Notwithstanding the enormous number of concerts he gave, Paganini was pre-occupied the day on which one was given. He would remain idle the whole morning, lying on a sofa. Before going to a rehearsal, he would open his Violin-case to examine the state of his strings, tune it, and prepare the orchestral parts of the pieces he intended playing. During these operations he took large quantities of snuff—a certain token with him of great mental excitement and disquietude. On arriving at rehearsal, his first care was to see that no person was in the room or theatre. Should any one be there, he merely indicated to the band what he desired by almost an imperceptible sound, or slight pizzicato. He was extremely severe with the band; and would have a solo or a tutti repeated for the slightest error. If this continued, he would pace to and fro before the orchestra, and dart the most furious looks at the musicians; but when a tutti came in too soon, before the termination of a cadenza, he burst forth into a tempest of rage which would cause the boldest to tremble. When, however, the accompaniment was satisfactory, he would smile, and express his approbation aloud, in these words, “Bravissimo! Siete tutti virtuosi!” When he came to a pause for the introduction of a cadenza, the musicians all rose, eager to observe what he was about to play, but Paganini would merely play a few notes—stop suddenly—and, turning towards them, would laughingly add, “Et cætera, Messieurs!” It was only in the evening he would put forth all his strength. After the rehearsal, he would converse for a few moments with the leader, to thank him for the attention that had been paid, and sought out especial passages for his particular observation. He invariably carried away himself the orchestral parts, of which he was particularly careful. The principal part was never seen, as he played from memory, to avoid his pieces being copied. When he returned home he partook of a light repast, threw himself upon his bed, and remained there until the carriage came to take him to the theatre. A few minutes sufficed for his toilet, and he proceeded at once to the concert. When he arrived he evinced as much gaiety, as he had displayed gravity during the day. His first question was “is there a large audience?” If answered in the affirmative, he would say, “good—good! excellent people!” if, on the contrary, he was told the audience was small, he expressed a fear that the effect of the music would be lost in the empty boxes.
Paganini was not always alike disposed for his concerts. He had doubts of himself; and, trying several difficult passages, if he failed in executing them with his usual facility, he became angry, and exclaimed, “If I were in Paris, I would not play to-day.” He would frequently recover himself during the evening, and say ingeniously to his friends, “I have played better at the end than at the commencement of the concert.” He kept the public waiting a long time before he came on. His departure from the theatre resembled a triumph; a crowd formed an avenue to his carriage, and greeted him with loud acclamations; he was received similarly on his arrival at his hotel. Paganini seemed delighted with the homage, and frequently mixed with the crowds that surrounded the doors. He would join the company at the table d’hôte in the best possible spirits, and would sup heartily.
There are few examples of such devotion to severe study as Paganini evinced in the accomplishment of his art. He created the difficulties he performed, with a view of varying the effects and augmenting the resources of his instrument—this, as it is seen, having been his object, so soon as he was capable of reflecting on his ultimate destiny. Having played the music of the old masters, particularly that of Pugnani, Viotti and Kreutzer, he felt he could never attain great fame if he followed in their path. Chance brought under his notice the ninth work of Locatelli, entitled, “l’Arte di Nuova Modulazione,” and he at once saw in it a new world of ideas and facts, though, on its first appearance it was unsuccessful from its excessive difficulty, and, perhaps, also, because it was in advance of the period when “classic” forms should be departed from. Circumstances were favourable to Paganini, for the necessity of innovation was at its zenith in his day. In adopting the ideas of his predecessors, in resuscitating forgotten effects, in superadding what his genius and perseverance gave birth to, he arrived at that distinctive character of performance and his ultimate greatness. The diversity of sounds—the different methods of tuning his instrument—the frequent employment of double and single harmonic notes—the simultaneous pizzicato and bow passages—the various staccati—the use of the double and even triple notes—a prodigious facility in executing wide intervals with unerring precision, joined to an extraordinary number of various styles of bowing—such were the principal features of Paganini’s talent—means which were rendered perfect by his execution—his exquisite nervous sensibility, and his enormous musical feeling. From the manner in which he placed himself, leaning, as it were, on his hip, from the position of his right arm, and the manner in which he held his bow, it would have been thought its movements would be nothing less than awkward, and the arm all stiffness; but it was soon observed that the bow and the arm moved with equal ease, and what appeared to be the result of some malformation, was the result of deep study of that which was most favourable to the effect the artist wished to produce. His bow was of ordinary dimensions; but was screwed up with more than usual tension. It is probable Paganini found it preferable for his bounding staccato, which differed from that of all other violinists. In the notice which he wrote at Lucca, he says great surprise was manifested at the length of his bow, and the thickness of his strings; but, some time after, he evidently discovered the difficulty of producing vibration in every part of the strings, and consequently, of obtaining a perfect tone, for he gradually diminished their dimensions—and when he played in Paris his strings were under the medium size. Paganini’s hands were large, dry, and nervous. His fingers, by dint of excessive practice, had acquired a suppleness and aptitude difficult to conceive. The thumb of the left hand fell easily upon the palm of his hand, when necessary for the execution of certain shifting passages.
