Dublin held her first Musical Festival from August 30th to September 3rd, 1831, and in connection with this event, it is interesting to note, Henry Fothergill Chorley contributed his first musical criticism to the AthenÆum.[25] There was very little about Paganini, but much about the oratorio, "The Triumph of Faith," of Ferdinand Ries. It may be observed, in passing, that in the first half of the nineteenth century musical festivals were more numerous than they are now—there were five in 1831. With the exception of those given in York Minster (1823-1835), they were not on the large scale of the principal present day celebrations; but they were relatively of more importance, inasmuch as there were then fewer musical centres beyond the metropolis, and small towns would have had little music but for those periodic gatherings.

Dublin's scheme was ambitious; for Paganini's fees for the three evening concerts was 500 guineas. Braham and Henry Phillips were among the vocalists engaged, and the latter, in his "Musical Recollections," gives a very interesting and amusing account of Paganini at the festival. No one seemed to know how Paganini arrived in Dublin, which gave rise to a vague idea that he was wafted across by the Flying Dutchman. Where he lodged was equally a mystery. He arrived at the stage door of the Theatre Royal on the evening of the first concert, and immediately ordered an apartment to be got ready, and the room to be perfectly darkened. There he paced up and down, playing snatches of his music until the time for his dÉbut before a Dublin audience.

The Theatre was crammed to suffocation. The Lord Lieutenant and his Suite attended in State, and all the Élite of Dublin were in the dress tier. When the Conductor, Sir George Smart, led Paganini to the centre of the stage there was a terrific outburst of applause, followed by breathless silence, as the great artist went through his deliberate process of adjusting his violin, raising his bow, and letting it rest upon the strings before commencing. This was too trying to the mercurial temperament of the occupants of the gallery, and before many seconds there was a stentorian shout, "Well! we're all ready!" The house was convulsed with laughter, peal after peal rang through the theatre. Paganini, stamping with rage, turned to Sir George Smart, and cried, "Qu'est ce que c'est?" The explanation seemed to make matters worse, and Paganini left the orchestra. Some time elapsed before he could be induced to return; but when he did so, and began to play, he created the same effect as elsewhere. The next day everybody was exclaiming: "Ah! sure, have you heard the Paganini; och murther! and his fiddle?" Such is the account Henry Phillips gives, but it is not easy to attach credence to all he has put in his book.

At one of the concerts Paganini played the concerto in B minor, with the Rondo À la clochette, when an excited Hibernian shouted above the storm of applause, "Arrah now, Signor Paganini, have a drop of whiskey, darling, and ring the bell again!" Paganini's departure from Dublin was as mysterious as his arrival. On his return to London he failed to attract much attention, and seems to have been mostly on tour in the provinces and in Scotland. One incident in London was so singular that it deserves mention. Carlyle was supposed to have taken a walk with Paganini. Fancy "the Sage of Chelsea" in company with "the magician of the bow"! Thomas Carlyle was in London in 1831 vainly negotiating for the publication of "Sartor Resartus." One day his friend, Edward Irving, took him to Belgrave Square to dine with Henry Drummond. They walked along Piccadilly, thronged with fashionable promenaders; and as both men were of pecular personal appearance, they doubtless attracted some attention. This is what Carlyle subsequently wrote:—"Irving, I heard afterward, was judged, from the broad hat, brown skin, and flowing black hair, to be in all probability the one-string fiddler, Paganini—a tall, lean, taciturn abstruse-looking figure—who was then, after his sort, astonishing the idle of mankind."[26] Carlyle has said many true, and many beautiful things about music, but one may search his writings in vain for a good word about musicians!

In December of this year (1831) Paganini was announced to play in Bristol. The following "squib" or lampoon was issued:—

PAGANINI.
To the Citizens of Bristol.

Fellow Citizens,—It is with feelings of unqualified disgust that I witness the announcement of Signor Paganini's Performance to take place in this City: Why at this period of Distress? With the recollection of so many scenes of misery still fresh in our minds, and whilst Subscriptions are required to the extent of our means in order to Feed and Clothe the Poor: why is this Foreign Fiddler now to appear? for the purpose of draining those resources which would be infinitely better applied in the exercise of the best feeling of man—Charity. Do not suffer yourselves to be imposed upon by the Payment of Charges which are well worthy the name of extortion; rather suffer under the imputation of a want of Taste than support any of the tribe of Foreign Music-Monsters, who collect the Cash of this Country and waft it to their own shores, laughing at the infatuation of John Bull.

December 10th, 1831. PHILADELPHUS.

