for which I had written a new sonata for harp and violin. As, since I
had once more a fixed residence, pupils again presented themselves,
both native and foreign, I was overburdened with work the whole
winter. When spring at length came I was therefore very desirous of
a little rest and I was well pleased when four of my earlier musical
friends of Rudolstadt, Messrs. _von Holleben_, _Müller_, _Sommer_ and
_Methfessel_, came to Frankfort and urged me to accompany them to
Mannheim, where a musical festival was to take place. I managed to get
leave of absence for eight days, and joined the party. From Darmstadt,
where the charming mountain-road begins, we went on foot to Heidelberg,
and carried our necessary luggage in knapsacks, on our backs. Three
of the Rudolstädter, _Müller_, _Sommer_ and _von Holleben_, who were
first-rate harmonists, had strapped their horns upon their knapsacks,
and _Methfessel_, who accompanied our four-part songs with the
guitar, carried his instrument slung by a band over his shoulders. In
this manner our travelling-party, notwithstanding their respectable
exterior, had completely the appearance of an itinerant music-band, and
as, in high and jocund spirits, we always entered all the villages and
small towns either playing or singing, we had always a long train of
jovial listeners, and numerous applications to “strike up,” which, to
the great regret of the applicants, were of course not complied with.
We made short stages, and ascended the ruins of several castles which
lay near our road. There we partook of the meal brought with us from
the neighbouring inn and seasoned it with horn-music, song and mirthful
jest. On the third day we arrived at Heidelberg, where we visited the
castle. A flourish of horns soon brought a number of hearers around us,
who were highly delighted with our four-part songs and _Methfessel’s_
comic lyrics. As we had inscribed our names in the visitors’ book, it
soon became known in the town that I and some musical friends were on
our way to the festival at Mannheim, and in the evening a deputation
from the Heidelberg musical society made its appearance at our inn with
an invitation to make the passage to Mannheim the next morning on board
the society’s vessel. We consented with very great pleasure.
This voyage was the most brilliant episode in the whole journey. When I
and my companions set foot on board the vessel, which was dressed out
with festoons of flowers up to the top of the mast, we were welcomed
in the most friendly manner by the already assembled male and female
singers, with a choral-song. While the boat was passing directly
afterwards between high rocky banks on either side, which threw back
the echo, the Rudolstädter first returned the compliment with their
horns, which had a fine effect there. Then followed our songs, and
_Methfessel_ again distinguished himself in particular by the execution
of his humorous songs, which he accompanied in a masterly manner on the
guitar. These put the whole company in the merriest mood. As we drew
near the end of our journey we were met and welcomed by the Mannheim
musical society on board several boats decorated with flags and
flowers. My presence on board the Heidelberg boat was already known.
The committee of the festival therefore saluted me and my companions,
and presented us with tickets of admission to the rehearsals and
performances. To me even apartments were offered in a private house,
which I was however obliged to decline, as it would separate me from
my companions. As soon as we had landed, therefore, we sought for an
inn. Unfortunately, however, we found it already so full of visitors
that we were obliged all five to accommodate ourselves in one room, and
the next day the crowd of applicants for lodging was so great that we
had great difficulty in protecting our room from the invasion of yet
more guests. In the evening, since, as may be readily supposed, beds
were not to be had, we lay down contented beside each other on some
clean straw, nor was our good humour in the least disturbed thereby.
As regards the musical performances, I now only recollect that I and
my companions, who, together with me, had assisted at the festival at
Frankenhausen, were not so satisfied with the effect of the music here
as there, which can alone be accounted for by the circumstance that the
performance at Frankenhausen took place in the church, a place sonorous
and well adapted on account of its excellent acoustic qualities, while
at Mannheim they were given in the theatre.
On the third day we set out upon our return journey. As the road from
Mannheim to Mayence would have been too uninteresting to travel on
foot, we hired a boat with two vigorous rowers, and went by water. But
in this way also the journey was rather tedious. We had, moreover,
passed the previous night at a ball, and felt very tired; it was
therefore no wonder that we sought to make up for the lost night’s
rest, and passed the greater part of the time in sleep. On our arrival
at Mayence we nevertheless met with a little adventure which put us in
the merriest mood during the last hours of our being together. Evening
was drawing in when, after our landing, we proceeded to look for the
best inn in the town. Just as we were about to enter it, in the already
described dress of travelling musicians, the host, who was looking out
of the window, called out to us in an angry tone of voice: “Be off with
you! we don’t take in such people as you!” This style of address amused
me amazingly, as I had frequently joked my companions upon their dress,
and laughing, I called out to Mr. _von Holleben_: “High warden of
forests, did you hear that? they will not take us in here; we must look
for another inn!” But the host, startled at hearing my friend addressed
by such a grand title, darted down-stairs in a minute and made his
appearance immediately in the street, and with bows innumerable
entreated the gentlemen to walk in and graciously pardon his silly
mistake! As we followed him into the house and were all ushered by him
into the well-lighted dining room, his embarrassment was ludicrous in
the extreme: our highly respectable appearance seemed now to allay all
his fears, when the unlucky horns strapped upon the knapsacks, and
_Methfessel’s_ guitar suspended from his neck, excited new doubts as
to whether we were guests worthy of entertainement in his house. But
when we ordered three rooms with wax lights (which latter I purposely
mentioned), five beds and a good supper, all uttered in the curt
imperative tone of persons of importance, his last lingering scruples
vanished, and his whole demeanour became thenceforth cringingly
servile. This specimen of the mean vulgarity of innkeeper-nature amused
us long, and was subject of mirth up to the last moment of our being
together. The next morning, as my leave of absence was expired, I
returned to Frankfort and the Rudolstädter continued their journey down
the Rhine, as they had proposed.
