NICOLO PAGANINI, "il divino maestro," the most celebrated violin-player of the age, has excited more attention during the last twenty years, than all the rest of the herd of European" lions" that annually burst upon the poor public, and frighten the world by the immensity of their roars. The horrible charges made against Paganini's early life, his wild unearthly form and haggard face, the transcendent nature of his professional abilities, and the exaggerated reports of his peculiarities, have given him a notoriety that even his wonderful talents could not have attained alone. The common places of Paganini's life are generally known. He was born at Genoa-he is proud of his native city, yet knows that the city has good cause to be proud of her son. He generally mentions his birth. place thus: " At Genoa, both Paganini and Columbus were born." His father, who squandered his earnings in lottery tickets, kept his son in close confinement, and compelled him to almost perpetual practice on the violin. Want, not only of exercise and recreation, but of wholesome food, broke the boy's health, and seriously impaired his constitution. Paganini always reverts to this unnatural brutality, (unnatural, because his enthusiasm required no stimulus.) as the primeval cause of his pale, sickly countenance, and his sunk and exhausted frame. Several eminent musicians took early notice of the young Genoese-Gnecco, Paer, Golla, and Ginetti as sisted him with their instruction and advice. Like other youthful prodigies, Paganini was dragged about | like, gliding, twisting, and dancing about the neck of the country to display his precocious talent, and his the violin, like living creatures, revelling with faymercenary father made good speculations with him at like ecstasy in the unearthly nature of its sounds. Florence, Milan, Bologna, Leghorn, and Pisa. The His chest, scarcely a hand's length in breadth, was spare diet and discipline of the old gentleman became ensuite with the frightful spareness that characterised more irksome than ever; young Paganini threw off his whole formation. His face, pallid as a corse, was the yoke of parental tyranny; and, at the age of fifteen, rendered perfectly hideous by the variations of excommenced vagabondising upon his own account, visit-pression conjured up by the sound of his own uning the city of Lucca, famous for its oil and silks, and equalled tones. appearing as a solo player at the great musical festival on the feast of St. Martin with more than customary Fortune smiled upon the young itinerant; he visited all parts of Italy, and attained the very pinnacle of popularity. success. Those who know any thing of the gay, romantic life which artists in Italy, particularly those connected with the all-engrossing subject of music, usually lead, the diversified society in which they mingle, and the incident and adventure which they meet with, will not wonder that Paganini should have been inclined to pass his days there, among his own countrymen, who felt and appreciated his talent, and received him upon all occasions with the most enthusiastic applause; showering down upon him all the gold they could afford, with the lighter but not less acceptable flatteries of flowers, sonnets, and garlands. He loved the manners of his country; its beautiful scenery, its climate, but their kindred souls were still more congenial to his heart. He was their idol; wherever he went, his fame had preceded his approach, and multitudes poured in to hear him in streams as if he had been a worker of miracles. Concerts seldom succeed in Italy, —a country where the best music may be had at all hours in the day—but Paganini never failed. At Milan he gave nineteen concerts, rapidly succeeding each other, with the most brilliant success. People seemed never to be satiated with the delight of hear ing him. At Naples and Florence, he was eminently triumphant, and at Rome the order of the Speron d'Oro, (Golden Spur,) was conferred upon him by his Holiness the Pope. Paganini remained content with the homage of his countrymen, till the year 1828, when he journeyed to the city of Vienna, then honoured by the presence of the emperor and his court. The violinist's concerts were as successful as usual, and his performances excited the admiration of all the musical professors and connoisseurs that usually crowd this critical city. Competition was out of the case; a new era was proclaimed, and Mayseder, a musician of considerable eminence, declared that he might as well break his fiddle to pieces, for he should be compelled to lock it up for ever. The miraculous powers of Paganini were not to be accounted for in the usual way. In the opinion of his auditors, they must have sprung from the life of a much more settled and secluded cast than that of an itinerant Italian musical professor. It was resolved, too, from his wild, haggard, and mysterious looks that he was no ordinary personage, and had seen no common vicissitudes. The generally received opinion was that he had committed some horrible crime, and having been consigned by the Pope to an imprisonment of several years, had employed that time in unceasing practice upon the violin; and that his wonderful skill upon a single string was owing to the jailor's cruelty in refusing his prisoner more than one at a time. All persons agreed as to the imprisonment, but his crime was variously stated. Some insisted that he had been a captain of banditti ; others affirmed that he had been a