Paganini's tours, extending over three years, embraced Bohemia, Poland, Saxony, Bavaria, Prussia, and the Rhine provinces. Many more details might be given, but they are really needless: it was always the same story of the artist's success, excepting, indeed, at Augsburg, where the criticisms were adverse, as at Prague. An anecdote may fitly close the narration of Paganini's long stay in Germany, as it reveals an interesting trait in the character of the peasantry. Paganini, in the autumn of 1829, was summoned to appear before the Queen Dowager of Bavaria, at the Castle of Tegernsee, a magnificent residence of the Kings of Bavaria, situated on the banks of a lake of the same name. At the moment the concert was about to begin, a great bustle was heard outside. The Queen, having enquired the cause, was informed that about sixty of the neighbouring peasantry, having been told of the arrival of the famous Italian violinist, were come with the hope of hearing some of his notes, and requested that the windows should be opened, in order that they also might enjoy his talent. The Queen went beyond their wishes, and with truly Royal good-nature, gave orders that they should all be admitted into the saloon, where she had the pleasure of remarking their discernment, and the judicious manner in which they applauded the most striking parts of the distinguished artist's performance.
Frankfort seems to have been a favourite stopping place with Paganini, and from there, at last, he quitted the fatherland, and arrived at Strasburg, where he gave two concerts, and thence proceeded direct to Paris.
It has to be observed that France had just been through another Revolution, and the turmoil, social and political, had not subsided. To a populace seething in this fevered atmosphere anything by way of diversion would be welcome. The man of the hour was Paganini, for in a sense he combined within himself the surrounding elements and influences. At the moment the public was just in the mood for Paganini, and the artist met the craving for excitement. He gave his first concert in the Opera House on March 9th, 1831, and notwithstanding that the prices of admission were tripled, the house was crammed. It would be impossible, says Fétis, to describe the enthusiasm with which the audience were seized when listening to the extraordinary artist, an enthusiasm approaching delirium, frenzy. Paganini's Studies had long been known to Parisian violinists, but they remained enigmas impossible of solution. At his third concert, March 25th, Paganini introduced a new concerto, in D minor, which, like so much of his music, is lost. In Paris the infamous persecution of the artist seems to have reached its climax. Fétis states that Paris was above all places hostile to Paganini, although that city had contributed more than any other place to the éclat of his success. His portrait was on every wall, and exhibited in the windows of print shops. Paganini himself stopped to look at one representing him in prison; and while scanning it with some amusement, found he was being surrounded by a crowd who were scrutinising him with close interest, evidently comparing his features with those of the lithograph. This was too much, and Paganini sought his friend Fétis, and confided to him his troubles, seeking his aid for their amelioration. Fétis requested Paganini to supply him with particulars, and then indited a long epistle, which, signed by Paganini, appeared in the Revue Musicale. Quotation may be deferred until the narration of Paganini's public career is completed, and a more detailed consideration of the character of the man and the artist is entered upon.
One incident that occurred during Paganini's visit to Paris may be related. The officers of the different legions of the National Guard combined to organise a grand ball to be held in the Opera House for the benefit of the poor. They thought it would add greatly to the attractions of the function if they could prevail upon Paganini to attend and play a few pieces. To ask for violin solos in a place prepared for a ball, and among an assemblage met for dancing, argued a very curious taste, or want of it. Paganini owed it to his dignity as an artist to refuse the invitation, which he did. For this he was bitterly assailed by a section of the press, and was compelled to publish a letter justifying himself.[19] He explained that he had already given up the Opera House, which was at his disposal, for the preparations for the ball, and that involved the loss of receipts for one concert—from 15,000 to 20,000 francs. He added that in Berlin, Vienna, and all the towns where he had continued any time, he made it a duty to perform for the benefit of the unfortunate; and he certainly should not leave Paris without devoting the proceeds of one of his soirées to the relief of the poor of that capital. He kept his word; gave the promised concert, and the poor profited by a refusal that was attributed to him as a crime.
Berlioz, then in Italy—he had just won the Grand Prix de Rome—passing through a crisis in his life, stayed a few days in Genoa. In his autobiography he wrote: "All Paris was raving about Paganini, while I, with my usual luck, was kicking my heels in his native town instead of listening to him. I tried to gather some information about their distinguished townsman from the Genoese, but found that, like other people engaged in commerce, they cared little for the fine arts, and spoke quite indifferently of the genius whom Germany, France and England had received with open arms. They could not even show me his father's house." So quickly and easily can one be forgotten! England had not yet received Paganini, but it was many years after this time that Berlioz penned his autobiography.
Liszt, in Paris, his first dream of love cruelly dispelled, shunned the world and buried himself in seclusion. For the time the artist within him was dead, and his thoughts turned to the priesthood. The revolution of 1830 awoke him. The Magyar blood was aroused, and sympathising with the people's struggles Liszt planned a Symphonie révolutionnaire. But it was Paganini who, the next year, touched Liszt as it were with a magic wand, and gave the direction to the genius and energy of the young artist. Of this more in its proper place. Early in May, 1831, Paganini left Paris for London.
CHAPTER V.
Fétis stated that Paganini's visit to London excited the most lively curiosity, but did not awake that intelligent interest which welcomed him in the Capital of France. This does not sound complimentary to London, but perhaps Fétis read some of the introductory comments of the press when Paganini was about to reach our shores. This is a specimen: "We shall talk of Paganini very much till he comes. When he arrives nobody will speak or think of anything else for nine, perhaps eighteen, days: he will be everywhere: all other violinists will be utterly forgotten: it will be agreed that the instrument was never before heard; that his predecessors were all tyros; all other fiddles mere kits. There will be Paganini rondos and waltzes; variations, long, short, hard, easy, all à la Paganini. We shall have Paganini hats, caps, etc., and the hair of all the beaux patronised by beauty, will be after his curious pattern. His influence will extend to our tables, and there will be Paganini puffs served up daily. Then, all at once, his very name will cease to be pronounced by persons of ton; and, as a matter of course, people not of ton—not of the Devonshire circle, not of Almack's—will imitate those who are: and the Italian player, like the penultimate fashion, will be utterly forgotten!—in good society. I will even allow him to flourish here two whole months, provided no new chin-chopper[20] arrive in the interim, no danseuse with a miraculous toe, to contest the supremacy of his wonderful bow: should any such rival enter the lists with him, his glory will set in less than a moon, and never blaze again above our fashionable horizon."[21]