The quality of tone which Paganini brought from his instrument was clear and pure, without being excessively full, except in certain effects, when it was manifest he collected all his power to arrive at extraordinary results. But what most distinguished this portion of his talent was the variety of voices he drew from the strings, by means of his own, or which, after having been discovered by others, had been neglected, their full import having been misunderstood. Thus, the harmonic sounds, which before his time had only been considered as curious and limited effects, rather than as a positive benefit to a violinist, formed an important feature in Paganini’s performance. It was not only for an isolated effect that he employed them, but as an artificial means to reach certain intervals, which the largest hand could never embrace. It was from the harmonic sounds that he obtained on the fourth string a compass of three octaves. Before Paganini, none had imagined that beyond natural harmonics, it was possible to execute thirds, fifths, sixths; in fact, that at the octaves in diatonic succession, natural and harmonic sounds could be produced. All these Paganini executed in every position with the utmost facility. In singing he frequently produced a vibratory effect, which greatly resembled the human voice, but when, by sliding the hand, the voice became like that of an old woman, the effect was affected and exaggerated. Paganini’s intonation was perfect; this rare quality was not the least of the advantages he possessed over other violinists.
After having spoken of the great qualities of Paganini’s talent, it is necessary to consider it from the general impression it produced upon the public. Many overleap the bounds of reason in expatiating on the poetry of his playing, particularly upon his singing. He was cited as the great Violin singer—as the creator of a pathetic and dramatic school, applied to the art of bowing. I confess that I do not look at his prodigious talent in this light. What I experienced in listening to him was astonishment—unbounded admiration; but I was seldom moved by that feeling which appears to me inseparable from the true expression of music. The poetry of the great violinist consisted, principally, in his brilliancy; and, if I may be allowed the expression, the mastery of his bow. There was fulness and grandeur in his phrasing—but there was no tenderness in his accents. In the prayer from “Mosè,” for example, he was great when the baritone voice was heard on the fourth string, from the elevated character he gave to it; but when he came to the part of Elcia, an octave higher on the same string, he fell into an affected strain of heavy, tremulous sounds, which good taste would have rejected. His triumph was in the last major strain; here he was sublime—and he then left an impression bordering on enthusiasm.
To pronounce judgment upon Paganini, it was necessary to hear him in his own especial style—that which most characterized his talent. In his concerts in Paris, he thought it necessary to flatter the national feeling by playing a concerto by Kreutzer and one by Rode—but he scarcely rose above mediocrity in their performance. His secretary, Mr. Harrys, tells us the opinion Paganini formed of himself as regards these attempts. He said to him, “I have my own peculiar style; in accordance with this, I regulate my composition. To play those of other artists, I must arrange them accordingly: I had much rather write a piece in which I can trust myself entirely to my own musical impressions.” The unfavourable impression he made in Paris, with these two pieces, was a lesson to him; he never played from that time any music but his own. Paganini’s art did not apply to any species of composition—his was a specialty, of which he alone could be the interpreter—an art born with him, the secret of which he has carried with him to the grave.