carbonari; some said that he had killed two or more men in duels; but the current report was that he had stabbed or poisoned his wife, or rather one of his mistresses-for he was said to have maintained a seraglio of beauties. A scandalous story attached to the reputation of a public character is always believed by the inane and envious, although the falsehood be as evident as the noon-day sun. But Paganini had an interest in exciting the attention of the world, and in maintaining that excitement at its utmost height. His own actions had considerable weight in framing the above ridiculous reports. His romantic gaiety and love of gallantry in his younger days, were constantly prompting him to seek adventures and amusement by assuming different disguises and characters. Indeed, the pleasure which he felt in making his audience stare and gape with astonishment, was not always confined to the concertroom-it would seem that he would sometimes draw a long bow of another description, and enliven the conversation by retailing anecdotes of his own invention. His masquerading propensities frequently found vent in travelling, and among strangers where he was not known. Upon one occasion, finding himself seated vis-a-vis in a diligence with a very rich but not a very bright fellow passenger, he contrived to dispel the tedium of the journey by passing himself off for a certain well-known brigand, whose name at that time spread consternation and alarm throughout all Ro full share of expected terror from the other passenger, was any thing but belied by the personal appearance of the speaker. Paganini was then forty-four years of age; of moderate stature, but considerable addition was given to the height of his appearance by the excessive attenu-magna-and this announcement, which produced the ation of his body and limbs. His countenance possessed a saturnine melancholy-occasionally illumined by a sardonic movement intended for a smile, but little calculated to inspire joy or evince delight. Curl. ing black hair hung about his throat, and descended to his shoulders. His arms were long and thin, and his fingers flexible as wires-white, slim, and snake Some idea may thus be formed of the origin of the various accusations against the Genoese-accusations of every shade of crime, according to the conscience of the accuser. One of Paganini's biographers declares forms the motley visiters to the Carnival, and gives a spirited idea of the merry maskers, of the young lover watching his mistress, of the lady's dance, of the squeaking of Polichinello, the drunken mutterings of an inebriate, the braying of the trumpet, the noise of the drums, the children's laughter, the joyous advance of a noisy troop, and the feeble revelry of an aged couple. It is impossible to give even a faint idea of the various effects produced by the maestro in this inimitable performance. The same air is repeated with every possible variation of feeling, till the senses of the auditory are lost in wonder and delight. that the Germans, with their old love of diablerie, as- Paganini never deemed it necessary to deny the manifold allegations brought against him, till the charge of murdering his wife assumed a positive and distinct form. On the 10th of April, 1828, there was inserted in the leading Vienna journals a manifesto, in Italian as well as German, subscribed by him, declaring that all these widely circulated rumours were false; that at no time, and under no government whatever, had he ever offended against the laws, or been put under coercion—and that he had always demeaned himself as became a peaceable and inoffensive member of society; for the truth of which he referred to the magistracies of the different states under whose protection he had lived in the exercise of his profession. The truth of this appeal has never been denied. The signor's gains have been enormous-he netted upwards of one hundred thousand dollars during the winter months of his first year in London-his half share of the proceeds of one concert at the King's Theatre, amounted to three thousand, five hundred Paganini has been accused, not only of a meanness in money affairs, but of a positive greediness—a grasp ing quality, evinced in positive refusals to abate the smallest portion of his enormous terms, even when the receipts were not equal to the discharge of his claim alone. Several violent philippics have been thundered against him for refusing to perform gratuitously at charity concerts, or benefits of widows and orphans of brother professors. These claims are undoubtedly too often forced upon the kindness of popular artistes ; and the sole attraction of the evening's amusements is frequently required to give his or her services for nothing, while the manager makes his charge, the printer and other tradesmen exact their bills, and the committee of patrons, free from the possibility of expense, seldom pay for their own admissions. But Paganini claims exemption, not on the score of principle, but from a positive love of money, evinced not only in matters of pounds and dollars, but in trifling affairs of shillings and cents. When receiving one thousand dollars for his exertions, he has been known to refuse procedure unless furnished with a glass of negus at the manager's expense. His meanness involves him in constant quarrels, when travelling; and he has more than once been in danger of an abrupt termination to his wonderful careerer-particularly at Cheltenham, in England, where he refused