A. Saint. Typ. Castle Printing Office, 54, Castle Street, Bristol.

Paganini's concerts at Leeds, early in 1832, were so well managed that, out of the profits, a liberal donation was presented to the fund for the relief of the poor. At Birmingham, in February of that year, his visit caused such an influx of strangers to the town, that neither lodgings nor stabling could meet the demand made upon them. A popular song was written for the occasion, and the streets rang with it long after the violinist had left the place. Two lines ran thus:—

At Brighton some time earlier, the high prices were nearly causing a riot, through the issue of an inflammatory placard against them. Mr. William Gutteridge, a well-known musician of that place, who had arranged for the concerts, had to ask the protection of the magistrates, but fortunately no outbreak occurred. The squabbles about prices, the charges of avarice brought against Paganini, and the acrimonious tone of part of the press, afford melancholy reading. His gains were said to reach £20,000. In March, 1832, he left London for Paris. There, he gave a concert for the poor on March 18th. He did not stay very long in France, and on his way again to this country, occurred the incident referred to as one of the indignities to which he was subjected. This is the story.

Paganini having to pass through Boulogne on his way to England, decided to give a concert in that town, which boasted of a Philharmonic Society. Paganini deputed a friend to arrange for that Society to assist at the concert.

All seemed going well until Paganini arrived on the scene, when the amateurs stipulated for a certain number of free admissions for their friends and families, as a recognition for their assistance. Paganini represented to them that in a small concert room so many free admissions would leave little room for the paying public, and he could not accede to their demand. However, they would not give way, so Paganini declared his intention to engage a professional band. This did not suit the views of the amateurs, and they threatened the professional players with the loss of patronage and pupils if they dared assist Paganini; and the unfortunate artists, dependent as they were upon that support, had to refuse the offer made them. But Paganini was not to be baffled; he determined to give the concert, and to perform without any accompaniment at all. This he did; and now came the ludicrous sequel. A number of those amateurs actually paid for admission to the concert, on purpose to hiss the independent artist. This they did as soon as he entered the concert-room. Despising such petty spite, Paganini entrusted his revenge to his art, and the rapturous plaudits of the audience proper soon reduced to a pitiable silence those who had offered so gross an insult. As a writer said at the time: "The amateurs of Boulogne have earned for themselves a niche in the history of the art—they have hissed Paganini."

To digress, for a moment. Paganini's performance, solus, was a recital pure and simple; perhaps the first ever given in a concert room. In Grove's "Dictionary of Music and Musicians" there is this definition: "Recital, a term which has come into use in England to signify a performance of solo music by one instrument and one performer." It was probably first used by Liszt, in 1840, when he advertised his performances as "Recitals." The first was given at the Hanover Square Rooms, on June 9th, and was called by the Musical World a curious exhibition. The "one man show," as the recital has been irreverently termed, may not conduce to the highest interest of art, but Paganini—not Liszt—was its inventor.

Paganini made his rentrÉe at Covent Garden Theatre on July 6th, but he did not appear to have played anything new. Neither did he attract much attention, and little need be said respecting his visit. He was back again in London in 1833, but was out of favour, and was advised to postpone his concerts until the public anger, caused by his refusal to play for the distressed English actors in Paris, had subsided. His first concert was given in the King's Theatre, on June 21st, when apparently he played nothing new, and had but a small audience. The press in general appeared to be hostile—the AthenÆum did not notice him at all—and it is probable that his stay was not prolonged. He was in Paris later in the year, and was present at the concert given by Berlioz on the 22nd of December, when he heard the Symphonie Fantastique, and was so impressed that he wished Berlioz to write a solo for the wonderful Stradivari viola he possessed.[27]

Between Paganini and Berlioz there was a mutual attraction. Both had something of the volcanic in their nature; both did much battling with the hostile outer world. But more of their friendship later.

Paganini was in London once more in 1834, and gave a concert at the Adelphi Theatre on April 7th. Again nothing new, according to report. The next morning he gave a second concert at the Hanover Square Rooms, at which it was said not more than one hundred persons were present, and half of those went in with free tickets. The erstwhile popular idol was now dethroned. Paganini fell ill after this, and postponed his third concert.

The AthenÆum referred to Paganini's playing to crowded houses at the Adelphi, and empty benches at the Hanover Square Rooms, and then went on to say: "His performance on the Viol di Gamba,[28] or some such instrument, is yet to come as is also a duet with Dragonetti, which, we are told, is to be the ne plus ultra of what is beautiful and amazing. He has, hitherto, only repeated his best compositions, and, as before, left every other violinist, ancient and modern, at an inconceivable distance behind him." This concert was to be the last, which induced the writer of the AthenÆum notice to attend it. He found the "new instrument" nothing but a full-sized viola, tuned in the ordinary way. "Considering the difference of stop between this and the violin, his precision and brilliancy upon the former, as displayed in double stop passages, harmonics, and arpeggi, of extraordinary difficulty, were most amazing.... In his grand concerto in E flat, his cadenza was one of the most wonderful combinations of novel harmony, and passages of execution, we ever heard." Apparently the duet with Dragonetti was not played, as nothing was said of it.

The directors of the music at the Oxford Commemoration week, May, 1834, were anxious to add Paganini's name to the attractions offered. He was approached, accordingly, and, through his manager, announced his terms—one thousand pounds. Astounded by the answer, the Oxford Delegate desired that it might be committed to writing. This was done, but when shown to Paganini, he directed that guineas should be substituted for pounds. He knew that art was not commerce! There is no record of his playing at Oxford.

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.