Chapter II: Part 2

Nicolo Paganini.

Genius--talent, whatever its extent--cannot always count upon popularity. Susceptibility of the highest conceptions of the most sublime creations, frequently fail in securing the attention of the multitude. How is this most coveted point to be attained? It would be difficult to arrive at any precise conclusion, from the fact that it applies to matters totally differing from each other; it is, however, perhaps possible to define the aggregation of qualities required to move the public in masses, by calling it “sympathetic wonderment.” Fortunate boldness is its characteristic mark; originality its absolute condition. The most renowned popularities of the nineteenth century have each differed in their specialty,--Napoleon Bonaparte, Rossini, and Paganini. Many other names, doubtless, recall talents of the finest order, and personalities of the highest value; yet, notwithstanding their having been duly appreciated by the intelligent and enlightened classes, they have not called forth those outbursts of enthusiasm which have been manifested towards others during an entire generation. The truly popular name appears surrounded by its prestige, even to the lowest degrees of the social scale; such was the case with the prodigious artist who is the object of this notice.

Nicolo Paganini, the most extraordinary--the most renowned violinist of the nineteenth century--was born on February the 18th, 1784. His father, Antonio Paganini, a commercial broker, or simply a broker’s clerk, according to some biographers, was passionately fond of music, and played upon the mandoline. His penetration soon discovered the aptitude of his son for this art. He resolved that study should develope it. His excessive severity would have probably led to results contrary to those he expected, had not the younger Paganini been endowed with the firm determination of becoming an artist. From the age of six years he was a musician, and played the Violin. The lessons he received from his father, as may be presumed, were not given in the most gentle manner. The ill-treatment to which he was subjected during this period of his youth, appears to have exercised a fatal influence upon his nervous and delicate constitution. From his first attempts he was imbued with the disposition to execute feats of strength and agility upon his instrument. His instinct urged him to attempt the most extraordinary things; his precocious skill exciting the astonishment of his young friends. His confidence in the future was not to be shaken, from the fact of his mother saying to him one day, “My son, you will be a great musician. An angel, radiant with beauty, appeared to me during the night, and, addressing me, spoke thus: ‘If thou wouldst proffer a wish, it shall be accomplished.’ I asked that you should become the greatest of all violinists, and the angel promised the fulfilment of my desire.”

His father’s lessons soon became useless, and Servetto, a musician of the theatre, at Genoa, became his teacher; but even he was not possessed of sufficient ability to be of benefit to this predestined artist. Paganini received his instructions for a short period only, and he was placed under Giacomo Costa, director of music, and principal violinist to the churches of Genoa, under whose care he progressed rapidly. He had now attained his eighth year, when he wrote his first sonata, which he unfortunately took no care of, and has been lost among many other of his productions. His countryman, Gnecco, a distinguished composer, encouraged the visits of the boy, and tendered counsel which doubtless aided him materially in his progress. Costa only gave him lessons for six months, during which period he obliged his pupil to play in the churches. But the master’s instructions were not at all satisfactory to the pupil, who had already conceived a method of fingering and bowing.

Having reached his ninth year, the young _virtuoso_ appeared in public, for the first time, in a concert at the large theatre of his native town, given by the excellent soprano Marchesi, with the vocalist Albertinatti. These two artists sang subsequently at a concert for Paganini’s benefit, and in both these instances this extraordinary child played variations of his own composition on the French air, “la Carmagnole,” amid the frenzied acclamations of an enthusiastic audience. About this period of his life the father was advised, by judicious friends, to place the boy under good masters of the Violin and composition; and he shortly after took him to Parma, where Alexandro Rolla then resided, so celebrated for his performance, as conductor of the orchestra, and as a composer. Paganini was now twelve years of age. The following anecdote, related by M. Schottky, and which Paganini published in a Vienna journal, furnishes interesting details of the master’s first interview with the young artist:--“On arriving at Rolla’s house, he said, we found him ill, and in bed. His wife conducted us into a room adjoining the one where the sick man lay, in order to concert with her husband, who, it appeared, was not at all disposed to receive us. Perceiving upon the table of the chamber into which we were ushered a Violin, and the last concerto of Rolla, I took up the Violin and played the piece at first sight. Surprised at what he heard, the composer inquired the name of the _virtuoso_ he had just heard. When he heard it was only a mere lad, he would not give credence to the fact unless by ocular demonstration. Thus satisfied, he told me, that he could teach me nothing, and recommended me to take lessons in composition from Paër.” The evident desire evinced by Paganini to refute the supposition of his having received lessons from Rolla, is a singularity difficult to account for. Gervasoni, who knew him at Parma at this period, affirms[C] that he was the pupil of Rolla for several months. However, it was not Paër, then in Germany, who taught Paganini harmony and counterpoint, but Ghiretti, who had directed the studies of Paër himself. During six months this precocious artist received three lessons weekly, and specially applied himself to the study of instrumentation. Even now Paganini was occupied in discovering new effects on his instrument. Frequent discussions took place between him and Rolla on the innovations which the young artist contemplated, and which he could, at this period, only execute imperfectly, whilst the severe taste of his master deprecated these bold attempts, except for the sake of occasional effects. It was, however, only after his return to Genoa, that Paganini wrote his first compositions for the Violin. This music was so difficult that he was obliged to study it himself with increasing perseverance, and to make constant efforts to solve problems unknown to all other violinists. He was seen to have tried the same passage in a thousand different ways during ten or twelve hours, and to be completely overwhelmed with fatigue at the end of the day. It is by this unexampled perseverance that he overcame difficulties which were considered insurmountable by contemporary artists, when he published a specimen in the shape of a collection of studies.

