LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 546, 18 March 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

PAGANINI. {Concluded.') This keen, heart-stirring tone hovered in the air like a clear, trembling star for a little space of time, and then the powerful fingers moved, the bow flashed up and down like lightning over the strings. It was as if that first keen tone had dispelled itself into a rain of soft, refreshing notes; as though the star had burst, and fallen to the ground in beauteous fragments. Paganini kept his audience on entranced from that moment. Melting passages, in which harp-like tones blended, were exchanged for full sounds as of a mighty host of instruments, in which the waves of melody roared and jostled against each other in their exuberance. All eyes were drawn, as by a magnet, to the wonderful player. No sound came through the whole house to disturb the attention of the audience ; except, now and then, that of a hysterical, smothered sob, which gave evidence of some overstrained and excited nerves. When the music had ceased those present still sat on, as if under an enchanted tree, silent and scarcely breathing; but when Paganini bowed, with a malicious smile curling up his lips, the enthusiasm of delight manifested knew no limits. It was as if an earthquake shook the house. The musician had nobly revenged himself upon the public, and had forced them to admire instead of ridiculing him. But his soul hankered after a revenge of a different sort. He hobbled to the very front of the platform, with his violin still in his hand. He lifted his bow and stooped to begin afresh. Breathless stillness, as before. From the magical instrument there suddenly burst out a perfect simulation of a donkey’s bray : ‘ E—-ah ! E—ah !’ No ass in the country could have done it better. Everyone looked at everyone else in horrified surprise. The musician bowed again, and, with his cynical smile still on his lips, said, ‘ This for those v h ) hissed before, and laughed 1’ The result was electrical. The enthusiasts applauded, clapped, and laughed, but the greater number of those present burst into a storm of wrath, filling the air with abusive epithets, The Ferrarese in the house took the joke as specially personal to them, as it was very much the custom of the surrounding aristocracy to nickname the city folk asses, and to greet them with ‘ E—ahs, when it was their pleasure to insult them. Long after Paganini had taken refuge in his hotel, and had locked himself up from all the world, as was his custom, the storm he had raised still raged within the theatre. The police had at last to interfere between the two parties. With wounded bodies, and torn clothes, the greater number of those present left the building; watches, _ chains, and all other ornaments having, in most cases, disappeared totally. Lord M and his daughter were of course amongst those whose admiration and reverence for the great master had only been increased by the night’s

occurrences. Amongst all his enthusiastic followers, -they were, perhaps, the very warmest and most devoted. At the table d’hote next day, the conversation naturally turned entirely on the previous evening’s entertainment. The greater number of voices were united in condemning the musician for his joke, and in criticising his whole character and behaviour severely. Lord M—— observed that a middle-aged gentleman sitting opposite to him seemed continually about to take part in the conversation, but as often checked himself with a visible effort. At last, when some very censorious remarks were made on Paganini, he burst out into vehement defence, as though he were well acquainted with everything concerning the mu?ician’s private life. His whole air and imanner was that of one who says to himself inwardly, *lf you all knew what I know, you would not talk so foolishly.’ When dinner was over, Lord M succeeded in establishing an acquaintance with this gentleman ; and, during subsequent intercourse, he was induced to confide many interesting particulars concerning Paganini to the nobleman and Lady Arabella, He told how he had first made acquaintance with the genius. He was at a wedding one day in Florence, and, in the evening, he and the other guests were amusing themselves with jests and laughter on the banks of the Arno. Music and song also beguiled the time, and he was sitting down, playing on a guitar to a circle of admiring listeners, when on a sudden, with a cry of affright, the little company started aside, surprised at the appearance of a tall, pale man, with black dishevelled hair flying about him, and with wild, gleaming eyes. This strange figure strode up to the player, took the instrument from his astonished hand, and began to play in his turn, gesticulating excitedly the while. The music he brought forth seemed to those who listened perfectly divine; hut with a harsh chord he suddenly broke off, and, as if in an access of rage, dashed the guitar to pieces against a tree, and then disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, and as unexpectedly. The following day the wedding guests learned that their strange entertainer was Paganini, whom the Grand Duchess had bidden to the Court to give a concert. It may be imagined how carefully the teller of the tale treasured up the broken fragments of the guitar. He was as much surprised as pleased a few days later, w hen the great master came to him with an apology for the odd jest he had played, and offering a liberal recompense for the harm done. This latter was naturally refused; but a friendship between the two, thus strangely brought together, was the result of the interview. They travelled about continually in company, and the musician had received trusty service from Lord M ’s new acquaintance, and had given him hia fullest confidence. This latter entreated the nobleman and his daughter not to give credence to the many tales circulated to the disadvantage and discredit of his friend. Knowing that he spoke to trustworthy ears and sympathising hearts, he confided to them the true secret of the great master’s strongly developed peculiarities and misanthropy. While at the Florentine Court, a certain noble lady had conceived for him a violent passion, which caused him much discomfort. It was entirely and exclusively on her side, his heart being given to a lovely young girl, the daughter of a rich merchant in the city. She was also much attached to him. Unfortunately, she betrayed her feelings one evening at one of Paganini’s concerts. During an effective pause made by him in playing, she heaved a deep sigh. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she was near fainting. Her lover betrayed uneasiness concerning her, and went to the front of the boards, looking towards where she sat. Everyone saw the two exchange glances. Suddenly a strange gentleman made his way to the young girl’s side, took her hand, and whispered some words in her ear. She grew deadly pale, but allowed him to lead her away, A few curious persons crept out after the pair, and saw them driving quickly away in a black carriage. Whither tliey went is unknown, but the girl was seen no more in Florence, Nearly everyone laid the blame of her disappearance on Paganini. Two of the girl’s relations challenged him on her account. He stabbed them both, one after the other. Later, he also disappeared mysteriously for a very lengthened period. His friend vowed never to rest until he had found him out; and at last, after three years’ searching, he discovered him imprisoned in castle in Tuscany belonging to some relatives of the lost girl. He was confined, in a gloomy dungeon ; his only furniture a broken table, an old chair, a miserable bed, and a water jug; his only solace some writing materials, which he had made use of in putting on paper many musical compositions, and his beloved violin, of which, however,' every string but one had, by degrees, become useless. Nevertheless, he contriv. d still to play on this one string, so as to delight his own heart, and the hearts of all who listened to him. His jailors were so much attached to him that it was with their connivance that his friend succeeded in releasing him from his sad captivity. Lord M and Lady Arabella so entreated of their new acquaintance to get them a personal interview with Paganini, that at last he did what he could to please them by introducing them secretly into a garden where he knew his friend was, and whence he could not easily escape. It was late in the evening, and was growing dusk, but they could see the musician listlessly stretched at full length upon the grass, with his back turned to them. At some slight noise, however, which betrayed their presence, he started hastily up, drew the loose cloak he wore over his face, and with one bound disappeared from their sight into a sheltering grove of trees. Paganini died at the age of fifty-six, in the year 1840, after a year of painful wasting sickness. It was -in the night of the 27th of May that he breathed his last. He awoke suddenly out of a peaceful sleep, feeling refreshed, and, as he thought, re-invigorated. He drew aside the curtain of his bed and looked out into the night. His windows were open, and the soft balmy Italian air was filling all the room with sweet freshness. The moon had risen, and was pouring a flood of light across his bed, but his eyes were dim, and to him everything seemed overshadowed. He stretched out his hand, we are told, and grasped his beloved violin, which always lay beside him. He took up his bow, and endeavoured to bring some sound out of the instrument. But the magic power and strength had left his fingers, and when he found that his efforts were in vain, he fell back on his pillow broken-hearted, and sighed his soul away.