In the year 1817 Rossini, Meyerbeer, and Paganini were at Rome during
Carnival time, and the trio determined on a grand frolic. Rossini had
composed a very clever part-song, "Carnavale, Carnavale," known in
English as "We are Poor Beggars," and the three great musicians, having
disguised themselves as beggars, sang it with great effect through the
streets. Rossini during this Carnival produced his "Cenerentola," and
Paganini gave a series of concerts which excited great enthusiasm.
Shortly after this, Paganini's health gave way completely at Naples, and
the landlord of the hotel where he was stopping got the impression that
his sickness was infectious. In the most brutal manner he turned the
sick musician into the street. Fortunately, at this moment a violoncello
player, Ciandelli, who knew Paga-nini well, was passing by, and came to
the rescue, and his anger was so great, when he saw what had happened
to the great violinist, that he belabored the barbarous landlord
unmercifully with a stick, and conveyed the invalid to a comfortable
lodging where he was carefully attended to. Some time subsequently
Paganini had an opportunity of repaying this kindness, for he gave
Ciandelli some valuable instruction, which enabled him in the course of
a few years to become transformed from a very indifferent performer into
an artist of considerable eminence.
At the age of thirty-six Paganini again found himself at Milan, and
there organized a society of musical amateurs, called "Gli Orfei." He
conducted several of their concerts. But either the love of a roving
life or the necessity of wandering in order to fill his exchequer kept
him constantly on the move; and, though during these travels he is said
to have met with many extraordinary adventures, very little reliance can
be placed upon the accounts that have come down to us, the more so
when we consider that Paga-nini's mode of life was, as we shall see
presently, become by this time extremely sober. It was not until he
was forty-four years old that he finally quitted Italy to make himself
better known in foreign countries. He had been encouraged to visit
Vienna by Prince Metternich, who had heard and admired his playing at
Rome in 1817, and had repeatedly made plans to visit Germany, but his
health had been so wretched as to prevent his departure from his native
country. But a sojourn in the balmy climate of Sicily for a few months
had done him so much good that in 1828 he put his long-deferred
plans into execution. The first concert in March of that year made an
unparalleled sensation. He gave a great number of concerts in Vienna,
among them several for the poor. A fever seized all classes of society.
The shop windows were crowded with goods _à la Paganini_; a good stroke
at billiards was called _un coup à la Paganini_; dishes Avere named
after him; his portrait was enameled on snuff-boxes, and the Viennese
dandies carried his bust on the head of their walking-sticks. A cabman
wheedled out of the reluctant violinist permission to print on his cab,
_Cabriolet de Paganini_. By this cunning device, Jehu so augmented his
profits that he was able to rent a large house and establish a hotel, in
which capacity Paganini found him when he returned again to Vienna.
Among the pleasant stories told of him is one similar to an incident
previously related of Viotti. One day, as he was walking in Vienna,
Paganini saw poor little Italian boy scraping some Neapolitan songs
before the windows of a large house. A celebrated composer who
accompanied the artist remarked to him, "There is one of your
compatriots." Upon which Paganini evinced a desire to speak to the lad,
and went across the street to him for that purpose. After ascertaining
that he was a poor beggar-boy from the other side of the Alps, and that
he supported his sick mother, his only relative, by his playing, the
great violinist appeared touched. He literally emptied his pockets into
the boy's hand, and, taking the violin and bow from him, began the
most grotesque and extraordinary performance possible. A crowd soon
collected, the great virtuoso was at once recognized by the bystanders,
and when he brought the performance to an end, amid the cheers and
shouts of all assembled, he handed round the boy's hat, and made a
considerable collection of coin, in which silver pieces were very
conspicuous. He then handed the sum to the young Italian, saying, "Take
that to your mother," and, rejoining his companion, walked off with him,
saying, "I hope I've done a good turn to that little animal." At
Berlin, where he soon afterward astonished his crowded audiences by his
marvelous playing, the same fanatical enthusiasm ensued; and, with
the exception of Palermo, Naples (where he seems to have had many
detractors), and Prague, his visits to the various cities of Europe were
one continued triumph. People tried in vain to explain his method of
playing, professors criticised him, and pamphlets were published which
endeavored to make him out a quack or a charlatan. It was all to no
purpose. Nothing could arrest his onward course; triumph succeeded
triumph wherever he appeared; and, though no one could understand him,
every one admired him, and he had only to touch his violin to enchant
thousands. A curious scene occurred at Berlin, at a musical evening
party to which Paganini was invited. A young and presumptuous professor
of the violin performed there several pieces with very little effect; he
was not aware of the presence of the Genoese giant, whom he did not know
even by sight. Others, however, quickly recognized him, and he was asked
to play, which he at first declined, but finally consented to do after
urgent solicitation. Purposely he played a few variations in wretchedly
bad style, which caused a suppressed laugh from those ignorant of his
identity. The young professor came forward again and played another
selection in a most pretentious and pointed way, as if to crush the
daring wretch who had ventured to compete with him. Paganini again took
up the instrument, and played a short piece with such touching pathos
and astonishing execution, that the audience sat breathless till the
last dying cadence wakened them into thunders of applause, and hearts
thrilled as the name "Paganini" crept from mouth to mouth. The young
professor had already vanished from the room, and was never again seen
in the house where he had received so severe a lesson.
Paganini repeated his triumphs again the following year, performing
in Vienna and the principal cities of Germany, and everywhere arousing
similar feelings of admiration. Orders and medals were bestowed on him,
and his progress was almost one of royalty. His first concert in Paris
was given on March 9, 1831, at the opera-house. He was then forty-seven
years old, and Castil-Blaze described him as being nearly six feet
in height, with a long, pallid face, brilliant eyes, like those of an
eagle, long curling black hair, which fell down over the collar of his
coat, a thin and cadaverous figure--altogether a personality so gaunt
and delicate as to be more like a shadow than a man. The eyes sparkled
with a strange phosphorescent gleam, and the long bony fingers were so
flexible as to be likened only to "a handkerchief tied to the end of a
stick." Petis describes the impression he created at his first concert
as amounting to a "positive and universal frenzy." Being questioned as
to why he always performed his own compositions, he replied "that, if he
played other compositions than his own, he was obliged to arrange them
to suit his own peculiar style, and it was less trouble to write a piece
of his own." Indeed, whenever he attempted to interpret the works of
other composers, he failed to produce the effects which might have been
expected of him. This was especially the case in the works of Beethoven.