Quitting Parma, at the commencement of 1797, Paganini made his first professional tour with his father through all the principal towns in Lombardy, and commenced a reputation which increased daily from that period. On his return to Genoa, and after having, in solitude, made the efforts necessary for the development of his talent, he began to feel the weight of the chain by which he was held by his father, and determined to release himself from the ill-treatment to which he was still subjected under the paternal roof. His artistic soul revolted at this degrading slavery, and felt that some respect was due to him. A favourable opportunity alone was required to execute his design. This soon presented itself. The fête of St. Martin was celebrated annually at Lucca by a musical festival, to which persons flocked from every part of Italy. As this period approached, Paganini entreated his father to permit him to attend it, accompanied by his elder brother. His demand was at first met with a peremptory refusal; but the solicitations of the son, and the prayers of the mother, finally prevailed, and the heart of the young artist, at liberty for the first time, bounded with joy and he set out agitated by dreams of success and happiness. At Lucca he was received with enthusiasm. Encouraged by this propitious débût, he visited Pisa, and some other towns, in all of which his success was unequivocal. The year 1799 had just commenced, and Paganini had not attained his fifteenth year. This is not the age of prudence. His moral education had been grossly neglected, and the severity which assailed his more youthful years, was not calculated to awaken him to the dangers of a life of freedom. Freed from restraint, and relishing the delights of his new-born independence, he formed connections with other artists, whose sole abilities seemed to consist in encouraging a taste for gambling in young men of family and means, and turning the tables upon them to their own advantage. Paganini, in this manner, frequently lost the produce of several concerts in one night, and was consequently often in a state of great embarrassment. His talent soon procured fresh resources, and time passed gaily enough, alternately between good and bad fortune. He was frequently reduced, by distress, to part with his Violin. In this condition he found himself at Leghorn, and was indebted to the kindness of a French merchant, (M. Livron), a distinguished amateur, for the loan of a Violin, an excellent Guarnieri. When the concert had concluded, Paganini brought it back to its owner, when this gentleman exclaimed, “Never will I profane strings which your fingers have touched; that instrument is now yours.” This is the Violin Paganini afterwards used in all his concerts. A similar event occurred to him at Parma, but under different circumstances. Pasini, an eminent painter, and an excellent amateur performer on the Violin, had disbelieved the prodigious faculty imputed to Paganini, of playing the most difficult music at first sight, as well as if he had maturely studied it. He brought him a manuscript concerto, containing the most difficult passages, imagined almost by every performer as insurmountable, and placing in his hands an excellent instrument of Stradiuari, added, “This instrument shall be yours, if you can play, in a masterly manner, that concerto at first sight.” “If that is the case,” replied Paganini, “you may bid adieu to it,” and he forthwith, by his exquisite performance of the piece, threw Pasini into extatic admiration.

Adventures of every kind characterise this period of Paganini’s early days; the enthusiasm of art, love, and gambling, divided his time, despite the warnings of a delicate constitution, which proclaimed the necessity of great care. Heedless of everything, he continued his career of dissipation, until the prostration of all his faculties forced a respite. He would then lie up for several weeks, in a state of absolute repose, until, with refreshed energies, he recommenced his artistic career and wandering life. Unexpected resources occasionally relieved him from positive poverty. In this position, at seventeen years of age, being at Leghorn, in 1801, he became acquainted with a wealthy Swedish amateur, whose favourite instrument was the bassoon. Complaining that he could meet with no music for his instrument, sufficiently difficult for his talent, Paganini provided him with compositions almost impracticable, for which he was richly rewarded. It was to be feared that this dissolute life would ultimately deprive the world of his marvellous talent, when an unforeseen and important circumstance, related by himself, ended his fatal passion for gambling.

“I shall never forget,” he said, “that I one day, placed myself in a position which was to decide my future. The Prince of ---- had, for some time, coveted the possession of my Violin--the only one I possessed at that period, and which I still have. He, on one particular occasion, was extremely anxious that I should mention the sum for which I would dispose of it; but not wishing to part with my instrument, I declared I would not sell it for 250 gold napoleons. Some time after the Prince said to me that I was, doubtless, only speaking in jest in asking such a sum, but that he would be willing to give me 2,000 francs. I was, at this moment, in the greatest want of money to meet a debt of honour I had incurred at play, and was almost tempted to accept the proffered amount, when I received an invitation to a party that evening at a friend’s house. All my capital consisted of thirty francs, as I had disposed of all my jewels, watch, rings, and brooches, &c. I resolved on risking this last resource; and, if fortune proved fickle, to sell my Violin to the Prince and to proceed to St. Petersburg, without instrument or luggage, with the view of re-establishing my affairs; my thirty francs were reduced to three, and I fancied myself on the road to Russia, when suddenly my fortune took a sudden turn; and, with the small remains of my capital I won 160 francs. This amount saved my Violin, and completely set me up. From that day I abjured gambling--to which I had sacrificed part of my youth--convinced that a gamester is an object of contempt to all well-regulated minds.”

