Jean-Marie Leclair (Jean-Marie Leclair, the Elder) was a French violinist, composer, dancer, lace maker, and teacher born (in Lyon) on May 10, 1697 (Bach was 12 years old.) He is frequently mentioned as having founded the French violin school of violin playing, whatever that may be. His three younger brothers were also musicians. Leclair is now remembered as one of the very, very few violinists who died a violent death – he was assassinated at age 67. The culprit was never found out. He studied dance and violin in Turin but also made a living as a lace or braid maker, his father’s profession. Little is otherwise known about his early years. In 1716, he was a dancer with the Lyons Opera and married a fellow dancer in the same opera company (Marie Rose Casthanie) on the first of February that same year. He was 19 years old. He became a principal dancer with the Turin Opera in 1722. In October of 1723, he returned to Paris – which he had previously visited on and off - and played at the Concerts Spirituel, where he was well-received. He also published his Opus 1, a set of violin sonatas that same year. The publication was sponsored by a wealthy patron (Joseph Bonnier) to whom the works were, understandably, dedicated. In 1726 he again visited Turin where he worked as a dancer and choreographer with the Turin Opera and took violin lessons from Giovanni Battista Somis. In 1728, he returned to Paris. Leclair’s wife died in that year and he remarried in 1730. She (Louise Roussel) was an engraver who, beginning with his Opus 2, published all of Leclair’s works from that point forward. In 1733, he was hired by Louis XV (to whom Leclair dedicated his Opus 3) as a court musician. He gave up that post in 1737 after quarreling with a colleague (someone named Jean-Pierre Guignon, also known as Giovanni Pietro Ghignone.) From 1738 until 1743, he worked three months out of the year at The Hague for the Princess (Anne) of Orange, a former harpsichord pupil of Handel. He dedicated his Opus 9 to her. (Some sources give these years as 1737 to 1742.) In Holland, he also met and probably took lessons from the great (and mysterious) violinist Pietro Locatelli. From 1740 until he died, Leclair worked for the Duke of Gramont as principal violinist and director of his private orchestra, although he spent a few months in Spain in 1743 where he played for some aristocrat called Infante Don Felipe, a fan of French music. Leclair dedicated his Opus 10 to Don Felipe. Although his output was comparatively small, he has on occasion been referred to as the French Corelli, the French Vivaldi, and even the French Bach. He broke up with his wife in 1758 and went to live in an unsavory and dangerous neighborhood in the outskirts of Paris, where he had purchased a small house. He was 61 years old. It has been suggested that the Duke of Gramont would certainly have provided comfortable lodgings for him so the reason he chose these undesirable circumstances for himself remains a mystery. On the morning of October 23, 1764, Leclair’s gardener found him in a pool of blood, dead from three stab wounds in the back. Since the stabbing probably took place the prior evening, his date of death is usually given as October 22, 1764. He was 67 years old. An investigation produced three suspects but nothing was ever proved against anyone. Many consider Leclair the first French violin virtuoso. His best known pupil is probably Pierre Gavinies. Although he composed almost exclusively for the violin, he did write an opera (1746) which is even now occasionally performed. Much of his music is available through numerous recordings. Many of his ballets and works for voice and for the stage were either lost or destroyed by Leclair himself.
Showing posts with label violin mysteries. Show all posts
Showing posts with label violin mysteries. Show all posts
Friday, June 10, 2011
Jean-Marie Leclair
Jean-Marie Leclair (Jean-Marie Leclair, the Elder) was a French violinist, composer, dancer, lace maker, and teacher born (in Lyon) on May 10, 1697 (Bach was 12 years old.) He is frequently mentioned as having founded the French violin school of violin playing, whatever that may be. His three younger brothers were also musicians. Leclair is now remembered as one of the very, very few violinists who died a violent death – he was assassinated at age 67. The culprit was never found out. He studied dance and violin in Turin but also made a living as a lace or braid maker, his father’s profession. Little is otherwise known about his early years. In 1716, he was a dancer with the Lyons Opera and married a fellow dancer in the same opera company (Marie Rose Casthanie) on the first of February that same year. He was 19 years old. He became a principal dancer with the Turin Opera in 1722. In October of 1723, he returned to Paris – which he had previously visited on and off - and played at the Concerts Spirituel, where he was well-received. He also published his Opus 1, a set of violin sonatas that same year. The publication was sponsored by a wealthy patron (Joseph Bonnier) to whom the works were, understandably, dedicated. In 1726 he again visited Turin where he worked as a dancer and choreographer with the Turin Opera and took violin lessons from Giovanni Battista Somis. In 1728, he returned to Paris. Leclair’s wife died in that year and he remarried in 1730. She (Louise Roussel) was an engraver who, beginning with his Opus 2, published all of Leclair’s works from that point forward. In 1733, he was hired by Louis XV (to whom Leclair dedicated his Opus 3) as a court musician. He gave up that post in 1737 after quarreling with a colleague (someone named Jean-Pierre Guignon, also known as Giovanni Pietro Ghignone.) From 1738 until 1743, he worked three months out of the year at The Hague for the Princess (Anne) of Orange, a former harpsichord pupil of Handel. He dedicated his Opus 9 to her. (Some sources give these years as 1737 to 1742.) In Holland, he also met and probably took lessons from the great (and mysterious) violinist Pietro Locatelli. From 1740 until he died, Leclair worked for the Duke of Gramont as principal violinist and director of his private orchestra, although he spent a few months in Spain in 1743 where he played for some aristocrat called Infante Don Felipe, a fan of French music. Leclair dedicated his Opus 10 to Don Felipe. Although his output was comparatively small, he has on occasion been referred to as the French Corelli, the French Vivaldi, and even the French Bach. He broke up with his wife in 1758 and went to live in an unsavory and dangerous neighborhood in the outskirts of Paris, where he had purchased a small house. He was 61 years old. It has been suggested that the Duke of Gramont would certainly have provided comfortable lodgings for him so the reason he chose these undesirable circumstances for himself remains a mystery. On the morning of October 23, 1764, Leclair’s gardener found him in a pool of blood, dead from three stab wounds in the back. Since the stabbing probably took place the prior evening, his date of death is usually given as October 22, 1764. He was 67 years old. An investigation produced three suspects but nothing was ever proved against anyone. Many consider Leclair the first French violin virtuoso. His best known pupil is probably Pierre Gavinies. Although he composed almost exclusively for the violin, he did write an opera (1746) which is even now occasionally performed. Much of his music is available through numerous recordings. Many of his ballets and works for voice and for the stage were either lost or destroyed by Leclair himself. 
