This last visit of Paganini to England had a romantic termination. He had separated from Signora Bianca on account of her jealous temper, and had fallen in love with a young English girl—that is if current report may be trusted. He proposed, for the purpose of securing her a proper legal settlement, that the marriage should take place in Paris, and he left London on June 26th, arranging for her to follow him to Boulogne. The young lady secretly left her home, but her father had his suspicions, and apparently arrived at Boulogne first, for the daughter, instead of meeting Paganini, was confronted, on landing, by her father, with whom she returned home. There is no doubt as to the occurrence, for it was "in the papers," and names were given. Schilling, whose Encyclopædia was published in 1837, gives a long account of the affair, which he would not have done had there been no truth in it, even though the law of libel was not then very stringent. Here it will suffice to say that the young lady was the daughter of a man with whom Paganini lodged, and who was associated with the concert work of the artist. Moreover, the girl herself had, it would seem, sung at some of the concerts, and had become fascinated with the great violinist.
The incident might be passed over, only for the fact that to it was owing the impression that Paganini visited America before returning to Italy. Dubourg, in the later editions of his work "The Violin," states that Paganini spent part of his time in America, previous to his return to Italy in 1834. Now George Dubourg was a contemporary of Paganini, and his statement is not to be dismissed lightly, though he offers no evidence in support of it. At the present time it is difficult to find proof, one way or the other. The American papers in 1835 were speculating as to the birthplace of Paganini, and some of the explanations were meant to be funny, but are too vapid for repetition now. The Musical World for August 4th, 1837, in quoting an anecdote concerning Paganini's kindness to a poor musician, ends by saying Paganini took the poor man with him to America. The question was raised in the Musical World for January the 9th, 1886, and decided in the negative. The legend had this slender foundation. In the early part of 1835, the young lady whom Paganini wished to marry, went to the United States—she was an actress and vocalist of moderate ability—but her stay was brief. Still, everybody wished to see her, for wherever she went she was looked upon as the heroine of a romantic episode, and her name was always coupled with Paganini's. The story of the elopement had been carried across the Atlantic by scandal's winged feet; and it was said that Paganini sent a special messenger to America to reopen negotiations on the delicate subject—arrangements that came to nothing. The agent might have been taken, by Dubourg, for the principal—hence the mistake. Paganini never went to America, neither did he again return to the shores of Albion.
CHAPTER VII.
In the summer of 1834, Paganini, after an absence of six years, returned to his native land. He was now a rich man, and he invested part of his fortune in landed property, purchasing, among others, the Villa Gajona, near Parma, which he made his home—the first he could really call his own, and he was in his fifty-second year! His health was irretrievably broken down; he suffered from consumption of the larynx, and was losing the power of speech. He now sought peace and quiet, and thought of preparing for publication a complete edition of his compositions, which, if he had accomplished it, might have led to the explanation of his alleged secret. In November, or December, Paganini gave a concert at Piacenza—on the very same boards where he almost began his brilliant career—for the benefit of the poor; this was the first time he had been heard in Italy since 1828. The year 1835, Paganini passed alternately at Genoa, Milan, and his villa near Parma. The cholera then raging at Genoa was the cause of the rumour of Paganini's death. The dread scourge had claimed him for a victim, it was said, and the Continental journals devoted columns to him in the form of obituary notices.
The only English contribution to the necrology of Paganini known to me was written by Chorley in the Athenæum. It is both interesting and curious: for Chorley manages to squeeze in his account of Paganini at the Dublin festival, which the editor evidently cut out in 1831. That scarcely concerns us now, though it relates that the furore caused by Paganini's performance could not be appeased until he had mounted the grand pianoforte, in order that the audience might obtain a better view of his lank proportions! An extract from his notice must be given. It begins thus:—"E Morto!—the words which the silent and absorbed man murmured to himself, in a tone of deep feeling, after listening to one of Beethoven's magnificent symphonies, are now—alas!—to be uttered sadly for their speaker—Paganini is dead!
"We would fain believe that the newspaper reports are in error.... Let us hope that the intelligence from Genoa, received this week [September], that the artist had been carried off by the sudden and fearful death of cholera, may, by some happy chance, prove one of those 'mistakes which it gives them pleasure to contradict.' But, should it not then, indeed, may Music put on sackcloth and sit in ashes for her High Priest!" Then follows an "appreciation," to use a modern expression, to which reference may be made later.
Chorley was an impressionable young man, in his twenty-third year, when he attended the Dublin festival, and so excited did he become over Paganini's performances, that he gave vent to his feelings in verse. That poem he now inserted in the Athenæum, "as a farewell to one whose like we shall never hear again!" There are really fine thoughts in the poem, and, though too long to quote in its entirety, a few stanzas may well be rescued from the periodical in which they are buried.