Although he was still in the prime of youth, Paganini knew of nothing but success and profit, when, during one of those hallucinations to which all great artists are subject, the Violin lost its attractions in his eyes. A lady of rank having fallen desperately in love with him, and the feeling being reciprocated, he withdrew with her to an estate she possessed in Tuscany.[D] This lady played the Guitar, and Paganini imbibed a taste for that instrument, and applied himself as sedulously to its practice as he had formerly done with the Violin. He soon discovered new resources, which he imparted to his friend; and during a period of three years, he devoted all the energies of his mind to its study, and to agricultural pursuits, for which the lady’s estate afforded him ample opportunities. It was at this period he wrote his two sonatas for Guitar and Violin, which form his second and third works.

Love cools with time in a castle as in a cottage. Paganini discovered this; all his former penchant for the Violin returned, and he decided on resuming his travels. On his return to Genoa, in 1804, he occupied himself solely with composition, and wrote here his fourth work which consists of four grand quartetts for Violin, Viol, Guitar, and Violoncello; and bravura variations for Violin, on an original theme, with Guitar accompaniment, which forms his fifth work. It appears too, that at this period he gave instruction on the Violin to Catarina Calcagno,[E] born at Genoa, in 1797, who, at the age of fifteen, astounded Italy by the boldness of her style. All traces of her seem lost after 1816. Towards the middle of 1805, Paganini left Genoa, to undertake a new tour in Italy. The first town he visited was Lucca, the scene of his first successes. Here he again created so great a sensation by a concerto he performed at a nocturnal festival in a convent chapel, that the monks were obliged to leave their stalls, in order to repress the applause which burst forth despite the sanctity of the place. He was then twenty-one years of age. The principality of Lucca and Piombino had been organised in the month of March, of the same year, in favour of the Princess Eliza, sister of Napoleon, and the wife of Prince Bacciochi. The Court had fixed its residence in the town of Lucca. The great reputation of the violinist induced the Princess to offer him the posts of director of her private music, and conductor of the opera orchestra. Notwithstanding his propensity for independence of action, and although the emoluments were scanty, the position pleased him, and he accepted it. The Prince Bacciochi received instruction from him on the Violin. The Princess, who had appreciated the originality of his talent, induced him to extend his discoveries of novel effects upon the instrument. To convince him of the interest he had inspired her with, she granted him the grade of captain in the royal gendarmerie, so that he might be admitted with his brilliant costume to all the great Court receptions. Paganini added many novelties to those which characterised his talent. Thus, seeking to vary the effect of his instrument at the Court concerts, where it was his duty to play, he removed the second and third strings, and composed a dialogue for the first and fourth strings. He has related this circumstance himself nearly in these terms:--

“At Lucca I directed the orchestra when the reigning family honoured the opera with their presence. I was often called upon to play at Court: and then, I organised fortnightly concerts. The Princess Eliza always withdrew before the termination, as my harmonic sounds irritated her nerves. A lady, whom I had long loved without having avowed my passion, attended the concerts with great regularity. I fancied I perceived that I was the object of her assiduous visits. Insensibly our mutual passion increased; but important motives rendered prudence and mystery necessary; our love in consequence became more violent. I had promised her, on one occasion, that, at the following concert, I would introduce a musical piece which should bear allusion to our relative positions; and I announced to the Court a novelty under the title of “Scène amoureuse.” Curiosity rose to the highest pitch; but the surprise of all present at Court was extreme, when I entered the saloon with a Violin with only two strings. I had only retained the first and the fourth. The former was to express the sentiments of a young girl, the other was to express the passionate language of a lover. I had composed a kind of dialogue, in which the most tender accents followed the outbursts of jealousy. At one time, chords representing most tender appeals, at another, plaintive reproaches; cries of joy and anger, felicity and pain. Then followed the reconciliation; and the lovers, more persuaded than ever, executed a _pas de deux_, which terminated in a brilliant coda. This novelty was eminently successful. I do not speak of the languishing looks which the goddess of my thoughts darted at me. The Princess Eliza lauded me to the skies; and said to me in the most gracious manner possible, ‘You have just performed impossibilities; would not a single string suffice for your talent?’ I promised to make the attempt. The idea delighted me; and, some weeks after, I composed my military sonata, entitled “Napoleon,” which I performed on the 25th of August, before a numerous and brilliant Court. Its success far surpassed my expectations. My predilection for the G string dates from this period. All I wrote for this string was received with enthusiasm, and I daily acquired greater facility upon it: hence I obtained the mastery of it, which you know, and should no longer surprise you.”

In the summer of 1808, Paganini obtained leave to travel, and quitted Lucca, never more to return. As the sister of Napoleon had become Grand Duchess of Tuscany, she fixed her residence at Florence, with all her Court, where the great artist retained his position.[F] He went to Leghorn, where, seven years previously, he had met with so much success. Here he was not received with the warmth extended to him on his former visit; but his talent soon overcame the coldness evinced towards him. He has related, with much humour, a series of tribulations which happened to him upon the occasion of his first concert there. “A nail,” he said, “had run into my heel, and I came on limping, at which the audience laughed. At the moment I was about to commence my concerto, the candles of my desk fell out. (Another laugh.) At the end of the first few bars of the solo, my first string broke, which increased the hilarity of the audience, but I played the piece on the three strings--and the grins quickly changed into acclamations of applause.” The broken string frequently occurred afterwards; and Paganini has been accused of using it as a means of success, having previously practised upon the three strings, pieces which appear to require the use of the first also.

