Such, then, as artist and as man, was Nicholas Paganini—whom let none _envy_, nor deem that a world-wide fame was _well_ acquired by the sacrifices _he_ made for its attainment—sacrifices involving, almost of necessity, much oblivion of the higher purposes of life, along with the forfeiture of some of its best comforts. Measuring the toils and sufferings of his career against its triumphs, surely we may say, “_le jeu ne valait pas la chandelle!_”—the precious flame of life was _too dearly_ expended on a perfection that allowed _nothing else_ to be perfected!” For a fitting wreath to the memory of Paganini, the _cypress_ should bear equal part with the _laurel_; since pity and admiration can hardly be dissevered, in our thoughts of him. The consummation of _the artist_ was the spoiling of _the man_. To render himself, in so absolute a sense, the _master_ of his instrument, it was essential to become, what he emphatically was—its _slave_. Bodily health, and moral vigour, withered alike under a dedication to _one_ object of ambitious study, so early sighed for, and with such prolonged severity pursued. That the _success_, however, (be its relative worth what it may) was _complete_—that the bold and wild adventurer reached the highest attainable summit in those regions of art that he explored and illustrated—is a point which seems hardly capable of rational dispute. Allowing some of his eccentricities to weigh against him as _defects_, there will yet remain sufficient ground for regarding him, on the whole, as the greatest of _all_ violinists, past or present; nor would _he_ be the _most_ hardy of prognosticators, who should venture to assign him the like pre-eminence over all future individuals of his calling;—for how can we anticipate another such happy union of the _inventive_ with the _executive_ power—another case in which there shall be so strange a concurrence in the various requisites of pre-disposing organization,[43] inflexible will, and co-operating circumstance? The same causes, however, which have placed him so far above the level of the crowd of instrumentalists, would seem to deny to him the production of any permanent or important impression on the general state of his Art. He could hardly have been followed by others, even if he had undertaken to be their teacher, and to “ungird his strangeness” to their toiling apprehensions, disclosing to them the most subtle principles of what he himself delighted to call _la filosofia del violino_. _His_ means would still have been above _their_ means, and the end would never be reached. Thus, although the greatest of artists, he must be reckoned, as a director and propagator of his art, far less considerable than Viotti of the modern school, Corelli of the old, or even others less distinguished than these two men of fame. “In considering the discoveries of Paganini,” said once an able French critic, “as regards their application to the progress of the art, and of genuine music, I