ringlets falling over his shoulders, but physically he was a wreck. Yet no youthful artist of to-day has made a more sensational début than that of Paganini in the Austrian Capital in 1828. To repeat the oft-quoted account given by Schilling: "At the first stroke of the bow on his Guarnerius, one might almost say at the first step he took into the hall, his reputation was decided in Germany. Kindled as by an electric flash, he suddenly shone and sparkled like a miraculous apparition in the domain of art."

Another account, if less familiar, is equally interesting. In a letter from Vienna, addressed to the Literary Gazette, the writer says:—"The great novelty and prodigy of the day is one M. Paganini, an Italian performer on the violin.

"This is the first time he has left Italy; but I heard him previously, about five years ago, at Milan, in competition with M. Lafont, whom he beat fairly.[14] He is, without contradiction, not only the finest player on the violin, but no other performer, upon what instrument soever, can be styled his equal: Kalkbrenner, Rode, Romberg, Moscheles, Jew and Gentile, are his inferiors by at least some thousand degrees; they are not fit, as we say in Germany, to reach him water. He is Mathews of the violin, performs a whole concert on a single string, where you are sure to hear, besides his own instrument, a harp, a guitar, and a flute. In one word, he is a necromancer, and bids fair to beat la Giraffe. We have here hats, shawls, gloves and nonsense of every description, à la Giraffe; but yesterday I actually ate Auflaufy—a very innocent, rather insipid sweetmeat—à la Paganini.... He has already performed twice to crowded houses in our great masquerade-hall. The beginning of the concert was, as usual, advertised for half-past eleven [in the morning]: at eleven o'clock not a pin dropping from the roof would have reached the ground; people were already there at nine o'clock. He came hither with six florins in his pocket; now you may style him a warm man. From Vienna he intends to proceed to Paris, and thence to London."[15]

Here a brief digression is pardonable. The Pasha of Egypt, a short time before Paganini's visit, had presented to the Emperor of Austria a Giraffe, an animal then new to Europe. That interesting quadruped, a superb specimen of its kind, created such a sensation, and so completely absorbed public attention, that as seen in the letter just quoted, everything was à la Giraffe.[16] Paganini's phenomenal success gained him a popularity that quite eclipsed the poor Giraffe, and now the mode was à la Paganini. All kinds of articles were named after him; a good stroke at billiards was a coup à la Paganini; his bust in butter and crystallised sugar figured on every banquet table; and portraits, more or less faithful, adorned snuff-boxes, cigar-boxes, or were carved on the canes carried by the fops. Paganini himself went into a shop one day to buy gloves. "A la Giraffe?" asked the salesman. "No, no, some other animal," said the maestro, whereupon he was handed a pair à la Paganini! It is said that a certain driver, whom Paganini had once engaged, obtained permission to paint on his vehicle the words Cabriolet de Paganini, by which means he gained notoriety and enough money to set up as a hotel-keeper. Paganini was much sought after by the leaders of society and fashion; but Prince Metternich alone received the favour of a visit.

It may be remembered that Franz Schubert gave his first, and as it turned out, his only concert, in the hall of the Musik-Verein, Vienna, on the 26th of March, three days before that of Paganini. Schubert cleared over £30—the first piece of luck that came to the poor composer. The money flowed freely; he paid his five Gulden (something over six shillings) to hear Paganini, and went a second time, not so much for his own sake, as to take his friend Bauernfeld,[17] who had not five farthings, while with him (Schubert) "money was as plentiful as black-berries." Generous, simple Schubert! Did he and Paganini ever meet? What a pair they would have made!

Paganini's Vienna concerts were so successful that he increased the number from six to twelve. It is said that poor musicians actually sold their clothes to raise the needful in order to hear him; and that no halls were large enough to contain all who wished to attend his concerts. Paganini's last concert was given by express command of the Emperor of Austria, who honoured the occasion by his presence. Among other things, Paganini introduced the National hymn "God preserve the Emperor," which he performed with a truth and fervour of expression that seemed to impart a novelty even to so familiar a theme. He did some wonderful things on the G string, astonishing and delighting all present, especially rivetting the attention of the Emperor, who led the applause.

The Court Gazette announced that His Majesty, as a testimony of his admiration, had sent Paganini a diploma, appointing him one of the Emperor's chamber musicians, and exempting him from the usual fees of office; this was accompanied by a splendid gold snuff-box set with brilliants. The chief magistrate of Vienna presented Paganini with the gold medal of San Salvador; and, to crown all, a medal was struck in Paganini's honour. This, the work of J. Lang, has on the face a portrait in relief of the violinist, with the inscription:—

NICOLAO PAGANINI Vindobona

MDCCCXXVIII.

and on the back the words:—

Perituris Sonis non Peritura Gloria.

surrounding an open music book with the theme of the "Bell Rondo," upon which lies the famous Guarnerius wreathed with laurel. This was the city's parting gift to the great artist.

These doings were too good to escape the notice of the caricaturist, and a two-act piece was produced at the Theater an der Wien, entitled "The Counterfeit Virtuoso; or, the Concerto on the G string," the music by Kapellmeister Franz Gläser. The overture was ingeniously made up of the principal subjects of Paganini's concertos, ludicrously contrasted with counter subjects of a popular kind. Several of the quodlibets were full of humour, and, with the bon mots and anecdotes, tended to make it a very amusing production for the moment.

It was at Vienna that the rumour spread abroad of Paganini being in league with the Devil, which accounted for his marvellous performances. The great violinist was much disturbed and annoyed by these calumnies, and had to appeal to the press for aid in refuting them. It may be that his estrangement from the world, his love of solitude, morose temper, and the avarice which displayed itself, all had their origin in the hostile attitude assumed by a section of the public