From Leghorn he went to Turin, where the Princess Pauline Borghese, sister of Napoleon, the Prince, her husband, and suite, were sojourning. Blangini, then attached to the service of the Princess as director of music (1808 or 1809), there heard the illustrious violinist at several concerts; and spoke of him to me, on his return to Paris, with unbounded admiration. It was at Turin that Paganini was first attacked with internal inflammation, which subsequently so debilitated his health, as frequently to cause long interruptions to his travels, and his series of concerts. He was nearly convalescent, when he was recalled to the Court of Florence, in the month of October, 1809, for the concerts which were to be given on the occasion of peace between France and Austria. It was at this period that my friend, the celebrated sculptor, Bartolini, executed a bust of Paganini, which I saw in his studio at Florence, in 1841. An excellent work by M. Conestabile, which has just appeared, and which only reached me a few days ago,[G] furnishes me with information as to the manner Paganini was employed in 1810. It will be found (p. 58) that he must have left Florence about December, 1809, to visit Romagna and Lombardy; that he gave concerts at the old theatre of Cesena; that he afterwards produced an extraordinary sensation at a concert given at Rimini, the 22nd of January, 1810. This information was extracted by M. Conestabile, from manuscript memoirs by M. Giangi, an amateur composer, relating to the town of Rimini. It is probable he afterwards visited the other cities of Central Italy, Ravenna, Forli, Imola, and Faenza; but this is not certain. It appears also about the same period he met with an adventure at Ferrara that nearly cost him his life. He had gone to Bologna with a friend, and purposed giving some concerts there. Arrangements were already made with the manager, and rehearsals appointed, when, at the moment the rehearsal was about to commence, Marcolini, who was to sing at the concert, capriciously refused to do so. Disconcerted by this _contretemps_, Paganini sought the aid of Madame Pallerini, the principal dancer of the theatre, but who possessed a most agreeable voice, which she only cultivated for herself and her friends. Vanquished by the solicitations of the great violinist, she consented to sing at the concert; but when she presented herself to the public, fear overpowered her--she sang with timidity--and when she retired, encouraged by the kind applause which rewarded her efforts, a piercing hiss was heard. Maddened with rage, Paganini vowed to avenge this outrage at the end of the concert. As he was about to commence his last solo, he announced to the public that he purposed imitating the notes and cries of various animals. After having imitated the chirping of certain birds, cock-crowing, the mewing of a cat, and the barking of a dog, he advanced to the footlights, and while imitating the braying of an ass, he called out “This for the men who hissed” (Questo è per quelli che han fischiato!) He was convinced this repartee would excite laughter, and the hissers be hooted; but the pit rose to a man, vociferating, and rushing forward to the orchestra, which they literally scaled. Paganini had only time to escape, by hasty flight, the dangers that menaced him. It was only after he was safely at home, that he learned the cause of this fearful tumult. He was told that the peasantry in the suburbs of Ferrara entertain peculiar ill feelings towards the residents of that town--considering them as a community of idiots, and compare them to asses. Hence, any resident of the suburb, if questioned from whence he came, never admits it is from Ferrara, but vociferates a vigorous hee-haw. The audience present at Paganini’s concert considered this a personal allusion to themselves; the result was, that the authorities withdrew their permission and prohibited the continuation of his concerts. Since then, Paganini was never heard again at Ferrara.

Gervasoni relates[H] that on the 16th of August, 1811, Paganini gave a concert at Parma, at which he produced an immense sensation, both upon artists and amateurs, particularly in his variations on the fourth string. It would appear that from Parma he returned to his duties at the Court of Florence. Here he probably remained during the year 1812, for no information of him in other places, during this period, is met with. He was, there can be little doubt, obliged to return occasionally to the capital of Tuscany to fulfil his duties. Here, about the end of 1812, or the commencement of 1813, occurred the adventure which obliged him suddenly to quit the service of the Grand Duchess, and leave the town. This adventure had been certified to M. Conestabile by ocular witnesses, in nearly the following terms:--At a grand Court gala, where a concert preceded a ball, Paganini, who directed the former, and was to have performed, appeared in the orchestra in his uniform of captain of the royal gendarmerie. The Princess, as soon as she perceived this, sent her commands that the uniform was to be replaced by evening dress. He replied that his commission allowed him to wear the uniform, and refused to change it. The command was repeated during the concert and again met with refusal; and to prove that he defied the orders of the Grand Duchess, he appeared at the ball in his uniform. Moreover, in order to show that he did not care what might be thought of the insult proffered to him, he walked up and down the room after the ball had commenced. Nevertheless, convinced that although reason and right were both in his favour, absolutism prevailed at Court, and his defiance might endanger his liberty, he quitted Florence during the night, and directed his steps towards Lombardy. The most tempting offers, and the promise of the Grand Duchess’s leniency, proved unavailing to induce him to return.[I] Delighted at finding himself his own master, he determined never again to accept a fixed position, however tempting the offer.