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Alison Whalen's mystery
Alison Whalen, violinist, cellist, and painter, recently sent me this story and I am very pleased to pass it along (almost) verbatim. The violin shown here is the subject of this fascinating mystery.
“I was born and raised in Buffalo, New York, but I've been living in California for the last three decades. Several years ago, my dad was diagnosed with cancer, and I moved back to Buffalo for four months to be with him during his last days. One Sunday morning after his hospice nurse arrived, I decided to take the morning off, and headed over to my favorite old haunt, the local flea market. While en route, I suddenly remembered a dealer there from whom I used to buy wonderful paintings many years ago, and I decided to look for him on the off chance that he might still be doing business at that flea market. Amazingly, I found him, still in the same location, and I saw that he had three violins in his booth. The first two were nothing special, but when I opened the lid of the third case, I found an instrument with a beautifully timeworn patina. Even though the inner label was long gone, I got that special little zingy chill that told me I'd found a treasure. Her tailpiece was inlaid with a mother-of-pearl bird on a branch, and when I turned her over, I was surprised to see my initials - A.W. - carved into her back. I took the bow to her, and the tone that emerged was dark and rich like melted chocolate. After awakening from a long hibernation, she had quite a bit to say, and I fell instantly in love with her.
After a bit of half-hearted haggling, I wrote a check and took her home, excited to show my dad what I'd found. We were sitting on the couch, and as I passed the violin to him, I noticed more carving along the reverse upper bout that I hadn't previously seen. Closer examination revealed the name 'A. Whalen.' My first initial and my last name!
Some folks may write this off as mere coincidence, but as a firm believer in the threads that guide us through our destiny, I know better. 2500 miles from my home, this violin was waiting for me. A whim directed me to a favorite flea market where I searched for and found a dealer whom I hadn't seen in 10 years, and he just happened to have a violin bearing carvings of my initials and my name. This connection was meant to happen. This violin perfectly suits my playing style. The minor keys reveal her soul, and it's as though she's always a hair ahead of me, somehow intuitively knowing exactly what I'm trying to express, no matter what I'm playing. I call her my gypsy girl, my serendipity. She may not be worth a fortune at auction, but to me, she's priceless. By the way, my dad was a professional magician. He used to tell me that I had magic in my DNA, and that my life would be filled with unusual occurrences with no logical explanation. I'm glad that he and I had the chance to share this special one. He passed away two weeks later. “
Saturday, January 15, 2011
The Strange Case of Joseph Tang
On the evening of November 28, 2007, Joseph Tang, twenty-something Canadian violinist, played a concert (featuring some of Beethoven's most heroic music) at Beall Hall in Eugene, Oregon. When he got done, he was arrested backstage, though not for playing out of tune or playing too many wrong notes. Tang, a sometime student at San Francisco State University and the University of Oregon, was arrested on federal fraud charges for cheating several violin collectors and dealers out of thousands of dollars in the sale of violins from April, 2002 through December, 2006 – ten counts in all. Each count carried a maximum 20-year sentence – a total of 200 years. There were actually more victims involved than those of record but several dealers and buyers could not press charges because there was no documentation for their transactions. Some of San Francisco’s well-known violin dealers were among those strung along by Tang, as well as people from as far away as Japan, Germany, England, and Sweden. A single collector (who should remain anonymous) lost close to $150,000, according to his own estimate. For centuries, in the violin trade, dealers, buyers, and brokers, when engaged in a potential sale, have trusted each other implicitly and violins have been borrowed, lent, and played without so much as a tiny, dated receipt changing hands. So it went with Tang. He accepted many instruments on consignment (bows, too), sold them, and ran with the money. It took one irate client to bring Tang down. The instrument in question was a cheap, $1,250 violin. The victim was a retired police officer who wanted the violin for his little daughter. The officer said the violin was not what Tang claimed it was. He wanted his money back but Tang ignored him then disappeared. The officer complained to the U.S. postal inspector. The inspector investigated then pressed charges. After making a court appearance, Tang was released on bail. Many people claimed he actually stole more than a million dollars, though most of it (of course) could not be substantiated. A retired math professor who invested all of his savings in violin acquisitions claimed Tang took everything he had. Some time later (2008), Tang pled guilty and was sentenced to 37 months in jail and ordered to pay more than $400,000. He is due out in November, 2011. (to be continued)
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