dream, he hastened to his instrument, and in his excitement and delight he tried to reproduce some of the strains that fell from the Mephistophelian bow. But, alas, the devil was to pay! for the devil was gone and his music with him.
Nevertheless, Tartini, inspired by the memory of the dream music, took pen and paper, and composed this sonata called "The Devil's Trill."
He declared it to be far inferior to what he heard in his dream; but be that as it may, it certainly excelled in value any other composition that he wrote in the sober moments of daylight, and uninspired by diabolical compact.