I have used a word he often repeated—for he frequently insisted that his talent resulted from a secret discovered by him—and which he would reveal before his death, in a “study for the Violin,” that should only contain a small number of pages, but that should cause the utmost consternation to all violinists. He cited, in support of the infallibility of his secret, the experiment that he had made at Naples, upon a violoncellist of little talent, named Gaetano Ciandelli, who, by the revelation of the mystery, became transformed in one morning into a virtuoso. Apart from the study of mechanism—for which there is no substitute—no secret can exist from talent, but that which nature implants in the heart of the artist; there is, however, something astounding and mysterious in the faculty which Paganini possessed, of invariably overcoming the almost unheard-of difficulties, without ever touching the Violin except at concerts and rehearsals. Mr. Harrys, who was his secretary, and did not leave him for more than a year, never saw him take his Violin from its case. Be it, however, as it may, death has not permitted the secret, of which Paganini spoke, to be divulged.
Many notices of the life and talent of this great artist have been published, either in collections or separately; the most important are the following:—
1. “Paganini’s Leben und Treiben als Künstler und als Mensch,” (Life and Adventures of Paganini, as an Artist, and as a Man). Prague, Calve, 1830, in 8vo of 410 pages. This work, of which M. Schottky is the author, is but a compilation, without order, of correspondence, anecdotes, and German newspaper reports, as far as concerns the travels of the artist, from his first leaving Italy. An abridgment of this work, in which many doubtful facts and positive false accounts have been introduced, was published by M. L. Vinela, under the title of “Paganini’s Leben und Charakter,” (Life and Character of Paganini). Hamburg, Hoffmann and Campe, 1830, in 8vo.
2. “Paganini in seinem Reisewagen und Zimmer, in seinen redseligen Stunden, in gesellschaftlichen Zirkeln, und seinen Concerten,” (Paganini in his Post-chaise, in his Room, in his hours of Privacy, in Society, and his Concerts). Brunswick, Vieweg, 1830, in 8vo of 68 pages. A work written in simplicity and good faith, indicating sound judgment. Mr. George Harrys, or Harris, the writer of this opusculum, was an Englishman, attached to the Court of Hanover. With a view of studying Paganini as a man and an artist, and to publish this notice, he became his interpreter and secretary, and remained with him an entire year.
3. “Leben, Character und Kunst N. Paganini’s. Eine Skizze,” (Sketch of the Life, Character, and Talent of Paganini, by M. F. C. J. Schütz, Professor at Halle). Leipzig, Rein, 1830, in 8vo.
4. “Notice sur le célèbre violoniste Nicolo Paganini,” by M. J. Imbert de la Phalèque. Paris, E. Guyot, in 8vo, of 66 pages, with portrait.
5. “Paganini, his Life, his Person, and a few Words upon his Secret,” by G. L. Anders. Paris, Delaunay, 1831, in 8vo.
6. “Paganini et Bériot, ou Avis aux artistes qui se destinent à l’enseignement du Violon,” by Fr. Fayolle. Paris, Legouest, 1831, in 8vo.
7. “Vita di Nicolo Paganini di Genova, scritta ed illustrata da Giancarlo Conestabile, socio di varie Academie.” Perugia, tipografia di Vincenzo Bartelli, 1831, 1 vol. in 8vo, 317 pages. An excellent work, carefully edited, and in a good spirit of criticism, from documents chosen with discernment. The portrait of Paganini is given from M. Schottky’s, but softened and idealized.
Independently of the portraits which accompany most of the above works, many were published in Italy, in Germany, and in France. The most sought for are the following:—1st. Portrait of Paganini, lithographed by Maurin, in the 7th volume of the Revue Musicale; 2nd, one lithographed by Mauzaise, in 4to, Paris, Bénard; 3rd, Milan, Ricordi; 4th, drawn and lithographed by Begas, Berlin, Sachse, in 4to; 5th, without name of author, in 4to, Berlin, Trautwein and Co.; 6th, drawn by Hahn, Munich, Falter; 7th, lithographed by Krätzschmar, Leipzig, Breitkopf and Härtel; 8th, without name of author, Vienna, Artaria, 1828; 9th, ditto, Hamburg, Niemeyer; 10th, ditto, Leipzig, Pönicke; 11th, ditto, Mannheim, Heckel.