I was advised to be very careful; not to expose myself to the sun
or moonlight, to keep quiet after dinner, and to eat no fruit in
the evening. As I heeded this advice, I remained seven weeks in
Havana without an attack of the yellow fever or the diseases
raging there. I gave ten concerts, four in the principal theatre
and six in the immense Tacon Theatre. To show the inhabitants how
grateful I felt for their enthusiasm, I composed two pieces, in
which I introduced some of the most popular Cuban airs. I think
you will like them. I was much excited and nearly beside myself
when I composed and played them for a people so favored by nature
and climate. The fairy–like and beautiful climate of the tropics
surpasses all description. How strange to see an orchestra
composed almost without exception of negroes and mulattoes! Their
faces recorded the sentiments and passion of the music, at times
laughing, then weeping, and sometimes rolling their eyes in a
melancholy fashion, as they turned their good–natured
physiognomies to the audience, to their music stands, or towards
me. They are the best musicians in all America! In the “Polacca,”
which was demanded at nearly every concert, I was accompanied by
picked players from the seven regimental bands in Havana.
But suddenly a dangerous conspiracy was discovered among the
negroes; they had planned to poison all the whites on the island!
The owners of several sugar and coffee plantations were murdered
in the most barbarous manner; nobody dared to go out after dark;
the soldiers killed people in the streets without warning, nor
were they called to account for it. More than seven hundred
negroes were shot by order of the governor. I had engaged support,
and my expenses were four thousand francs a night. I considered
myself fortunate not to lose money in the circumstances. But who
could foresee such a catastrophe? I exerted all my strength in
that intense heat. I played with all possible animation, and truly
the enthusiasm of the Havanese paid me amply for my exertions!
They sent me many beautiful poems, and garlands enough to cover
the stage; one of the wreaths, with inscriptions, I have saved for
you, my beloved.... I shall work for you and our children, and do
all in my power to assure them a good education. This is a great
and sacred duty, which gives me strength to brave all danger. From
Havana I returned by sea to Charleston. I slept for a couple of
hours exposed to the sun, and the consequence was that my whole
body, a week after, was poisoned. My face was covered with a thick
crust, and I suffered very much; it was a miracle that I did not
die on the spot! But I treated myself with cold water, ate very
little, took cold baths and much exercise.... I pray you not to
have the least anxiety, since I am now well again.
From Charleston he went to Columbia and Norfolk, and thence by sea to
Baltimore, giving concerts in each place. He then went direct to Boston,
by way of New York, where Schubert (who had come with him from Hamburg
as secretary) had him arrested for debt, though in reality Schubert was
himself indebted to Ole Bull for the publication of his compositions.
The arrest compelled Ole Bull to give security for $5,000, and brought
upon him a troublesome lawsuit, which was not decided till 1852, and
then in his favor. He never received from Schubert a penny of the sum
promised him for his compositions, which passed through many editions.
This attempted detention was intended to prevent the artist’s meeting
his engagements in Boston, but it rather benefited than injured him, so
far as the public was concerned. He gave his concerts in Boston in the
“Melodeon,” which seated 2,000 persons, but the orchestra had to go on
the stage to make room for more seats. The papers were filled with
articles and anecdotes concerning his life and work. A visit which he
made to a lady, too ill to attend his concerts, taking his violin and
playing for her, was commented on; but to his countrymen at home, who
knew how often he had done this, for the sick or poor, special mention
of the incident seemed strange. The insane hospitals were often visited
by him in the different cities, and he felt a real pleasure in seeing
the delight that his playing gave the inmates.
No expression of thanks for a visit to the sick–room was ever more
appreciative than the account written by Alice Cary of his coming one
morning, after she was confined to her room during her last illness, and
bringing the cheer and comfort of his voice and instrument. Her
sensitive, beautiful face was radiant with a loving welcome, which kept
bravely back the pain and weakness fast gaining the ascendency. Fearing
that this was to be his last sight of her, he resolved that he would
share and soothe one of the many hours of pain and apprehension, which
those noble and lovely women were bearing so patiently. When he again
visited this country, both Alice and Phebe Cary had passed away, leaving
their friends how much the poorer for their loss!