memory for features and names of persons
whom he had met, but it is said that he never remembered the names of
towns at which he had given concerts. He was very severe with
orchestras, and any mistakes made by them would bring forth a tempest of
rage, though satisfactory work would be rewarded with expressions of
approval. When he came to a pause for the introduction of a cadenza, at
rehearsal, the musicians would frequently rise, eager to watch his
performance, but Paganini would merely play a few notes, and then
stopping suddenly would smile and say, "Et cetera, messieurs!" and
reserve his strength for the public performance.

His peculiarities were shown strongly in his arrangements for personal
comfort while travelling, for his constant suffering precluded the
enjoyment of the beauties of nature. He was always cold, and even in
summer kept a large cloak wrapped around him, and the windows of the
carriage carefully closed. Before starting he took merely a basin of
soup or a cup of chocolate, and though he frequently remained nearly the
whole day without further refreshment, he slept a great deal and thus
escaped some of the pain which the jolting of the carriage caused him.
His luggage consisted of a small dilapidated trunk, which contained his
violin, his jewels, his money, and a few fine linen articles. Besides
this he had only a hat-case and a carpet-bag, and frequently a napkin
would contain his entire wardrobe. In a small red pocketbook he kept his
accounts and his papers, which represented an immense value, and nobody
but himself could decipher the hieroglyphics which indicated his
expenses and receipts. He cared not whether his apartment, at the inns
on the road, was elegantly furnished or a mere garret, but he always
kept the windows open in order to get an "air-bath," contrary to his
custom while in a carriage.

While the secret of Paganini's marvellous technique was incessant hard
work, to which he was urged not less by his own ambition than by his
father's cruelty, yet in later years he seldom practised, and his
playing was chiefly confined to his concerts and rehearsals. There are
several good stories dealing with this peculiarity. One man is said to
have followed him around for months, taking the adjoining room at
hotels, in order to find the secret of his success by hearing him
practise. Once, when looking through the keyhole, he saw the virtuoso go
to the violin case, take out the instrument, and aft