to fulfil his engagements because the theatre was not more than half full. The mob followed him to his hotel, forced him from his bed, and compelled him to return to the theatre, and play the pieces announced in the bills of the evening. Paganini's success in England was of the most brilliant kind; he had to encounter a severe opposition to the enormity of his terms, for even the opera dilletantes murmured at paying twenty-five dollars admission to his concert, as originally proposed. The artiste strenuously insisted upon his right to make what charge he liked the musical public threatened, the press interfered, the manager conciliated, and Paganini condescended to play for the usual opera price of admission-five dollars to the boxes, and two and a half to the pit. Every difficulty was forgotten when once the public were enabled to listen to his wonderful It has been stated that the immense gains of this performances-not only wonderful in the display of extraordinary man are immediately transferred to the transcendant musical ability, graced with an unequal- green cloth of the gaming table; and that in the exled brilliancy of execution, but in the nature of his citement of the salon, he finds a perpetual and gratiperformances the novelty of the harmonics-the piz-fying pastime. At the same time, it is but fair to adzicate with the left finger-the staceato-his as-mit that this rumor may be as false as all the others, tonishing concertos upon one string-his curious fantasias the fidelity of his imitation of almost every possible tone-the chirruping of birds, the tinkling and tolling of bells, the above-mentioned mysteries of The Sorceries, and the variety and humour of the Carnival of Venice, wherein by the repetitions of a simple air, divided into three parts, of sixteen bars each, he per for no positive evidence can be adduced of its truth; but if his astonishing earnings during many years of unexampled success have actually been saved, then must Paganini be one of the richest commoners of the age. The maestro resided for many years with a Signora Antonia Bianchi, a singer from Palermo, but, in the took a great pinch of snuff, and went with new zeal to search for the remaining articles, always followed by the little fellow, who enjoyed it vastly when he saw his papa searching in places where he knew nothing was hid. At last we went out, and Paganini shut the door of the apartment, leaving behind him, lying about on the tables and in the cupboards, rings, year 1828, he was compelled to decline all further acquaintance, on account of the dreadful violence of her temper. By this lady, he had an only son, now fourteen years of age, and exactly resembling the father in every possible respect. This little fac simile rejoices in the euphonious classicalities of Achillino, Lyrus, Alexander Paganini, and possesses a wonderful portion of musical talent. His father is distracted-watches, gold, and, what I most wondered at, his most ly fond of him, and ever since he parted from his mother, has enacted the part of the child's nurse. The following description, written in 1828, may give the reader some idea of the two Paganini's. It was furnished by a gentleman who happened to call at the maestro's lodgings at Prague, in order to take him out to dinner. Every thing was lying in its usual disorder; here one violin, there another; one snuff-box on the bed, another under one of the boy's playthings. Music, money, caps, letters, watches, and boots were scatter ed about in the utmost confusion. The chairs, tables, and even the bed, had all been removed from their proper places. In the midst of the chaos sat Paganini, his black silk nightcap covering his still blacker hair, a yellow handkerchief carelessly tied round his neck, and a chocolate-coloured handkerchief hanging loose upon his shoulders. On his knees he held Achillino, his little son of four years of age, at that time in very bad humour, because he had to allow his hands to be washed. precious violins. Any idea of the insecurity of his property never entered his head; and fortunately for him, in the lodgings which he occupied, the people were honest. "The day being cold, Paganini had put on a monstrous cloak. And, as he was afraid that Achillino might catch cold, he took him up in his arms and carefully lapped him over and over with it. The little one, who wanted to breathe more freely, soon poked his head out; it was like a fine spring day in the arms of winter. Paganini never plays from the notes in public. He glides quietly upon the stage of the theatre, or the platform of the concert room, with his magic fiddle in one hand, and a bow of more than usual length in the other. He acknowledges the greetings of the audience by an excessively awkward bow, dropping his arms straight down before him, and bending, or rather stooping his head and neck. When he commences playing, his face is pale and tranquil, but as he proceeds, it becomes lighted up with enthusiasm, and, ever and anon, at the finish of some wonderful burst, or after the execution of some startling phrase, he throws up his bow arm with a kind of triumphant jerk that seldom fails in producing a respondent cheer from his delighted auditory. It is a curious sight to watch him during the performance of a long and diffi His affectionate forbearance is truly extraordinary. Let the boy be ever so troublesome, he never gets angry, but merely turns round and observes to those present, the poor child is wearied; I do