Part 4

“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.

[Illustration: PAGANINI’S VIOLIN, IN THE MUNICIPAL PALACE AT GENOA.

_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.