AN AUTOMATON VIOLIN PLAYER.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XII, Issue XX, 19 May 1894, Page 462

AN AUTOMATON VIOLIN PLAYER.

In 1840 Galignani gave the following account of this wonderful piece of mechanism on tbe authority of M. Bruyere, who was present at the performance. The work was constructed by Monsieur Mareppe, and exhibited before the Royal Conservatoire of Paris. *On entering the salon,* says Mr Bruyere, * I saw a well-dressed handsome figure of a man, about forty or forty-five, standing with a violin in his hand, as if contemplating a piece of music that lay on a desk before him ; and bad I not gone to see an automaton, I should have believed the object before me to have been a living figure, so easy were the attitude and expression of its countenance. I had but little time for observation ere the orchestra was filled with musicians, and on the leader taking hie seat, the figure instantly raised itself erect, bowed with much elegance two or three times, and then turning to the leader nodded as if to say he was ready, and placed the violin to bis shoulder. At the signal be raised his bow, and applying it to his instrument, produced d la Paganini, one of the most thrilling and extraordinary flourishes I ever heard, in which scarcely a semitone within the compass of the instrument was omitted, and was executed with a degree of rapidity and clearness perfectly astonishing. The orchestra then played a short symphony, in which the figure occasionally joined in beautiful style. He then played a fantasia in E, with accompaniments, with an allegro molto on the fourth string solo which was perfectly indescribable. The tones produced were anything but like those of the violin, aud expressive beyond expression. I felt as if lifted from my seat, and burst into tears, in which predicament I saw many persons in the room. Suddenly he struck into a cadenza, in which the harmonics, double and single, arpeggios on the four strings, and saltos, for which Paganini was so celebrated, were introduced with the neatest effect; and after a close shake of eight bars, commenced the coda, a prestissimo movement, played in three parts throughout; this part of the performance was perfectly magical. I have heard the great Italian, and still greater Norwegian, Ole Bull, I have heard the best of music, but never heard such sounds as then sainted my ear. It began pianissimo, rising by a gradual crescendo to a pitch beyond belief, and then died away, leaving the audience absolutely enchanted. Monsieur Mareppe, who is a player of no mean order, then came forward amidst the most deafening acclamations, and said that, emulated by tbe example of Vaucauson’s flute-player, he had conceived the project of constructing this figure, which had cost him many years of study and labour before he could bring it to completion. He then showed the company the interior of the figure, which was completely filled with small cranks, by which the motions are given to the several parts of the automaton at the will of the conductor, who has the whole machine so perfectly under control that M. Mareppe proposed that it should perform any piece of music which may be laid before him within a fortnight. He also showed that, to a certain extent, the figure was self acting, as, on winding up the strings, several of the most beautiful airs were played, amongst which were “ Nel cor piu,” “ Partant pour la Syrie,” “ Weber’s Last Waltz,” and “La ci Darem la Mano,” all with brilliant embellishments. But the chef d’oeuvre is the manner in which the figure is made to obey the direction of the conductor, whereby it is endowed with a sort of semi raison.’