Being at Milan in the spring of 1813, he witnessed, at the Theatre La Scala, the ballet of “Il Noce di Benevento” by Virgano, the music of which was by Süssmayer.[J] It was from this ballet that Paganini took the theme of his celebrated variations “le Streghe,” (the Witches), from the air being that to which the witches appeared. While busied with these variations, and making arrangements for his concerts, he was again seized with a return of his former malady, and several months elapsed before he could appear in public. It was only on the 29th of October following he was enabled to give his first concert, when he excited a sensation which the journals of Italy and Germany made known to the whole world.

Paganini always evinced an extraordinary predilection for Milan, to which city he was much attached. Not only did he reside there the greater part of 1813, with the exception of his visit to Genoa, but also, until the month of September, 1814, visiting it three times during five years, residing there for a long period, and giving thirty-seven concerts. In 1813 he gave eleven, some at La Scala, and others at the Theatre Carcano; and, after a repose of some months, another series at the Theatre Rè, in 1814. In the month of October of that year he went to Bologna, where he saw Rossini for the first time, and commenced a friendship which became strengthened at Rome, in 1817, and at Paris in 1831. Rossini produced his “Aureliano in Palmira,” in December, 1813, at Milan, at which period Paganini was at Genoa, so that these artists had never yet met each other until Rossini was about leaving Bologna, to write his “Turco in Italia,” at Milan.

Up to the year 1828, Paganini had made three times the round of Italy. In 1815 he returned to Romagna, and having given some concerts there, stopped at Ancona. Here his malady returned to him for several months, and he then proceeded to Genoa, about the commencement of 1816, while Lafont was giving concerts at Milan. Anxious to hear the French violinist, he repaired thither, where a rivalry ensued, which was much spoken of, and appreciated in various ways, according to the bias of school and nationality. Lafont, who frequently related to me the circumstances of this meeting, was perfectly convinced that he was the victor. It is interesting to hear Paganini’s relation of this circumstance of his life:--“Being at Genoa, in March, 1816, I heard that Lafont was giving concerts at Milan, for which city I immediately started, for the purpose of hearing him. His performance pleased me exceedingly. A week afterwards I gave a concert at the Theatre La Scala, to make myself known to him. The next day Lafont proposed we should both perform on the same evening. I excused myself by saying that such experiments were always impolitic, as the public invariably looked upon such matters as duels, in which there was always a victim, and that it would be so in this case; for as he was acknowledged the best violinist in France, so the public indulgently considered me as the best of Italian violinists. Lafont not looking at it in this light, I was obliged to accept the challenge. I allowed him to regulate the programme, which he did in the following manner:--We each in turn played one of our own compositions, after which we played together the “Symphonie concertante” of Kreutzer, for two Violins. In this I did not deviate in the least from the author’s text, while we both were playing our own parts; but in the solos I yielded to my own imagination, and introduced several novelties, which seemed to annoy my adversary. Then followed a Russian air, with variations, by Lafont, and I finished the concert with my variations on “le Streghe.” Lafont probably surpassed me in tone, but the applause which followed my efforts convinced me I did not suffer by comparison.” Lafont, it cannot be denied, acted imprudently under the circumstances, for although it may be admitted he possessed more purely classical qualities, and was more in accordance with French taste than Paganini, although his tone was fuller, and more equal, yet, in original fancy, poetry of execution, and mastery of difficulties, he could not place himself in juxtaposition with his antagonist. In a concert, at the Conservatory of Paris, in 1816, the palm would have been awarded to him, but, with an Italian public, athirst for novelty and originality, his failure was certain.

_From “The Violin: its Famous Makers and their Imitators.” (By kind permission of Mr. G. Hart.)_]

A similar circumstance occurred two years later, when Paganini had returned to Placentia to give concerts. The Polish violinist, Lipinski,[K] was then there (1818). He had sought Paganini without success at Venice, Verona, and Milan, and had abandoned all hopes of meeting him, when a concert bill was put into his hands, which announced that they were then together in the same town. Paganini gave six concerts in this town; and, at the sixth, played a concerted symphony with Lipinski, which was much applauded. They frequently met at each other’s residence and improvised together. Some time after, Lipinski dedicated to him one of his works[L] as a tribute of respect; but when they again met at Warsaw, in 1829, a journal, speaking of a concert which the Polish violinist had just given, and lauding his talent, took occasion to depreciate the ability of Paganini, and to accuse the virtuoso of charlatanism. Other journals defended the Genoese violinist, and undervalued the merit of Lipinski, who deemed it a duty publicly to exculpate himself from the suspicion of having been connected with the discourteous attack directed towards his illustrious competitor. Paganini did not seem at all concerned about the matter, but the intimacy of the two artists ceased.

From Milan, Paganini repaired to Venice, in the summer of 1816, where he remained for upwards of a year, to restore his health, which had for some time been in a declining state; he also gave some concerts. This protracted sojourn at Venice is mentioned in the “Leipziger Musikalische Zeitung,” of July the 23rd, 1817, by a correspondent, who thus alludes to the subject:--

“The celebrated violinist, Paganini, has at last quitted Venice, where he has been sojourning for more than twelve months, and has returned to Genoa, his native town, taking Milan in his route.”

