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.”
The great artist expired the 27th of May, 1840, at the age of 56,
leaving to his only son, Achille--the fruit of his liaison with the
cantatrice, Antonia Bianchi, of Como--an immense fortune, and the
title of Baron, which had been conceded to him in Germany. All had
not ended with the man whose life was as extraordinary as his talent.
Whether from the effect of certain popular rumours, of which mention
will be made hereafter, or whether, from the fact of Paganini having
died without receiving the last rites of the Church, he had left doubts
as to his religion, his remains were refused interment in consecrated
ground by the Bishop of Nice, Monsignor Antonio Galvano. Vainly did
his son, his friends, and most of the artists of the city, solicit
permission to celebrate a solemn service for his eternal rest, on the
plea that, as in all cases of phthisis, the sufferer never believed
his end was approaching, but had died suddenly; the Bishop remained
inexorable, but proffered an authentic act of decease, with permission
to remove the body wheresoever they pleased. This was not accepted,
and the matter was brought before the tribunals. At Nice, a verdict
was returned in favour of the Bishop. Recourse was then had to Rome,
which remitted the Bishop’s decision, and charged the Bishop of Turin,
conjointly with two Canons of the Cathedral of Genoa, to institute an
inquiry with reference to the catholicity of Paganini. All this time
the body was lying in one of the rooms of the hospital at Nice; it was
afterwards removed by sea from the lazaretto of Villa Franca, near the
city, to a country spot named Polcevera, near Genoa, which belonged to
the family of the illustrious artist. It was rumoured that piteous and
extraordinary tones were heard there at night. To end these popular
reports, the young Baron Paganini resolved on defraying the expense
of a solemn service to the memory of his father, as Chevalier de St.
George, which was celebrated at Parma in the church of the Steccata,
belonging to that chivalrous order. After this ceremony, the friends of
the deceased obtained permission from the Bishop of Parma to bring the
body into the Duchy, to remove it to the Villa Gajona, and to inter it
in the village church. This funeral homage was rendered to the remains
of the celebrated man, in the month of May, 1845, but without pomp, in
conformity with the orders which had emanated from the Government.
By his will, made on the 27th of April, 1837, and opened on the 1st
of June, 1840, Paganini left to his son, legitimized by deeds of law,
a fortune estimated at two millions (£80,000 sterling), out of which
two legacies were to be paid, of fifty and sixty thousand francs, to
his two sisters, leaving to the mother of his son Achille an annuity
of 1,200 francs. Independently of his wealth, Paganini possessed a
collection of valuable instruments, among which was an incomparable
Stradiuari, estimated at upwards of 8,000 Austrian florins, a charming
Guarnieri of the smaller pattern, an excellent Amati, a Stradiuari
Bass, equally prized with his Violin of this master, and his large
Guarnieri, the only instrument which accompanied him in his travels,
and which he bequeathed to the town of Genoa, not being desirous that
any artist should possess it after him.
The frenzied admiration which Paganini’s prodigious talent excited
wherever he went, and the wealth he amassed, were painfully compensated
for, by the distressing state of his health during the greater part
of his life. His biographers attribute this delicate state to the
excesses of a stormy youth; but the immoderate use, during more than
twenty years, of the quack medicine of Le Roy, exerted an equally
fatal influence over his physical constitution. He rarely consulted
the faculty, and less frequently followed their advice. His confidence
in this favourite panacea was unshaken; he resorted to it on every
occasion, convinced that no ill with which humanity is afflicted, could
resist its action. The powerful agitation it excited was looked upon as
a salutary crisis. Its frequent use subjected the intestinal functions
to frequent disturbance, induced irritation, which became chronic, and
produced nervous attacks, which often almost deprived him of the power
of speech.
It was not only by his almost constant indisposition that Paganini
expiated his glory and his success, for the malignity of his enemies
pursued him for more than fifteen years with calumnious imputations,
which everywhere left their traces, and compromised his honour. Crime
was even imputed to him. The versions varied, as regards the deeds laid
to his charge; according to one, his liaisons, unworthy of his talent,
led him in his youth to the commission of highway robbery; others
attributed to him a maddening and vindictive jealousy in love affairs,
which frequently brought him to the verge of murder. Now his mistress,
now his rival, had fallen victims to his irrepressible fury. It was
even said, a long incarceration in prison had expiated his crime. The
long intervals which took place between his concerts, either for the
re-establishment of his health or for repose and meditation, favoured
these calumnious reports. The qualities even of his talent were but
weapons for his enemies, and it was said that the solitude of a prison,
and the impossibility of replacing the strings of his Violin which
had broken, led to his marvellous performance on the fourth, the only
one that remained upon his instrument. When Paganini visited Germany,
France, and England, envy pursued him, greedy of collecting odious
calumny, to oppose his success, as if it were decreed that genius and
talent should ever expiate the advantages which nature and study had
endowed them with. Paganini was frequently driven to defend himself
in the columns of the press; vainly had he appealed to the testimony
of the ambassadors of the foreign powers; vainly did he call upon his
enemies to cite, with precision, the facts and dates which they had
vaguely propagated; but no advantageous results were derived from this.
