In the year 1817 Rossini, Meyerbeer, and Paganini were at Rome during Carnival time, and the trio determined on a grand frolic. Rossini had composed a very clever part-song, "Carnavale, Carnavale," known in English as "We are Poor Beggars," and the three great musicians, having disguised themselves as beggars, sang it with great effect through the streets. Rossini during this Carnival produced his "Cenerentola," and Paganini gave a series of concerts which excited great enthusiasm.

Shortly after this, Paganini's health gave way completely at Naples, and the landlord of the hotel where he was stopping got the impression that his sickness was infectious. In the most brutal manner he turned the sick musician into the street. Fortunately, at this moment a violoncello player, Ciandelli, who knew Paga-nini well, was passing by, and came to the rescue, and his anger was so great, when he saw what had happened to the great violinist, that he belabored the barbarous landlord unmercifully with a stick, and conveyed the invalid to a comfortable lodging where he was carefully attended to. Some time subsequently Paganini had an opportunity of repaying this kindness, for he gave Ciandelli some valuable instruction, which enabled him in the course of a few years to become transformed from a very indifferent performer into an artist of considerable eminence.

At the age of thirty-six Paganini again found himself at Milan, and there organized a society of musical amateurs, called "Gli Orfei." He conducted several of their concerts. But either the love of a roving life or the necessity of wandering in order to fill his exchequer kept him constantly on the move; and, though during these travels he is said to have met with many extraordinary adventures, very little reliance can be placed upon the accounts that have come down to us, the more so when we consider that Paga-nini's mode of life was, as we shall see presently, become by this time extremely sober. It was not until he was forty-four years old that he finally quitted Italy to make himself better known in foreign countries. He had been encouraged to visit Vienna by Prince Metternich, who had heard and admired his playing at Rome in 1817, and had repeatedly made plans to visit Germany, but his health had been so wretched as to prevent his departure from his native country. But a sojourn in the balmy climate of Sicily for a few months had done him so much good that in 1828 he put his long-deferred plans into execution. The first concert in March of that year made an unparalleled sensation. He gave a great number of concerts in Vienna, among them several for the poor. A fever seized all classes of society. The shop windows were crowded with goods à la Paganini; a good stroke at billiards was called un coup à la Paganini; dishes Avere named after him; his portrait was enameled on snuff-boxes, and the Viennese dandies carried his bust on the head of their walking-sticks. A cabman wheedled out of the reluctant violinist permission to print on his cab, Cabriolet de Paganini. By this cunning device, Jehu so augmented his profits that he was able to rent a large house and establish a hotel, in which capacity Paganini found him when he returned again to Vienna.

Among the pleasant stories told of him is one similar to an incident previously related of Viotti. One day, as he was walking in Vienna, Paganini saw poor little Italian boy scraping some Neapolitan songs before the windows of a large house. A celebrated composer who accompanied the artist remarked to him, "There is one of your compatriots." Upon which Paganini evinced a desire to speak to the lad, and went across the street to him for that purpose. After ascertaining that he was a poor beggar-boy from the other side of the Alps, and that he supported his sick mother, his only relative, by his playing, the great violinist appeared touched. He literally emptied his pockets into the boy's hand, and, taking the violin and bow from him, began the most grotesque and extraordinary performance possible. A crowd soon collected, the great virtuoso was at once recognized by the bystanders, and when he brought the performance to an end, amid the cheers and shouts of all assembled, he handed round the boy's hat, and made a considerable collection of coin, in which silver pieces were very conspicuous. He then handed the sum to the young Italian, saying, "Take that to your mother," and, rejoining his companion, walked off with him, saying, "I hope I've done a good turn to that little animal." At Berlin, where he soon afterward astonished his crowded audiences by his marvelous playing, the same fanatical enthusiasm ensued; and, with the exception of Palermo, Naples (where he seems to have had many detractors), and Prague, his visits to the various cities of Europe were one continued triumph. People tried in vain to explain his method of playing, professors criticised him, and pamphlets were published which endeavored to make him out a quack or a charlatan. It was all to no purpose. Nothing could arrest his onward course; triumph succeeded triumph wherever he appeared; and, though no one could understand him, every one admired him, and he had only to touch his violin to enchant thousands. A curious scene occurred at Berlin, at a musical evening party to which Paganini was invited. A young and presumptuous professor of the violin performed there several pieces with very little effect; he was not aware of the presence of the Genoese giant, whom he did not know even by sight. Others, however, quickly recognized him, and he was asked to play, which he at first declined, but finally consented to do after urgent solicitation. Purposely he played a few variations in wretchedly bad style, which caused a suppressed laugh from those ignorant of his identity. The young professor came forward again and played another selection in a most pretentious and pointed way, as if to crush the daring wretch who had ventured to compete with him. Paganini again took up the instrument, and played a short piece with such touching pathos and astonishing execution, that the audience sat breathless till the last dying cadence wakened them into thunders of applause, and hearts thrilled as the name "Paganini" crept from mouth to mouth. The young professor had already vanished from the room, and was never again seen in the house where he had received so severe a lesson.

Paganini repeated his triumphs again the following year, performing in Vienna and the principal cities of Germany, and everywhere arousing similar feelings of admiration. Orders and medals were bestowed on him, and his progress was almost one of royalty. His first concert in Paris was given on March 9, 1831, at the opera-house. He was then forty-seven years old, and Castil-Blaze described him as being nearly six feet in height, with a long, pallid face, brilliant eyes, like those of an eagle, long curling black hair, which fell down over the collar of his coat, a thin and cadaverous figure-altogether a personality so gaunt and delicate as to be more like a shadow than a man. The eyes sparkled with a strange phosphorescent gleam, and the long bony fingers were so flexible as to be likened only to "a handkerchief tied to the end of a stick." Petis describes the impression he created at his first concert as amounting to a "positive and universal frenzy." Being questioned as to why he always performed his own compositions, he replied "that, if he played other compositions than his own, he was obliged to arrange them to suit his own peculiar style, and it was less trouble to write a piece of his own." Indeed, whenever he attempted to interpret the works of other composers, he failed to produce the effects which might have been expected of him. This was especially the case in the works of Beethoven.

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