Among the above-mentioned galaxy of distinguished talent, the model violinist of the first half of the eighteenth century was Giuseppe Tartini, born at Pirano, in Istria, on the 12th of April, 1692. His early days were beset with difficulties, but having had the opportunity of hearing the celebrated violinist, Veracini, who happened to be at Venice when he was there, his vocation revealed itself. He withdrew to Ancona to practise uninterruptedly; and he applied himself in solitude more especially to the fundamental principle of bow movements, principles which have since served as the basis of every Violin school of Italy and of France. Settled in Padua in 1721, as principal soloist and chapel master of the celebrated church of St. Anthony, he passed forty-nine years of peace and comfort, solely occupied with the labours of his art, and died there on the 16th of February, 1770. In 1728, he established a school in that city, which became famous throughout Europe, and from which issued a multitude of violinists, among whom the following may be cited: Nardini, Pasqualino Bini, Alberghi, Domenico Ferrari, to whom is attributed the invention of harmonic sounds, Carminati, Capuzzi, Madame de Sirmen, and the French violinists, Pagin and La Houssaye. Tartini not only contributed towards perfecting the art of playing the Violin by his compositions for that instrument, but by the pupils he formed. His style is generally elevated; his ideas varied, and his harmony pure without being dry. The number of his published concertos and manuscripts amounts to nearly one hundred and fifty. There are also nearly fifty sonatas of his, among which is his “Sonata del Diavolo,” the anecdote of which is not dissimilar to that told of Paganini. Tartini thus related it:--“One night in 1713, I dreamt that I had entered into a compact with the devil, who was to be at my service. All succeeded to my utmost desires. My wishes were always anticipated, my desires surpassed, by the services of my new domestic. I thought of giving him my Violin, with the view of discovering whether he would play some fine things upon it; but what was my surprise when I heard a sonata so exquisitely beautiful and original, executed with such consummate skill and intelligence, that my deepest conceptions could not find its parallel. Overcome with surprise and pleasure, I lost my breath, which violent sensation awoke me. I instantly seized my Violin in the hope of remembering some portion of what I had heard, but in vain. The piece which this dream suggested, and which I wrote at the time, is doubtless the best of all my compositions, and I still call it “Sonata del Diavolo,” but it sinks so much into insignificance compared with what I heard, that I would have broken my instrument and abandoned music for ever, had my means permitted me to do so.”