In the same year (1817) he arrived at Rome, and found Rossini there busy in producing his “Cenerentola.” Several concerts which he gave there during the Carnival excited the greatest enthusiasm. He also frequently played at the palace of the Count de Kaunitz, ambassador of Austria, where he met Count Metternich, who urgently pressed him to visit Vienna. From this time Paganini formed the project of leaving Italy to visit the principal cities of Germany and France; however, the uncertain state of his health, which, at times, placed his life in danger, prevented him from realising his project at this period. Besides, he had not yet visited Naples and Sicily--and he had long entertained a strong desire of doing so; however, it does not seem that he visited, at this time, that portion of the Peninsula, for we hear of him in Upper Italy, giving concerts at Verona, at Placentia, at Turin, at Florence, and throughout Tuscany, during 1818, and a portion of 1819.[M] It was only in the latter year that he arrived at Naples. It is a very remarkable circumstance that he appeared there in a manner unworthy of his great name; for, instead of giving his first concerts at the San Carlo, he modestly commenced at the theatre Il Fondo. It is true that, at the period he arrived--namely in the middle of the summer, the theatrical performances are more frequently given at the Fondo than at San Carlo.

On his arrival at Naples, Paganini found several artists indisposed towards him. They doubted the reality of the prodigies attributed to him, and awaited a failure. To put his talent to the test, the young composer, Danna, recently from the Conservatory, was engaged to write a quartett, containing every species of difficulty, convinced that the great violinist would not vanquish them. He was, therefore, invited to a musical re-union, where he met the violinist Onorio de Vito, the composer Danna, the violinist and director of music Festa, and the violoncellist Ciandelli. The piece was immediately given to him to play at first sight. Understanding the snare that was laid for him, he merely glanced at it, and played it as if he had been familiar with it. Amazed and confounded at what they had heard, the highest approbation was awarded to him, and he was proclaimed a miracle.

It was during this sojourn at Naples, that Paganini met with one of the most singular adventures of his extraordinary life. An alarming relapse of his malady took place; and, thinking that any current of air was injurious to him, he took an apartment in a part of the town called Petrajo, below Sant Elmo; but meeting here that which he most sought to avoid, and his health daily becoming worse, it was reported that he was consumptive. At Naples, the opinion prevailed that consumption is contagious. His landlord, alarmed at having in his house one who was supposed to be dying of this malady, had the inhumanity to turn him out into the street, with all he possessed. Fortunately, the violoncellist Ciandelli, the friend of Paganini, happened to be passing, and, incensed at this act of cruelty, which might have proved fatal to the great artist, belaboured the barbarian unmercifully with a stick he carried, and then had his friend conveyed to a comfortable lodging, where every attention was paid to him. Paganini recovered sufficiently to give concerts.

Having returned to Milan, in March, 1820, Paganini took part in founding a society of musical amateurs, which adopted the name of “Gli Orfei,” for the performance of the classical works of the old masters. He conducted several of this society’s concerts who, in testimony of gratitude and admiration, presented him with medals and crowns. Paganini’s predilection for the capital of Lombardy detained him there until December. He then went to Rome, and arrived while Rossini was producing his “Matilda di Sabran,” at the Apollo Theatre. On the day of the general rehearsal, the leader of the orchestra was seized with apoplexy. This unexpected event was a source of great embarrassment to the composer, inasmuch as the talent of the musicians was below mediocrity. As soon as this circumstance reached Paganini, he flew to his friend’s assistance, attended the general rehearsal, and led the three first representations with an energy that struck the band with amazement.

In May, 1821, Paganini left Rome to return to Naples. Kandler met him here during the summer. He gave concerts at the Fondo, and at the Teatro Nuovo. This literary musician has given an account in the “Morgenblatt” (1821, No. 290) of the extraordinary impression this “Hercules of Violinists,” as he called him, made upon him. The account is filled with expressions of unbounded admiration.

From Naples Paganini went to Palermo, and gave concerts, which were but poorly attended, attributed by the correspondent of the “Leipziger Musikalische Zeitung” to the indifference of the Sicilians for instrumental music. His stay here was of short duration, for we find him at Venice, then at Placentia, at the commencement of 1822. In April of the same year he gave concerts at Milan, his return being hailed with the warmest tokens of delight, and with a success surpassing all his former visits. He was now seriously preoccupied with his visit to Germany, as projected by Count Metternich; but during an excursion to Pavia, he again fell seriously ill, in January, 1823, and his life was despaired of. He had scarcely recovered when he proceeded to Turin, where a similar welcome and success awaited him. His health was, however, extremely delicate, and the necessity of repose so manifest, that he was obliged to return to his native air. Some months of inaction and calm, passed at Genoa, renewed his health and strength sufficiently to enable him to give concerts at the Theatre Saint Augustin, to which his fellow-townsfolk flocked in crowds. These concerts took place in the month of May, 1824, after which he repaired to Milan. Here he played at La Scala, on the 12th of June of the same year, and was received with acclamations which denoted the intense interest his health had excited. Some days after, he returned to Genoa, and gave two concerts, the first on the 30th of June, the second on the 7th of July following.