As I entered my house, the children ran joyfully to meet me, but my
wife, who had been in very low spirits at our parting the week before,
was now suffering extremely from the shock sustained from a fright. In
order that the reader may understand the cause of this, I must advert
to some previous incidents that had occurred while in Frankfort.
In the latter part of the autumn of 1818 _Turner_, a player on the
hautboy, came to Frankfort. I had previously known him in Brunswick,
where we were both members of the orchestra. Already at that time
_Turner_ distinguished himself greatly by his skill upon that
instrument, as also by his talent for composition. Upon his subsequent
travels, particularly while in Vienna, where he lived some time, he
had acquired the reputation of being the first of living hautboyists.
At the same time, however, many strange stories were current of his
residence there; of a _liaison_ with a lady of rank, whom he afterwards
accused of having given him poison in a cup of coffee. A criminal
inquiry was instituted, whereat it was elicited that he had periodical
fits of insanity, at which times he was possessed with the fixed idea
of being poisoned. These relations concerning him, which passed from
mouth to mouth, imparted to him a certain interest, and his concerts
were on that account most numerously attended. I found him on his
arrival in Frankfort--for he immediately paid me a visit--more earnest
and reserved, it is true, than when I was previously acquainted with
him in Brunswick, but otherwise remarked nothing whatever peculiar
in him. As his play pleased very much, and as I knew moreover that
his orchestral skill was very great, and as from _George Döring’s_
retirement from the orchestra (he had now thought of devoting himself
entirely to authorship), a vacancy had occurred for a hautboy player--I
proposed at the next sitting of the theatrical committee that _Turner_
should be engaged as first hautboy. The salary he asked was not
unusually high, and therefore the proposition met with no opposition,
even Mr. _Leers_ himself making no objection. _Turner_ took his place
therefore in the orchestra, and proved a real acquisition by the
tasteful execution of his soli and by his fine tone. After some time,
however, a remarkable melancholy was observed in him, which gradually
increased so much, that at length not a word above a whisper was to be
got from him. Nevertheless he always performed his orchestral duties
with punctuality, so that I hoped these periods of sadness would pass
off without further results. Soon however they assumed the character
of complete aberration of mind, in which the fixed idea of the Vienna
poisoning again evinced itself. It was now full time to remove him
from the orchestra, to prevent the possibility of some unpleasant
occurrence. _Döring_, a near relation of _Turner’s_, undertook to
provide for him and get him cured, and engaged also to temporarily
fill his place. The malady now soon increased with such violence,
that it was necessary to have him constantly watched by keepers. One
evening, nevertheless, he succeeded in escaping from them scarcely
half-clothed. During a violent snow-storm he wandered about in the open
fields half the night, nor did he return home till towards morning,
covered with a thick crust of snow and ice. As he had immediately
gone to bed in this condition, the doctor found him in the morning
bathed in perspiration and in a violent fever. This perhaps, however,
brought about a crisis, for from that day he got better, and he was
soon enabled to resume his duties in the orchestra with fully restored
sanity of mind. I remarked, nevertheless, that for about eight days
in every month, and always with the moon’s increase, he was visited
by a slight return of his melancholy madness, which announced itself
beforehand by a fixed look and a certain feverish restlessness. I
then, with _Döring’s_ assistance, managed to keep him away from the
orchestra for a few days, until his more cheerful look bespoke anew
his recovery. In this manner _Turner_ performed his duties up to the
summer and it was hoped that by degrees he would also be cured of
these slighter attacks also. In the latter part of this time he again,
as formerly, called upon me now and then, and even spent the evening
with me, and demeaned himself in a friendly manner towards my wife,
and shewed much interest in the children. When therefore I went to
Mannheim with my Rudolstädt friends, it did not at first appear at all
strange to _Dorette_ to see him walk one morning into the room; but as,
without any salutation or uttering a word, he sat down opposite to her
and gazed upon her with his eyes fixed, she began to feel uneasy, and
was at length seized with fear. As she was quite alone with him (the
children being at school) she was about to call in a needlewoman, who
was sewing in the adjoining room; but scarcely had she risen than he
also sprang up and clasped her in his arms. With a shriek of terror
she tore herself from his grasp, rushed into the adjoining room, the
door of which the sempstress had then just opened, and she succeeded
in closing and bolting the door before _Turner_ could follow her.