Paris, especially, was hostile to him, although that city contributed
principally to his fame. Apart from the real public, who entertain
neither hatred nor prejudice, and who yield to the pleasure which
talent provides for them, there is, in that city, a hunger-starved
population, which exists on the ill it does and the good it prevents.
This contemptible world speculated upon the celebrity of the artist,
and persuaded itself that he would purchase their silence. Lithographic
prints presented him a prisoner; journals attacked his morals, his
humanity, his integrity. These reiterated attacks--this pillory to
which he saw himself attached, as actor and as spectator--affected
him deeply. He confided his sorrows to me, and took counsel from me,
satisfying me perfectly of their unjust malice. I requested him to
furnish me with some notes to enable me to write a letter, which I
published with his signature, and was copied into most of the Paris
journals. The facts, related in that letter, possess so much interest
for the history of the most extraordinary man of our age, that I deem
it important to give it a place here. I conceive it, besides, a duty to
omit nothing that may avenge the calumnies which attached to one of the
most dazzling glories of the musical art:--
“SIR,--So many proofs of kindness have been showered upon me by the
French public, so much encouraging approbation has been bestowed upon
me, that I cannot avoid believing in the fame which it is said preceded
me in Paris, and that I fell not short of my reputation at my concerts.
But, if any doubt of that kind existed in my bosom, it would be removed
by the eagerness evinced by your artists to produce my likeness, and
by the great number of portraits of Paganini--faithful resemblances
or not--which cover the walls of your city; but, sir, it is not only
simple portraits that speculators of that nature stop at--for, while
walking yesterday on the Boulevard des Italiens, I saw in a shop, where
engravings are sold, a lithograph representing Paganini in prison.
‘Oh!’ I exclaimed, ‘here are some honest folks who, after the fashion
of Basile, make a profit out of certain calumnies which have pursued
me for the last fifteen years.’ However, I examined laughingly this
mystification, with all the details that the imagination of the artist
had conjured up, when I perceived that a large number of persons had
congregated around me, each of whom, confronting my face with that of
the young man represented in the lithograph, verified the change that
had taken place in my person since my detention. I then saw that it was
looked on in a serious light by those you call, I believe, louts, and
that the speculation was a good one. It struck me that, as everybody
must live, I might furnish the artists, who are kind enough to consider
me worthy of their attention, with some anecdotes--anecdotes from
which they could derive subjects of similar facetiæ to the subject in
question. It is to give them publicity, that I claim from your kindness
the insertion of this letter in the ‘Revue Musicale.’
“They have represented me in prison; but they are ignorant of the
cause of my incarceration; however, they know as much of that as I do
myself, and those who concocted the anecdote. There are many stories in
reference to this, which would supply them with as many subjects for
their pencils; for example, it is stated that, having found a rival in
my mistress’ apartment, I stabbed him honourably in the back, while he
was unable to defend himself. Others assert, that, in the madness of
jealousy, I slew my mistress; but they do not state how I effected my
bloody purpose. Some assert I used a dagger--others that, desirous of
witnessing her agony, I used poison. Each has settled it in accordance
with his own fancy. Why should not lithographers have the same
privilege? I will relate what occurred to me at Padua, nearly fifteen
years since. I had played at a concert with great success. The next
day, seated at the table d’hôte (I was the sixtieth) my entrance in the
room passed unobserved. One of the guests spoke of the great effect
I had produced the previous evening. His neighbour concurred in all
that was said, and added, ‘There is nothing surprising in Paganini’s
performance--he acquired his talent while confined in a dungeon
during eight years, having only his Violin to soften the rigours of
his confinement. He was condemned for having, coward-like, stabbed
one of my friends, who was his rival.’ As you may imagine, every one
was shocked by the enormity of my crime. I then addressed myself to
the person who was so well acquainted with my history, and requested
to know when and where this had taken place. Every eye was directed
towards me. Judge the surprise when they recognised the principal
actor in this tragical history! The narrator was embarrassed. It was
no longer his friend who had been assassinated. He heard--it had been
affirmed--he believed; but it was not improbable he had been deceived.
This is how an artist’s reputation is trifled with, because indolent
people will never comprehend that one may study at liberty as well as
under lock and key.
“A still more ridiculous report, at Vienna, tested the credulity of
some enthusiasts. I had played the variations entitled “Le Streghe”
(the Witches), and they produced some effect. One individual, who was
represented to me as of a sallow complexion, melancholy air, and bright
eye, affirmed that he saw nothing surprising in my performance, for he
had distinctly seen, while I was playing my variations, the devil at my
elbow directing my arm and guiding my bow. My resemblance to him was a
proof of my origin. He was clothed in red--had horns on his head--and
carried his tail between his legs. After so minute a description,
you will understand, sir, it was impossible to doubt the fact; hence,
many concluded they had discovered the secret of what they termed my
wonderful feats.