Paganini seemed to have recovered all his pristine health and strength, for in the month of November in the same year his talent seemed to be greater than ever at the concerts he gave at Venice. The title of “Filarmonico,” which then followed his name on his concert bills, gave rise to polemical discussions. Enemies, which great talent invariably creates, pretended that the Genoese violinist sought to induce the belief that he was a member of the Academy of Philharmonics of Bologna; although such was not the case, his admirers replied that the Academy would be honoured if Paganini condescended to become one. He terminated the discussion by declaring that his assuming the addition to his name was merely a declaration of his love for the art.

In January, 1825, Paganini gave two concerts at Trieste; thence he proceeded to Naples, for the third time, and met with a renewal of his former triumphs. In the summer he returned to Palermo, and this time his success was unparalleled. The delicious climate of Sicily was so agreeable to him that he remained here a year, giving here and there occasional concerts, but enjoying long intervals of repose. This lengthened sojourn in such a favourable climate restored him to better health than he had experienced for a long period, and he returned to his project of quitting Italy. However, before doing so, he wished to return to several towns of which he retained so many delightful reminiscences, and went to Trieste in the summer of 1826, then to Venice, and finally to Rome, where he gave five concerts at the Theatre Argentina, each of which was a separate ovation. On the 5th of April, 1827, Pope Leo the Twelfth decorated him with the Order of the Golden Spur, in token of his admiration of his great talent. From Rome he went to Florence, where he was detained by a disease in one of his legs, which remained uncured for a very long period. He went to Milan, where he was warmly received by his friends, and on the 2nd of March, 1828, he quitted this town and proceeded to Vienna, where he arrived the 16th of the same month.

On the 29th of March, the first concert of this great artist threw the Viennese population into an indescribable paroxysm of enthusiasm. “The first note he played on his Guarnerius (says M. Schilling, in poetical style, in his “Universal-Lexicon der Musik”)--indeed, from his first step into the room--his reputation was decided in Germany. Acted upon as by an electric spark, a brilliant halo of glory appeared to invest his whole person; he stood before us like a miraculous apparition in the domain of art.” The Vienna journals were unlimited in hyperbolical expressions of admiration; and the immense crowd whom he had enchanted at this concert, unceasingly poured forth hymns of praise to the glory of the enchanter, for two months. The most eminent artists of the Austrian capital, Mayseder, Jansa, Slawich, Léon de St. Lubin, Strebinger, Böhm, and others, all admitted his performance to be incomparable. Other concerts given on the 13th, 16th, 18th, of April, etc., created universal intoxication. Verses appeared in every publication--medals were struck--the name of Paganini engrossing all; and, as M. Schottky remarks, everything was à la Paganini. Fashion assumed his name. Hats, dresses, gloves, shoes, etc., bore his name. Cooks designated certain productions after him; and any extraordinary stroke at billiards was compared to a bow movement of the artist. His portrait appeared on snuff-boxes and cigar-cases; in fact, his bust surmounted the walking-sticks of fashionable men. After a concert given for the benefit of the poor, the magistrate of Vienna presented to Paganini the large gold medal of St. Salvador, and the Emperor conferred upon him the title of virtuoso of his private band.

A lengthened sojourn in the capital of Austria, and numerous concerts, did not in the least diminish the impression Paganini had created on his arrival. The same ovations were showered upon him in every town of Germany. Prague, from certain traditionary opposition to the musical opinions of Vienna, alone received him coldly; but Berlin so amply avenged this indifference, that he exclaimed at his first concert, “Here is my Vienna public!” After an uninterrupted series of triumphs, during three years, in Austria, Bohemia, Saxony, Poland, Bavaria, Prussia, and in the Rhenish provinces, after unceasing ovations of Vienna, Dresden, Berlin, and Frankfort, the celebrated artist arrived at Paris, and gave his first concert at the Opera, the 9th of March, 1831. His studies for the Violin, which had been published there for some time--a species of enigma which had perplexed every violinist; the European fame of the artist, his travels and triumphs, raised the curiosity of the artists and the public. It is impossible to describe the enthusiasm his first concert created--it was universal frenzy. Tumultuous applause preceded and followed all his performances, the audience rose _en masse_ to recall him after each, and nothing was heard but general approbation and amazement. The same enthusiasm prevailed during his entire stay in Paris.

Towards the middle of May he left this city, and proceeded to London, where he was expected with the utmost impatience, but not with that artistic and perceptive interest with which he had been received at Paris. The high prices of admission charged for his concerts drew down the reprobation of the English journals, as if the artist was not privileged to put what price he pleased upon his talent, or that they were perforce obliged to go and hear him. The concerts at London, at which Paganini performed, and his professional tour through England, Scotland, and Ireland, produced an immense amount of money; this was a large fortune, to which he added considerably afterwards, during his visits to France and Belgium. He has been reproached with having sold himself to an English speculator for a certain time and a definite sum: a system which many artists have since adopted, though it is repugnant both to art and the dignity of the artist. Yet the great care necessary for the organisation of concerts, the difficulties encountered by an artist in England, certainly offer some apology for its adoption. The scandalous manner in which the managements plunder the artists--the toll claimed by the band, charitable institutions, printers, advertisements, lighting, servants, &c., &c., &c., offer so many interruptions to the calm serenity necessary for the display of talent, that the artist can scarcely be blamed for ridding himself of these annoyances by concluding a compact by which he is assured a specific sum.[N]