There was, however, unfortunately no further issue from this room, and
the two terrified women found themselves besieged by the madman. His
endeavours to force the lock they met by pressing against the door
with their whole weight, and all the strength which terror imparted
to them; and succeeded, for after a few vain efforts he abandoned his
purpose, ran down the stairs and out of the house. _Dorette_ now felt
about to faint, was obliged to send for the doctor, and kept her bed
for some days. After my return, her pleasure thereat and the assurance
of again being under my protection, soon restored her, and thus this
circumstance was fortunately attended by no worse results. For the
unfortunate young man this last violent outbreak of his malady entailed
his discharge by the directors of the theatre. After again recovering,
he went to Holland, and at first gave there several concerts in which
he was greatly applauded, and which were also very remunerative; but
upon a fresh attack was put into a mad house, where he soon afterwards
died. The world lost in him a very great musical genius, the full
development of which was barred by the sad affliction that befel him.
Meanwhile the acrimony of feeling that existed between Mr. _Leers_
and myself became constantly more apparent, and a sitting of the
directors seldom passed over without a regular dispute. He asserted
that I required too much time for the study and production of new
pieces because I was too fastidious in the matter. He expressed the
opinion, that a new opera ought to be studied every fortnight, or at
least an old one completed in those parts that required to be newly
filled up. In vain I represented to him, that it was impossible for an
opera that was carelessly studied to go off well, and therefore that
it never could give satisfaction; that once brought into discredit,
it would draw no audience, and then the time and money expended upon
it would be sheer waste. With this self-willed, obstinate man, who,
moreover, before my appointment had never met with any opposition in
the management, every sensible representation was ineffectual; and
as I would not allow any opera to be brought out until it had been
studied thoroughly as far as the means and strength of the company
allowed, our contest never ceased. This, together with an intimation
made by Mr. _Leers_ at a general meeting of the shareholders, “that for
their theatre they did not require a musical artist of eminence, but
merely a good indefatigable workman, who would devote his whole time
and energies to the theatre,” induced me to give in my resignation at
the next meeting of the committee, to date from the end of September
(1819). The news of this soon spread through the town, and excited
general regret among the lovers of music. _Börne_, in his journal
“The Balance” gave expression to his sentiments on the subject, and
indeed in a by no means gentle manner towards the theatrical-committee
of management. I left Frankfort with a light heart, for my summons
to that town had only been an interruption to the gratification of
my love of travelling; but my good wife was very grieved at it--she
who looked forward to the consequent separation from the children, as
these, from requiring now a regular school education, could no longer
be taken with us on our artistic tours. But I consoled her nevertheless
with the promise that she should always pass the summer months with
her children, and only travel with me during a period of from four to
five months in the winter. Before my departure from Frankfort I had
accepted an engagement from the Philharmonic Society of London for
the next season of the sitting of Parliament, which engagement was
offered me by _Ferdinand Ries_, the celebrated pianist and composer,
in the name of the society. This had been instituted but a few years
before by from twelve to sixteen of the most eminent musical artists in
London: _Clementi_, the two _Cramers_, _Moscheles_, _Ries_, _Potter_,
_Smart_, and others, with the object of giving every year eight grand
concerts during the season. Notwithstanding the very high price of
admission, the number of subscribers was so great, that many hundreds
of those who had inscribed their names could not obtain seats at the
commencement of the season, and could obtain them only by degrees in
the course of the summer. The funds of the society were therefore so
great, that they could not only engage the first artists and singers in
London for the soli in their concerts, but the most reputed musicians
on the Continent.--In this manner I was also engaged for the season
of 1820, and for a considerable remuneration, which secured to me the
expenses of the journey thither and return, and the expenses of a four
months’ residence in London, I undertook the performance of a fourfold
duty. I was required, namely, to direct some of the eight concerts, to
play soli in some, to assist in all of them as orchestra violinist,
and lastly to leave in the hands of the society as their own property
one of my orchestral compositions. At the same time a benefit concert
was also insured to me in the rooms of the society, with the joint
assistance of the orchestra. Although my wife was not included in this
engagement, yet I could not make up my mind to leave her behind me for
four long months. It was therefore resolved, on consulting with my
family, that my wife should accompany me and make her appearance as
artiste in London at least in my own concerts. As the season commenced
in the middle of February, and therefore the sea-passage would be made
at the roughest time of the year, we resolved, in order to shorten it
as much as possible, to go by way of Calais; and in order to be enabled
to give concerts on the journey in the Belgian and French towns, to set
out six or eight weeks earlier. We first proceeded to Gandersheim to
my parents, who had undertaken the care and education of the children
during the winter, and then set out upon an artistic tour to Hamburg,
where we gave two concerts with very great success. I played there,
before highly respectable audiences, my new quartets, which had been
previously published there: they were exceedingly well accompanied,
and as violinist upon those occasions I made the most sensation with
my two solo-quartets. I played likewise a few times the two quintets,
and I found the passion for this kind of music to be greater here
than anywhere else, except perhaps in Vienna. In the catalogue of my
compositions, _Goethe’s_ ballad “Wenn die Reben blühen” is enumerated
as composed by me in Hamburg, but I do not now recollect the reason of
its being so designated.
