This concert afforded another proof of Paganini's power of attraction. A certain M. Bergman, a (Swedish?) traveller and passionate lover of music, reading accidentally the evening before in the journal at Leghorn, an announcement of Paganini's concert, lost no time, but instantly set out for Genoa, a distance of a hundred miles, and luckily reached the spot just half an hour before the concert began. He went with his expectations raised to the utmost, but, to use his own expression, the reality was as far above his anticipations as the heavens are above the earth. Nor could this enthusiastic amateur rest content with once hearing Paganini, but actually followed him to Milan, in order to hear him exercise his talents a second time. Now-a-days the enthusiasts are young ladies, who mob their favourites in the artists' room!
In 1824 Paganini gave two concerts in La Scala, Milan, which was crowded to excess. At the first he played a concerto, and three airs with variations—all on the fourth string, so said the report. A surfeit, this, even for his fervent admirers. In the same year at Pavia, he gave two concerts, the bills being headed:
PAGANINI
Farà sentire il suo Violino.
(Paganini will cause his violin to be heard.) He was received with no less enthusiasm than at Milan. Paganini then returned to Genoa, but soon left for Venice. There he formed an union with Antonia Bianchi, the young singer he introduced at Genoa, who became his companion, sang at his concerts, and shared his triumphs.
In 1825, Paganini was again at Naples, where he gave a concert, causing his name to be announced in the bills as—
Filarmonico,
a term which gave rise to much discussion, some considering it as indicating modesty, others just the reverse; but at all events it savoured of affectation. In the summer of 1825, Paganini went to Palermo, where he also gave a concert. The delicious climate of Sicily had a great charm for him, and he remained there for nearly a year, giving concerts at different places, but enjoying prolonged intervals of repose. His health strengthened, Paganini again entertained the idea of leaving Italy, but determined upon one more tour before carrying out his intention. In 1826, he visited Trieste, Venice, and finally Rome, where he gave five concerts. In April, 1827, Pope Leo XII. invested Paganini with the order of the Golden Spur, a distinction so rare that it afforded a topic for conversation for some time. From Rome Paganini went to Florence, and as "Il Cavaliere Paganini" gave a concert at the Teatro Pergola, which was attended by all the rank and fashion of the place. He was detained for some time at Florence owing to a disease breaking out in one of his legs. As soon as he was able to travel he set out for Milan, where he was received with every demonstration of affection. He gave four musical soirées at the close of 1827, and in the early part of 1828, two concerts in La Scala, when he appears to have played for the first time the concerto with the "Rondo ad un Campanello;" the piece created a great effect. Paganini had now traversed the whole of Italy at least three times, giving hundreds of concerts, building up an ever growing reputation and exciting universal admiration, despite those detractors whose machinations have been exposed. At last, on the 2nd of March, 1828, Paganini started on his long projected visit to Vienna.
CHAPTER IV.
Paganini arrived at Vienna, March 16th, 1828, and gave his first concert in the Redouten-Saal[13] on the 29th of the same month, creating a furore the like of which had never been witnessed. It must be borne in mind that Paganini was now no romantic-looking youth to move the feelings of sentimental or hysterical young ladies. He was in his forty-sixth year, and his face bore the marks of suffering; he wore his long hair in ringlets falling over his shoulders, but physically he was a wreck. Yet no youthful artist of to-day has made a more sensational début than that of Paganini in the Austrian Capital in 1828. To repeat the oft-quoted account given by Schilling: "At the first stroke of the bow on his Guarnerius, one might almost say at the first step he took into the hall, his reputation was decided in Germany. Kindled as by an electric flash, he suddenly shone and sparkled like a miraculous apparition in the domain of art."
Another account, if less familiar, is equally interesting. In a letter from Vienna, addressed to the Literary Gazette, the writer says:—"The great novelty and prodigy of the day is one M. Paganini, an Italian performer on the violin.
"This is the first time he has left Italy; but I heard him previously, about five years ago, at Milan, in competition with M. Lafont, whom he beat fairly.[14] He is, without contradiction, not only the finest player on the violin, but no other performer, upon what instrument soever, can be styled his equal: Kalkbrenner, Rode, Romberg, Moscheles, Jew and Gentile, are his inferiors by at least some thousand degrees; they are not fit, as we say in Germany, to reach him water. He is Mathews of the violin, performs a whole concert on a single string, where you are sure to hear, besides his own instrument, a harp, a guitar, and a flute. In one word, he is a necromancer, and bids fair to beat la Giraffe. We have here hats, shawls, gloves and nonsense of every description, à la Giraffe; but yesterday I actually ate Auflaufy—a very innocent, rather insipid sweetmeat—à la Paganini. … He has already performed twice to crowded houses in our great masquerade-hall. The beginning of the concert was, as usual, advertised for half-past eleven [in the morning]: at eleven o'clock not a pin dropping from the roof would have reached the ground; people were already there at nine o'clock. He came hither with six florins in his pocket; now you may style him a warm man. From Vienna he intends to proceed to Paris, and thence to London."[15]
Here a brief digression is pardonable. The Pasha of Egypt, a short time before Paganini's visit, had presented to the Emperor of Austria a Giraffe, an animal then new to Europe. That interesting quadruped, a superb specimen of its kind, created such a sensation, and so completely absorbed public attention, that as seen in the letter just quoted, everything was à la Giraffe.[16] Paganini's phenomenal success gained him a popularity that quite eclipsed the poor Giraffe, and now the mode was à la Paganini. All kinds of articles were named after him; a good stroke at billiards was a coup à la Paganini; his bust in butter and crystallised sugar figured on every banquet table; and portraits, more or less faithful, adorned snuff-boxes, cigar-boxes, or were carved on the canes carried by the fops. Paganini himself went into a shop one day to buy gloves. "A la Giraffe?" asked the salesman. "No, no, some other animal," said the maestro, whereupon he was handed a pair à la Paganini! It is said that a certain driver, whom Paganini had once engaged, obtained permission to paint on his vehicle the words Cabriolet de Paganini, by which means he gained notoriety and enough money to set up as a hotel-keeper. Paganini was much sought after by the leaders of society and fashion; but Prince Metternich alone received the favour of a visit.
It may be remembered that Franz Schubert gave his first, and as it turned out, his only concert, in the hall of the Musik-Verein, Vienna, on the 26th of March, three days before that of Paganini. Schubert cleared over £30—the first piece of luck that came to the poor composer. The money flowed freely; he paid his five Gulden (something over six shillings) to hear Paganini, and went a second time, not so much for his own sake, as to take his friend Bauernfeld,[17] who had not five farthings, while with him (Schubert) "money was as plentiful as black-berries." Generous, simple Schubert! Did he and Paganini ever meet? What a pair they would have made!
Paganini's Vienna concerts were so successful that he increased the number from six to twelve. It is said that poor musicians actually sold their clothes to raise the needful in order to hear him; and that no halls were large enough