After an absence of six years, Paganini again set foot on his native soil. The wealth he had amassed in his European tour, placed him in a position of great independence. He sought to place this to advantage, yet was undecided what part of the Peninsula he would select as his place of abode. His former predilection was for Tuscany; but, among the various properties he purchased, was a charming country house in the environs of Parma, called la Villa Gajona--here he decided on residing. Various projects occupied him at this period, the most important of which was the publication of his compositions--a publication which was ardently desired by all violinists, under the impression that they would arrive at the secret of his marvellous talent. During his stay in London, M. Troupenas, one of the most eminent publishers in Paris at that time, arrived there for the purpose of purchasing the copyright of his manuscripts; yet, although M. Troupenas was accustomed to pay large sums to celebrated authors, whose works he published, particularly Rossini and Auber, he could not come to terms with the great violinist. M. Troupenas has frequently told me that the sum asked by Paganini for his manuscripts was so considerable, that a continuous sale during ten years would not have reimbursed him. Afterwards, at Brussels, Paganini told me he contemplated publishing his works himself; but, not having yet abandoned giving concerts, he conceived the singular idea of arranging his music for the Pianoforte.

On returning to Italy, where he was almost worshipped by his countrymen, from the great triumphs he had obtained, and the honours conferred on him by foreign potentates, he was received with the most marked degree of respect. On the 14th of November, 1834, he gave a concert at Placentia, for the benefit of the poor. The following 12th of December, he played at the Court of Maria Louisa, Duchess of Parma, from whom he received the imperial Order of St. George. During the year 1835, Paganini alternately resided at Genoa, Milan, and at his retreat near Parma. The cholera, which was then raging at Genoa, gave rise to the rumour that he had fallen a victim to the infection. This event was announced in the public papers, in which there appeared necrological notices; but, although his health was lamentably bad, he escaped the cholera.

In 1836, some speculators induced him to lend the aid of his name and talent to establish a casino, of which music was the pretext, but gambling the real object. This establishment, which was situated in the most fashionable locality of Paris, was opened with considerable splendour at the end of November, 1837, under the name of Casino Paganini; but the Government refused to authorize its opening as a gambling house, and the speculators were reduced to give concerts, the proceeds of which were far exceeded by the expenses of the undertaking. Under the necessity of meeting the engagement entered into for this purpose, the great artist withdrew from his country house near Parma, and proceeded by way of Piedmont. At Turin, together with the guitarist Legnani, he gave a concert on the 9th of June, for the benefit of the poor; and he then proceeded by way of Lyons, notwithstanding his ill state of health, and arrived at Paris oppressed with fatigue and suffering. The decline of his health was manifest; and his wasted strength precluded the possibility of his playing at the Casino. As the price of his painful journey to Paris, and the loss of his health, a law suit was commenced against him, which he lost; the judges, without having heard his defence, condemned him to pay 50,000f. to the creditors of the speculation, and he was to be deprived of his liberty until that amount was paid.

When this decision was pronounced, Paganini was dying--his malady, which was phthisis of the larynx, had increased since the commencement of 1839. The medical men advised him to proceed to Marseilles, the climate of which they considered favourable to his health. He followed their advice, and travelled by slow stages to the south. His great energy struggled against the illness. In retirement at the house of a friend, near the gates of the city, he still occupied himself with his art, and alternated between the Violin and the Guitar. One day he seemed to revive, and performed a quartett of Beethoven, his particular favourite, with the greatest energy. Despite his extreme weakness, he went, some few days after, to hear a requiem for male voices, by Cherubini, finally, on the 21st of June, he attended in one of the churches at Marseilles, to take part in a solemn mass by Beethoven. However, the love of change, inherent in all valetudinarians, induced him to return to Genoa by sea, fully impressed that the voyage would recruit his health. Vain hope! In the commencement of October of the same year, he wrote from his native city to M. Galafre, a painter, and an esteemed friend of his: “Being in much worse health than I was at Marseilles, I have resolved on passing the winter at Nice.” Thus he believed he was flying from death, and death was pursuing him. Nice was destined to be his last abode. The progress of his malady was rapid--his voice became almost extinct, and dreadful fits of coughing, which daily became more frequent, finally reduced him to a shadow. The sinking of the features, a certain token of approaching death, was visible in his face. An Italian writer has furnished us with a most touching description of his last moments in the following terms:--

“On the last night of his existence, he appeared unusually tranquil. He had slept a little; when he awoke, he requested that the curtains of his bed should be drawn aside to contemplate the moon, which, at its full, was advancing calmly in the immensity of the pure heavens. While steadily gazing at this luminous orb, he again became drowsy, but the murmuring of the neighbouring trees awakened in his breast that sweet agitation which is the reality of the beautiful. At this solemn hour, he seemed desirous to return to Nature all the soft sensations which he was then possessed of; stretching forth his hands towards his enchanted Violin--to the faithful companion of his travels--to the magician which had robbed care of its stings--he sent to heaven, with its last sounds, the last sigh of a life which had been all melody.”