We then proceeded to Berlin, Dresden, Leipsic, Cassel, and other
places, in all of which we gave concerts, but respecting all of them
I now no longer remember anything particular. Of our performances in
Berlin one of the newspapers gave a most favourable notice.
In Brussels we found another travelling artist-couple who, like
ourselves, gave performances on the harp and violin. They were Monsieur
_Alexandre Boucher_ and wife from Paris. I had already heard a good
deal about him and was therefore very desirous of making his personal
acquaintance. _Boucher_ had the reputation of being a distinguished
violinist, but a great charlatan also. He bore a striking resemblance
to _Napoleon_, both in the features of his face and in his figure, and
did his best to turn this resemblance to account. He had acquired by
study the deportment of the exiled emperor, his way of wearing his hat,
and of taking a pinch of snuff with the greatest possible exactitude.
When on his artistic tours he arrived in a town where he was unknown,
he immediately presented himself with these acquired arts on the public
promenade or in the theatre, in order to attract the notice of the
public and to be talked about; he even endeavoured to spread the report
that he was persecuted by the present sovereign and driven from France
on account of his resemblance to _Napoleon_, because it brought back
the recollection of the beloved exile to the mind of the people. In
Lille, at least, as I there afterwards learned, he had announced his
concert in the following manner: “Une malheureuse ressemblance me force
de m’expatrier; je donnerai donc, avant de quitter ma belle patrie,
un concert d’adieux,” etc. That announcement had contained also some
similar charlatanerie, as follows: “Je jouerai ce fameux concerto de
_Viotti_ en mi-mineur, dont l’éxécution à Paris m’a gagné le surnom:
_l’Alexandre_ des violons.”
I was just on the point of calling upon Monsieur _Boucher_, when he
anticipated me by paying me a visit. He offered in a most friendly
manner to assist me in the arrangements for my concert, and shewed
himself in every respect, deduction made of his self-glorification, a
very amiable man. He introduced us to several families who were lovers
of music, who then by inviting us to their musical parties, procured
for us the opportunity of hearing the _Boucher_-couple. Both shewed in
their joint performances great skill; but all the compositions they
played were poor and barren, and of those of Monsieur _Boucher_ himself
I no longer recollect anything. At first Monsieur _Boucher_ played a
quartet of _Haydn_, but introduced so many irrelevant and tasteless
ornaments, that it was impossible for me to feel any pleasure in it.
The manner in which _Boucher_ allowed himself to be waited upon by his
wife on these occasions was remarkable. When he had taken his seat at
the quartet desk, she would ask him for the key of the violin-case,
open it, bring him his violin, then the bow, which she had previously
resined; she then laid the music before him and lastly seated herself
near him, to turn over the pages. When we were then invited to play,
the whole of this process was inverted; for I not only fetched my own
instrument, but took my wife’s harp out of the case also, led her to
the seat where she was to play and then tuned up, all of which in the
previous performance had been the business of Madame _Boucher_. But I
took upon me the tuning of the harp upon every appearance in public,
not only to save my wife the trouble, but also to bring the instrument
to a perfectly pure and tempered pitch, which, as is well known, is not
so easy a matter. We played one of our brillant duets, and met with
great applause. _Boucher_ in particular seemed charmed with my play,
and he may perhaps have meant it with some sincerity; for in a letter
of recommendation which he gave me to Baron _d’Assignies_ in Lille,
and which the latter shewed to me as a curiosity, after describing the
characteristics of my play; he said: “Enfin, si je suis, comme on le
prétend, le _Napoléon_ des violons, Mr. _Spohr_ est bien le Moreau!”
My concert took place in the new large theatre and met with marked
approbation; but the receipts, after deduction of the very considerable
expenses, were but small, for our fame had not yet reached Brussels.
It is true we were invited by lovers of music and the public journals
to give a second concert; but as a favourable day did not immediately
offer, and our stay at the chief hotel where we had stopped was very
expensive, we preferred setting out immediately on our journey to Lille.