not know what I shalt do, I am already quite worn out with playing with him. I have been fighting with him all the morning. I have carried him about; made him cho-cult concerto; to observe the intensity of his devotion colate; I do not know what more to do.' It was enough to make one die of langhing to see Paganini in his slippers fighting with his little son, who reached to about his knee; sometimes the little Achillino would get into a rage, draw his sabre upon his father, who would retreat into one corner of the room and call out ‘enough, enough! I am wounded already,' but the little fellow would never leave off until he had his gigantic adversary tottering and prostrate on the bed. as the piece progresses, and his soul becomes wrapt in the beauty of the science he so thoroughly understands-to know that he is playing from memory the most difficult passages with a divine precision, and that the other musicians are following him with difficulty, although the notes of the accompaniment are placed before them. Paganini enters so thoroughly into the spirit of his performances, and exerts himself so entirely con amore, that he seldom quits the orchestra or stage without being in a most profuse perspiration, notwithstanding the spareness of his make. In general, he finds it necessary to undergo an entire change of linen before he is able to resume the performance-but he seldom complains of fatigue; like all fiddlers, he takes a considerable quantity of snuff; and after an arduous night's work, a pinch or two of his favourite carotte, and a tumbler of port-wine negus, or claret punch, is the only refreshment sought or cared for. "Paganini had now finished the dressing of his Achillino, but was himself still in sad dishabille. And now arose the great difficulty, how to accomplish his own toilette; where to find his neck-cloth, his boots, his coat. All were hid, and by whom? By Achillino. The urchin laughed when he saw his father pacing with long strides through the apartment, his searching looks glancing in all directions. And upon his asking him where he had put his things, the little wag pretended astonishment, and held his tongue, shrugged up his shoulders, shook his head, and signified by his gestures that he knew nothing about them.nounced his intention of visiting the United States After a long search the boots were found, they were hid under the trunk; the handkerchief lay in one of the boots; the coat in the box; and the waistcoat in the drawer of the table. Every time that Paganini found one of his things he drew it out in triumph, Paganini's rival, an inferior but talented competitor, Olaus, or Ole Bull, a Norwegian musician, has an Unlike the great original, he is nearly self-taught; his talents have procured him the notice of the European dilletanti, and his life has been chequered by a strange reverse of light and shade. We may notice his peculiarities in our next number. B. FAC-SIMILE OF PAGANINI'S HAND WRITING. Nicel Doganair at gentilissime figuar Becarton at Hector di Nurwich REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS: or, SCENES, INCIDENTS, and ADVENTURES in the FAR WEST; Digested from the Journal of Captain B. L. E. Bonneville, of the various other sources. By Washington Irving. In two volumes. United States Army, and illustrated from A DISTINGUISHED London critic lately asserted that when Washington Irving resigned the fascinating lassitude of European society, it was a subject of congratulation to the whole world. As a personal friend, the critic regretted the absence of the biographer of Columbus, and the loss of his delightful company; but if he had not returned to his native land, the beautiful work then in review, (Astoria,) would never have been added to the catalogue of literary excellence. It is indeed a subject of congratulation, more particularly to his countrymen, that Washington Irving should devote his powerful energies to the illustration of subjects connected with the history of America. The present work, "The Rocky Mountains" is a necessary addition to his Astoria. It is a continuation of the history of the Fur Trade down to the year 1835, from data furnished by Captain Bonneville. It is not a dry detail of statistical matter, but a lively romance of real life, told in the author's best manner, and sparkling with vivid description and startling adventure. By the powerful magic of the narrator's pen, we are carried far from the practices of civilization—from the hum of cities to the fastnesses of the howling wilderness. We journey with the caravan-plod with the trapper in his silent march, or watch the labours of the bee hunter, "a long lank fellow of fever-and-ague complexion, acquired from living on new soil and in a hut built of green wood." We join the camp of the wayfarers on the velvet bosom of the prairies, or the banks of a nameless stream that dashes through a narrow defile of the snow-crowned sierras. We enter the wigwam of the Indian, the lodge of the trapper, or descend the mountain stream in the frail bull boat of the exploring voyager. We partake of the rude excesses attendant on a buffalo feast, or suffer the pangs of hunger in the plains of eternal snows. We are roused by the midnight attack of the predatory Crows or Blackfeet, or join in a hunting party with the friendly Pierced Noses. We marvel at the agility of California's gaudy dragoons with the lasso, and admire the horsemanship of the naked red man of the west. We stare at the vagaries of |